Feb. 13th, 2014


Feb. 13th, 2014 08:45 pm
The ground.
Don't I imagine myself as someone easily balancing chaos. Don't I pretend to thrive in uncertainty! Is this... Legacy? Residual effects of attempting to become what I thought someone wanted all those years ago, then continued to assume it would be expected, that it was necessary...
Cognitive dissonance.
Because I don't easily balance. I don't thrive in uncertainty.

These weeks, chaos flavored, disconcerting. I come home and find my usual distractions inadequate. I brood. Wrap silence in mirrors and Chinese take out. Ignore phone calls but answer texts and emails eagerly, begging for companionship, refusing intimacy, laying awake in the dark listening to the neighbors rut, listening to the sirens and plows and howling wind.

A few nights ago
I dreamed scores of mile wide tornados, a black sky, screaming crowds tossed like murdered starlings, trucks and trailers spinning end over end digging long furrows in red earth. I clung to a rusted girder. Watched as the water rose. Chaos. Rhythm. Deafening. Sound of a thousand trains impacting, metal bone gristle mechanisms screech, howl, twist envelope a-and it doesn't end, it grows and grows until
I sit up, hands sore from clutching panic, kick at twisted blankets. Stumble to kitchen. Glass. Turn tap. The water is liquid winter, almost painful going down. I dip my fingertips, touch my eyelids, forehead, behind my ears, wordless benediction.

Moving here... Improved things. But this wandering has to change. Possible that work related chaos could spur, remind me again how fragile my little world really is.


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