entfall @ 2010-09-07T22: 00:00
unstable.
... it's burning through my veins like gasoline
this feeling of being lost, cold and vulnerability, (life) Angst
''... fall off the table and get swept under ...''
swallowed, absorbed, eliminated
And I can hear in your head''my''song, the theme song for that unergrü ; RURAL painful longing and suffering torrential pulling into the everywhere-nowhere, adrenaline, panic and throw up both euphoria and desire.
~ ~ ~
Radiohead: Weird fishes turn
In the deepest ocean The bottom of the sea
Your eyes They
me
Why should I stay here?
Why should I stay? I'd be crazy not
turn to follow Follow where you lead
Your eyes They
me
Turn me into phantoms
I follow to the edge of the earth
And fall off
Everybody leaves
If they get the chance
And this is my chance
I get eaten by the worms
And weird fishes
picked over by the worms And weird fishes
Weird fishes Weird fishes
Yeah I
I hit the bottom Hit the bottom and escape
Escape
And I
I hit the bottom Hit the bottom
Hit the bottom and escape Escape
hear
~ ~ ~
It is almost pure masochism (and I've still got more of such songs, such music): Old demons give the opportunity to Claws and fangs me to dig into the flesh and to enjoy it (bitter sweet memory), while other parts of my head and heart are already on and defend themselves from sinking and losing - one foot still in the bottom of old wounds (as self-destruction is the only way possible for me to feel) and the other even in uncertain Anders (excavation, defense).
It is a balancing act on a knife edge - to know what it once was and it still almost always empathize with unadulterated, without, however, the fragments newly developed terrain and its position is not sufficiently asserted again to give up. And that is, I sometimes think the real danger of depression - some kind of addiction is to wollüsterner pain experience. It can not allow it to be working is probably the art. Melancholy is beautiful and for me a driving feel to much of my downfall.
It makes me vulnerable, irritable.
Without protection for my sensitivity, I can not leave my retirement. It is so incredibly intense, almost like sometimes die, as under current. Trembling, lying bare Nerves. Long as I can not join something, someday I'm simply not receptive.
Somehow I must have done it, to learn to deal with my feelings, so it is not always either too much or too little. Between the barricade behind impregnable walls and the defenseless helplessness, it must be some middle ground (''between death and eternal life must be a third thing'', because I think this song line, always). The tide must be channeled, controls the energy, everything else makes me - and I know for certain, not only my experience tells me that - broke the long run.
The first way has already become independent too much, now I'm sitting in this prison and come out no more. For me there is a permanent energy storage, I stand always live and find no outlet for it. If I can not find ways to live out the self, the blazes too long locked up his own destructive way out (for this I'm probably permanently sick). And me, the offspring of frigging and inertia, passivity.
How interesting is probably the most bites to outsiders? But the latter was only the result of the inability of the former cope and tension is also reflected in many more or less subtle things. Torn nail beds, tight muscles, nervousness and lack of concentration, one never really find relaxation attitude, always in fight or flight. Not least sleep problems. Oh, I would surely think of some that hormonal side effects depression-induced lethargy are very likely to me ad nauseam, so familiar. What's
. Did I write that? For what?
monotony, it's my Journal.
And as always, remains the only emotional level flight crashed into the void.
are to remain up and bruised.
wind driving clouds shadow.
''... Herman, calls the wind, and I will be cold ... all I have is a name only, and have I a someone else '...''
Gone.
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