So, I feel like within our society there’s a lot of pressure to present a preened and perfect image of yourself. To have everything sussed; to have a regular routine; to be productive; to know where you’re going; to be balanced and in control; to be something of a robot… But being human is messy and passionate and our mental processes and personalities are jumbled and contradictory and full of holes sometimes.

I wrote a poem about how I was feeling today, which I’d like to share:

A hovering, slithering, slinky something

A honey-soaked fly skidding over one’s retina

Jostling and writhing, greedily panting

Gorging on stagnation, on electric air

 

One’s brain is puffed, flabby, flailing

Overloaded, deforming up and out

Not rooted, comfy and tight in the bodily home

But adrift, stagnating, eating alone

 

Focus where are you

Words hover and blur, and meaning corrodes

Brain billows like spillage, like soot

Sense is a stretching, thinning string

 

Cohesion dwindles

Glare of bright electric lights

Violent smattering of city scape

Dilution, giddiness, excess, stress

 

Capacity full, emptily full

 

Maybe this post isn’t as uplifting as I’d like it to be. But I think it’s important to be truthful, and to express yourself however suits you. I sometimes feel very alone in this internal, unedited, messy feeling. As if everyone around me thinks much more coherently, as if their brans aren’t as patchy and impatient and unclear as my own. This feeling has been what I am today. And that’s okay, because trying to iron yourself out into an ideal is unhealthy and causes all sorts of self-abuse and modification. So… embrace the messiness. Flow with what you are. And realise that new days bring different moods and discoveries. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of disjointed messiness reminding us that we are humans, not machines.

 

 

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