Sleep Deprivation, Five Minute Timer (01/13/22)

[9meow]

     I am a creature of duality. I cycle through the beginnings, middles, and ends of ideas before I can birth them into reality. This stresses me out. They come out of me, immediately out of my grasp. I create without the ability to stop, I'm in a constant state of fear.

     My mind is an instrument. I use it to play music in my head at night. One thing I can be sure of is that I am analyzing-- always analyzing. Acknowledging the crumbs from the last diner resting on the restaurant table, informing me that I cannot eat there, that the invisible layers of dirt and heat and sweat and food on the seats will penetrate past the denim of my jeans and the walls of my cells-- dirtying me past the point of what I can clean. I will have to wash these clothes, they have been in outside air. 

     I am ********, my case more severe than most, but in moderation. I am abstinent yet carnivorous. Depressed, hopeful for the future; I cannot be considered bipolar. I am sure of my brilliance but equally sure of my idiocy. I am frequently told I am beautiful, above the rest-- I cannot see this, I am below average. Except when I can. Only when I am alone, but sometimes I am alone in public. The confidence that this realization gives me is embarrassingly awkward for whoever has to witness it. At least, that's what I think-- I have no concept of what I come across as. I backtrack. 

     **** told me that I do not speak about my feelings emotionally, but calmly, logically. This confused me, but was something I could accept. My words felt like fire as they came out of my mouth. Am I emotional, in a rage? Am I empty, logical. 

     Speaking is embarrassing. Who has to know?

     When I look at the night sky, I imagine my arm stretching, stretching-- until I can grasp the stars in my line of sight. When I look at the sidewalk in front of me during the day, everything is covered in smoke, haze, fuzz, as if my corneas were not corneas but jagged layers of cotton.

     I can promise you everything, yet nothing.

     I am always looking at you, judging you, judging myself through you. I am watching. You are not aware of this. Watching at this level makes me feel like a monster. I am not sure of my judgments but they are my reality. If you saw the you I see you would hate yourself. I don't hate you.

     What bothers me the most is that I cannot be sure that this duality is not experienced by everyone. If I am not unique to myself, I am nothing.

     Can you see me?