get back to the core, find out who i am, only it's falling endlessly inward and all that's at the center is one of those green sprouts you find in onions that've been on the shelf too long.
who *am* i? i know who i want to think i am, who i want you to think i am, but those feel like thin paper stretched over hoops and after the national anthem godonlyknows what's going to leap through. so let's hope they never stop singing.
fear. my life is a series of beads strung on a thread of fear. a therapist once trained me to react to negative emotions with a search for the fears underlying them, but today this feels like pawing through a mass of cold spaghetti. everything sticks to everything else and no easily definable strands stand out. i am afraid of everything, and nothing. i am afraid of being alive, but the void beyond terrifies me.
so it's another monday evening and i stand naked in the kitchen eating cold soup from a can. there's water boiling for tea and a hot bath running the other room. my cat yells, twining around my ankles, wanting to know what i'm eating and why he can't have any. i wish it were that simple. i wish i could twist myself around their legs and ask what they have and why i don't get to.
my world is simple now, self-contained. no one bothers me. i could die tonight and it would be a few days before anyone knew. i feel an urgent need to *do* something, make my presence known, scream to the world that i'm real i'm here i'm alive. but it doesn't matter. like the world gives a fuck. this building has nine floors of people, all of them just as intensely alive and all of them noticing me about as much as i notice them.
--
sine | deb
who is beyond really giving a fuck
if you want to call her reality pretension.