When leashes pull you Back

It's been more than a month since I've last written. Not writing is like walking the yard with a leash, no matter how far you get you're going to get pulled in back into the direction of where the leash is pulling you. So much like this leash, I can not stray too long without getting tugged backed to what you need to do.

For me, dreams, nightmares and night terrors take on a surreal approach as they get interrupted at some point becoming so blatantly odd that I know I'm dreaming and I need to wake up instead of enduring the campiness. To give some idea in how odd it has gotten for me the last four dreams, all in the same night was me being covered in hatching scorpion eggs and they all popped out singing, "Hello, my baby", one of my best friends being impaled by a large shard of glass at the throat while refusing the assistance of homophobes because "reasons", contemplating exploding the earth with a button as a small group of people argue the reasons to not do it (spoilers: Tacos save the day), and one dream that had me question everything as someone explained that I could not be part of her personal harem of nerd boys because she has no domain on me considering that I was poly at heart.

Yea....see......all that shit. Same response waking up...." I need to write fucking soon".

So once more, I am here dipping my toe into the pool of thought only to splash shallowly much like children do in puddles instead of plunging in and arching my head out of the water in a Fibonacci swirl of sexiness. I am a child of chaos and doing so would mostly satisfy my urge for extremes, but I must take heart and slowly acclimate to the waters instead of plopping in and shrieking from the surprising chill.

There is much to share and much to say and yet I know I will do no such thing. I want to confess much and yet I should know better to keep quiet on certain things. The reason for my pull from writing is because I was dealing with some heavy issues and it was the only thing I could write about and knowing that is the death of creativity I gave myself the time off to clear my mind and to cleanse my mental palette. And as much as I'd like to share, I can not without unearthing the things I've passed on and kept silent about. I know, very cowardly in some respects, but I have to remind you that I could only write about one thing and that almost made me give up completely. So, what is past is and I try to step forward with what I know now. What I can share.

I'm still struggling with things

I'm working through a lot of things on a weekly basis. Crazy Doc has me working through things that I've never contemplated. There is an emotional void that I had never noticed that in some ways explain why I can not understand certain nuances between people. I understand being told things and explained things, but I am not very deductive when it comes to hints and Reese's pieces trails. I'm too much inside my head and I already have some stated answers where I "know" or "know enough to negate" anything outside of blunt communication. So trying to understand how far this void comes in and how to find a reason to why it's there is something that I can not do on my own and I need the assistance of someone who can pull me out of things if I fall in. So far all I can do is acknowledge it and that is more than enough at the moment.

I don't know what I look like, bit I know how others see me.

I have some issues with mirrors and what I think I look like. There are times where I feel humongous and bulky, almost too large to hide and too obvious to blend in. I don't like this and it makes me feel threatened. It's the equivalent of having a spotlight on me. It makes me crave isolation and dark spots to brood until the feeling either goes by or someone drags me out of my self-imposed exile. Other moments, I feel small. Tiny, dainty, and delicate. Almost glasslike. I feel as if the harshness of a breeze will shatter me into pieces. As if just the right amount of attention will cause me to resonate and crack into dust. So between the two extremes, I try to see what I am and go from there. Not difficult when you don't have an honest idea of what you are and associate yourself with verbs rather than nouns. I'm trying.

I'm trying to do things I would not because there is nothing left in doing what I always do.

I'm trying to reach out. I'm trying to trust people. I'm trying to have patience with people instead of cutting them off early to protect myself. I'm trying to lower what defenses I have left even though they have been down for the past few months and I have been cowering emotionally for the hell storm to come. I'm pulling myself out of the edge of your sight to center while bracing myself for the worse. It seems that I can not endure ghosting any longer or at least until the next person rips me open and reminds me why I crawled myself into the edge of sight in the first place.

I'm trying to see myself as person rather than thing

This is the hardest of all considering that I am not people and have some great difficulty in believing myself to be people.

......

So yea, I guess you're caught up.

So yea.....that. Maybe I can get some decent sleep now.

I doubt it though.

1000 words, 40 minutes.