Battle

I believe that self expression is the devastating head explosion I experience from time to time. Those times being when my soul and my brain begin to torment each other with a battle that's been raging through me for years.

Sometimes it's a headache, sometimes an ulcer, but usually a headache with a little madness sprinkled on top. The battle's underlying roots being that I am a woman. Not exquisitely beautiful but on my better days I have been called pretty. This mere fact already means that I am in a group, a genre, labeled. I should by standards act in a sort of way, which I do love to dwindle in from time to time. The one where I act lady like, I am picky, I eat fruit and vegetables, I sip green tea in the morning, I dress nicely, I go to the gym in order to stay skinny. I am single so there is no sex, no going out with strangers, I sit at home and watch countless hours of trashy TV because I have to know if Mcdreamy is going to leave his wife for Grey. Ultimately I have an appropriately dull existence.


This all results from the horrible gift I have acquired of superior reasoning and the one thing that pushes everyone to spend so much time rationalizing your weaknesses – fear.
On my better days when my unconscious takes over I am an information junkie, spending hours on the internet lost in topics, my mind sifting through essay to poem to news article. I write, and write, and write. I write nothing about nothing but cannot stop ranting, just as I’m doing now. All the while my novel sits incomplete. It is pieces of the beginning, the end, the middle, chaos.

I love being in the midst of my chaos but this is when the inappropriate side of the battle is ahead for awhile. I drink, I smoke, I curse, I fuck, I wander, I forget, I remember, stare off for hours, dance, I stumble around my home alone speaking to countless spirits. I am hysterical, I cry, I have anxiety attacks, I blame everything on republicans even when it doesn’t make sense. It isn’t supposed to.

Nothing makes sense! I cannot figure out how to be consumed completely by one of these two people. The battle may last forever. What I am and what I should be dancing the same old dance around me.