:: Idle Neurosis ::

:: Thursday, March 27, 2003 ::

sometimes its hard to breathe at night.

the past few weeks it seemed as if the darkness was attempting to suffocate me. no matter how deeply i inhaled, i still couldnt get enough air. the core of my being ached. one night i opened a window, but the rush of cool air provided a substantial shock to my lungs instead of the expected ease of relief. my heart raced while my foot would glide off the edge of the bed, and
begin to bounce out of sheer anxiousness/impatience. the heart began palpatate at a quicker pace as each moment passed.

i watched as the numbers on the clock crawled, and they began to flash forward. i tossed and turned, fluctuated between hot and cold, as the numbers seemed to separate from the clock itself. it seemed as if time was this tangible entity, which could be defined with regards to the constraints of its surrounding reality. here, in this room, it is able to float simultaneously forwards and backwards. it was as though time, while sitting so perfectly on the nightstand, was placed into confinement, given a routine knowing no boundaries, and continued to search for a way to indulge beyond its limited definition.

with a patronizing fear[source: unknown] i flicked the light on to get a better grasp on what the fuck was goin on. the seconds continued to tick, the minitues went by, the hours accumulated, the days added up, and time, well really, it just stood still. and i gazed across the room and the box on my dresser which dictates 'time', and the whole notion of it had been completely
drained, lost, misplaced in the shuffel...

leaving no solid or comprehensible definition...

and leaving a soul to find answers on its own.

in the cdplayer: tori amos; silent all these years
stellar lady:: Anonymous 10:21 AM [+] ::
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