Scroll less, discover more
Introspective - Blog Posts
3:45 am monologue
Sometimes I don't feel like part of humanity. More like a fake and empty emulator A mimic, unable to feel empathy
Sometimes, I fail to recognize myself in the mirror. Smiling and winking back at me, confused. Unsure what makes me so happy, a puzzle to be solved.
When I'm alone, the world dissolves into gray. No more observers; my essence is fixed in place. It's becoming difficult to avoid myself.
I keep repeating that everything will be okay. With what face do I claim? If I cannot keep myself awake For my dreams are nothing but dreadful recollections of past mistakes.
Afraid of everything, I live in despair. So much so that I forget to take a deep breath. Only unconsciousness allows me, briefly, to change the pace.
For those like me, I bid you farewell. Be your days better than the last sour taste. Don't forget to call them; they prefer you alive and sane.
My emotions are valid*
*valid does not mean healthy, or good, or to be privileged above common sense and kindness
Keys
Some might keep the keys I gave
Some might feel their essence
Some might remember what I said
Some might feel them right away
Some might stay lost on their way
Some might find the door one day
______________________________
Runner up / Twin poem to:
Inmitten des weiten Nachthimmels
stehst du,
leuchtend, scheinend,
gebettet in weißer Watte,
friedvoll, stetig,
wachend und wandernd.
introspective zorua heck yeah!
"The line between good and evil runs down every human heart. The first thing is to win that battle in your own territory... When you look at the 20th century and think, 'Well, who brought on the horrors of the communist systems and the horror of the Nazi system?' It was people just like you... The price you pay for wisdom is radical disillusionment and the confrontation with evil. It's a terrible thing to confront and that's because human beings are terrible creatures; we're also absolutely remarkable creatures, but we have an unlimited capacity for brutality and every one of us carries it."
- Jordan B. Peterson
I haven't written in a ridiculously long time. While some find solace losing themselves in hidden diaries, only for your eyes to read,I, on the other hand have come to fear the blank page. Yet, I am in awe of the kind of experience writing offers. How things that didn't make sense kind of sort of still don't make sense but atleast you had a place to vent,right?
Or how when you finally find the courage to put pen to paper things finally feel better than they seem.
Tell me it's not just me???
One of my favorite podcasts of all time… As a behavior analyst/specialist, I found this to be super interesting. Applied behavioral analysis therapy is used typically to help people who have autism spectrum disorders, but have you ever tried to apply it to your own behaviors?
If you’re an authentic person who considers themselves as an empath… you’ll definitely relate to this episode!
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/almost-30/id1148183612?i=1000554072096
I will always be a 1940s introspective female author wannabe.
Once the tears finally stop and my lung revert to routine my eyes start to burn. The line where my lashes break through my skin stings a little more each time I blink. It seems fitting to my emotion addled brain, that physical pain should replace the psychological suit I was only moments before encased in. Because pain is grounding, a comforting constant. It roots you to your body and pulls your heart back from it's careful tearing at your mind. It is evidence of the event; a moments reprieve from the unrelenting screams that I am an Imposter. I have suffered then atleast, even if I'm yet to believe I can say I've suffered before. My eyes burn and I welcome my pain, my most devoted nurturer, for it has cradled me closer than any parent has. My eyes burn and I am left to wonder if my tears may be poison.
- In The Moments After by Me because I'm having A Time.