The mind is the weirdest. If there was a convention of crazy, the mind would be the very craziest. The one crazier than the metal eating tadpole lover. The one crazier than a man impersonating a fishing rod for the rest of his life.
It’s the most annoying organ, the heart can be persuaded(the GrandPa troll in Frozen was wrong) but the mind, the mind is full of crap.
My silly head wants to believe things that are without any doubt untrue, and is convinced that some things which are fucking real aren’t real after all.
When someone enters your safehouse, the one you’ve made painstakingly with all your love, do you run? I want to, I desperately want to but I cannot. Or will not. The line blurs.
Facebook. It will always cause me distress, I know it. Every time I venture into its blue alleys, it will steal my mind’s peace. Yet I go there sometimes, drawn by the apathy of a frosted heart.
I stare at the bar of meaningless notifications, names of people I couldn’t care less about mingled with those I do care about and all seem like strangers on this site. A date catches my eye, a name, a person, a simple sentence and my carefully built happiness of the last three days tumbles down.
You can fool yourself only for so long.
So, it’s true then. My mind rocks back and forth, reads the comments without taking in a word, wondering, breaking, making. Taking one step back, then two. Three, four and I’m running, fleeing.
Instead of closing the tab however, I press the search button, the list of my last searched names collapse on the screen,proof of my occasional stalking habits.
The picture catches my eye, on an impulse I click on a profile that I had concluded wasn’t of the person I was looking for.
But something had changed. The name was the same, but the address was different. The face was the same, but the face was different.
It was a disorienting whirlwind. A mind convinced of mistake, and a grain of doubt grasping for sunlight, trying to grow.
I kept scrolling, the sane part of me convincing myself that it was a mistake, I was confused.
I don’t believe myself.
My mind ping-ponged across the two safe-havens where I seek refuge, and found them infested with doubts.
I just wish this storm passes quietly, or as subtly as a pillow can stifle.
There it is again, the darkness looming in my bones, stretching it’s fingers and fitting inside myself like a second skin.
The water awaits.