Keep on counting

1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10. 
Again.
1... 2... 3... 4... 5...

My survival depends on those steady, repetitive digits. Without them, I fail to keep a calm face. Without them, I fail to be indifferent.
It's hard to describe the present, because whatever what was written before was the past.
There's a lot of mindlessness, small intervals of thoughtless fun, and silent streams of tears that don't matter.

Whenever a chance comes, I dive into whatever comfort I can find in the arms of carefree friends, who really aren't my friends, who don't know what I'm feeling, who don't know what I need, who don't know me.


So I keep on counting until it's an automatic jerk reaction to any type of confrontation.

I'm just past blaming everyone or everything.

I just want to burn, and I want to count while in flames.

Contradiction

"You shouldn't be doing this right now."

"You know you'll regret it later. Stop doing useless things and make better use of your time!"

"You know better than this. What is wrong with you?"

Voices of my conscience prick my brain apart.
I just have no motivation.
No desire.
I can claim nothing as my own, I can not let go of anything for nothing is mine.
I just blame everything and everyone and now, I have become indifferent to any emotion.

My greatest fear in life? Failure.

Yet... what am I doing? I can see myself in the foreseeable future wallowing away in the misery that I myself made.

Contradiction

Regret

21 - I wish

I wish I could understand myself.
I wish there were no expectations.
Maybe then I could truly be free.
No holding back.

“Expose yourself to your deepest fear; 
after that, fear has no power,
 and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. 
You are free.” 
Jim Morrison

{Photos: Mikica Visualizeus; via meditate on this I will and Dreamwhile Flickr via RadioNational}

#2 - I'll forget the first

I had to use my special gift just recently. If you've been following, you would know what it is.

The scenario is still inside my head, and as I re-run the words exactly, each facial expression is noted down to a T.
I hear the background murmur of voices, I see his mouth wording the sentences, I see his eye rolls, awkward hand motions.
Abrasive. Hostile. Immature. Angry. Defensive and offensive at the same time.
That is he, not I.

Despite the fact that I was surprised at his aggressive attempt at a conversation, I responded cordially and with reserve. A lady.
I shut down his child-like venture to draw me to anger, to get under my skin.
I told him to wait, because frankly, I had better stuff to do than converse with him.
When he tried to undercut my authority as a girl, as a woman, I told him to sit down because I was the leader.
Only I would get to do anything; I would do things in my own time.

He left. I mentally collapsed from the strain of keeping it together while I continued talking to those who really needed me. I had a job to do, and I was going to keep on doing it.

He came back, and this time, he tried to simper and smile, trying so hard to look good in my eyes. Pitiful.
With a regal air, I turned away because my gift allowed me to keep back sharp retorts.

I don't remember anything good from this relationship, and probably because there were none.
I can't believe I was with you in the first place.
I'll forget the first.

I don't care...

I have a special gift. Almost a superpower, really.
I use it everyday as I converse with the people of my life, and I smile and weep in their souls.
It's a pity, really.

My gift is that I can convince myself that I don't care. Not only can I convince myself, but I can convince you that I don't care.
I don't care about missing out, about being ignored, about being not loved, about not being cared about.
I don't care that you put me down because of what I look like, that your words don't affect me.

I repeat this like a mantra over and over in my head until I believe.

All of a sudden, you are nothing. A blip in my radar, a flower just withering away.
I can live the way I want, be foolish and be Happy that I'm a fool.

Now, I just don't care about you.