Orgasmic Epiphanies

I like playing with words. Over words, written words, not spoken words. I'm still a slave to the spoken word. I dance and jump and twist and bow whenever it commands, but the written word I am its puppet master. Pulling its strings and making them dance to whatever tune I dream up. 

I didn't realize how important it is for me to write here. Until I didn't and then did. After writing those few snippets of syllables yesterday I felt as if I had exhaled for the first time in a month. The pressure in my chest eased and the chaos in my mind slowed. I need to vent here more often even if it's senseless drivel. It helps to empty the vortex in my brain that seems to suck everything into it. In real life,I don't have a voice. At times I feel like I'm in a freak show on display. Seen but not seen. Maybe it's all in my head but it seems very real. Prying eyes of unwelcomed strangers staring at me. Whispering because they think I'm too stupid or ignorant to understand. Not knowing I can read every word they say and even the ones they don't. 

I'm sort of in a weird place. Living a life I don't hate but that isn't the exact of what I want it to be and not knowing how to solve this inbetween existance I've come to accept for myself. The last few weeks I've been numbing myself. Killing my emotions. Not letting myself feel. Just existing, breathing, day to day. Unfeeling. Moving from one stop to the next. Avoiding the real issues. Pretending I don't see them until they're too many and explode. Like they did the other night. Now I'm once again picking up pieces of me. Bits and pieces scattered here and there. Trying to collect them back into the whole of me. Filling up the empty bits, gluing together the broken ones. 

Yes I have to visit here more often. It's revitalizing. Better than Calgon.