choking on cotton wool

Dear you,

On this night I ponder about transience, and sufficiency. As my eyes pull me toward sleep after a long day of exploring, the one brooding feeling that still sustains is a sense of emptiness. A void that swirls and rumbles, it hollows my centre and reaches down to my stomach. It frustrates me, because once again I am aware that it is an exaggerated feeling over a fleeting relationship. It pulls at my conscience, because once again I am aware of the part of me that yearns for something more than it was. There are a lot of things that I rebut in theory, but never seem to truly reconcile with, and in this case I cannot deny a hope to belong and be loved despite coaxing myself that I am wholly enough.

Thus I engage in a tug-of-war within my mind; I can hear my internal self exclaiming in exasperation that I expect too much, but behind it all are intermittent sparks of maybe’s— they are undeniable, persistent, begging to be heard now and always. I wonder why I put myself through such agony. It seems to be par for the course to such hypersensitivity, and it is a daily, continual battle to convince myself that my stark awareness of my surroundings is necessary.

I wish I didn't have to do what I believe is necessary sometimes. I wish I could be so unapologetic and oblivious, so secure that regardless of how I am 'morally/socially careless' that I would have a place and people who embrace me. I wrap my words in cotton wool, encircle my thoughts around the torsos of others, walking on tip-toe with my arms stretched out hoping to break anyone's fall. Like balancing china on all fine points of my skeleton, I am bound to let some slip. I sacrifice fun, light-heartedness, true open-mindedness and forgiveness... I am dispirited by my inability to connect, to share in the humour, to let go.

There is no epiphany here; I have spent too many times reciting the 'right' answer only to return to my usual way. It's not like the skin that is scraped so many times it becomes dry and numb, each time it hurts just the same, sometimes even more.