in my head

there are too many things way too many considering the size of my skull. considering the period of time I am given in this life to experience the things of this life. there is love and there is hate there is little there is great there is rain and there is snow and everything in between. russian words and french kissing and spanish wine and romanian missing. there are questions, growing in number, there are answers, somewhere, at some point, probably, because they just don’t come to me ever. there are cats and there are dogs and there is crocheting and beads. new recipes and sounds, music and roses in the garden. there are books, words someone else had written, my own thoughts divined by someone else from a previous century. time-travel? prophesies? or the collective unconscious? there is mom and there is dad, in my dreams, he is there sometimes. there are things I can’t explain that I don’t want to know about and there are things I can’t, but want to explain. there are friends and people I shouldn’t call friends but I do anway. there is distance and proximity, promises and disappointment. there are colours and scents, lemon and rose, cinnamon and mint. there is young and old, bravery, fear. there is now and there is never. there is hope and there is certainty that it will never. ever. happen. there is beauty and misinterpretation of it, there is despising and admiration. change. lots of change. there are new goals and old dreams surfacing. surfacing. descending into the depths again. why bother? not enough time. not enough time. anger and sadness because of not enough time. there is pretty and there is ugly and there are names. stupid labels, the way we perceive and persuade and deceive ourselves and others. there are words, useless words that push themselves out into the open, I give birth to them but they are born still, not fit for this world, not fit enough. there is no point, what is the point? there are leaves and thorns and grass, beads of joy and streaks of rainbow and change. always, change. open endings, new beginnings. words I go back to, words I rely on. words that are stolen, words that express me. stale and stolen, that is what I am, feeding upon the past with no clue about the future. is this all there is to it? why am I happy with this, why is this enough? if it isn’t, what can I do about it? there are blurs and limits and overlappings, grey. always grey with spots of colour that are sucked in by the void. there is happiness. open endings. I have to see them as open. I have to. there is a lot in my head and it’s going round and round, never stopping. I can’t lie still and I can’t find peace. caged is not the right word, I don’t have a right word, no language has the right word. it’s a feeling and words fail me. in my head.

1 Comment

  1. Anita
    Posted July 17, 2011 at 8:58 pm | Permalink

    Oh, what a wonderful thoughts! I was astounded.
    Dear this is the LIFE, I think.
    And I know you will find your peace. NO! The peace will find you. 🙂 Soon. *hug*

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