Everything Eventually Ends

this is life, you think.

and your hand itches,

and your ears squeemish,

as you hear a story unfold.

of a tale, of two best-friends

torn-apart, distant and colliding

with one another, breaking bonds

and fraying all olive branches,

all beyond any sort of repair

"I can't take this anymore, I have to leave."

and you hear an uproar in your mind as it races,

and squirms as you push for an answer, a solution

you just need to think of something smart, something fast,

some sort of miracle cure, that will fix this gap.

You open your mouth wish to say:

"Let me try to fix this. You both-"

Instead you say: 

"Okay."

A jumbled up wire

I hate this. 

This being my inability to communicate or handle my inner turmoil. I wish I could pile it up according to the severity of feelings, find the root cause and categorize, dismantle, and cleanly solve it. To precisely understand how I am and what I feel.

It's moment like these that I clean and re-organize my closet/kitchen/toilets/bedroom.

except, I've done it, a lot, that it's lost the numb feeling.

so... I've resorted to this. I know usually I write and absolve the feelings, like when the problems are big. but lately, I've been personally adamant in not facing this. like just focus on my destination. Put autopilot on, and just drive. signal. brake. drive. 

Life, as usual though, had other plans. It's created this complex traffic pile up, with all these surprise road signs and broken traffic lights.and now, my car's at a full stop, and I have to pay attention. 

It's a lot like having a wounded up jumbled piece of wire looped around itself that you have to untangle or you can't breathe. and right now, well, I feel like I can't breathe. and I'm suffocating.  

Like dominos are falling down a piece at a time, and the last tile is going to make the very foundation of my fragile sanity give way.

It's actually funny really, writing this right now, I can feel my stomach gnawing and my brain race.

the most prominent are sadness and regret.

Both of them are tangled and twisted around one another, I can't even tell where one begins or where the other ends. It's seeped into every single happy file I have, tinged it with outlines and squiggles. 

They're both persistent and arguably could be said the most redundant theme of my life. Adding weight to my ever growing load, and my back is starting to ache. It's a burdensome weight, but it is what it is. The truth is:

I'm stuck. in the sea of squiggles.

 here. at home, in this shell of a country.

 Always here. never there.