A flower in the wind

I often wonder why i make the decisions i do. Its not rare for me to become consumed by my emotions, and at first, it was nice. Though after countless times of hurting myself, i realized its a power i do not know how to control. Its not inherently a fault, though its not something that can be fiddled with. Emotions provide an imperceptible insight into how one brain functions. Often times, its incredibly difficult for someone to gain an understanding of one others brain. Every once in a millennia though, someone shares a little too much, and they become destroyed. That person, i believe is myself. There was a point in time when i was so closed off to the world, that it was nearly impossible to hurt me. I never allowed anyone to gain any understanding of my thoughts, and through it, there was never anything someone could use against me. Now don’t believe I'm playing a victim, i assure you, I'm not. I am no victim of a crime. I am the criminal who broke the one single law i vowed never to break. The crime against myself. I am the victim of the crime i committed with the help of myself. I used my own knowledge to hurt myself. Ive spent years studying the intricate maze for my thoughts, all so i could know how to best destroy it. Ive spent my lifetime worried of how others could hurt me, though i never took into account the person who knows the most, me. I took a dagger and plunged it straight into my back. I took it out and stood there as i bled. My sight blackens and my heart slows. I fall to the ground as my thoughts begin to dissipate. One eye closes, then the next. I lie there, no movement. My fingers twitch as my brain tries to think one more thought.

I should have never worried of others. I was the flower that poisoned my own garden. You convinced yourself that my beauty could do no harm, so you turned away. You gave me the opportunity to destroy you, and with it myself. Thank you Cyris, thank you for killing yourself, you made it so simple.

As everything begins to vanish, my body and mind follow.

I’m not sure why, but I lack the ability to look outside my window. I know it’s easy. All I must do is move a few feet closer, and lift one single blind. A simple task, but it feels impossible. There’s this blocker inside of my brain that’s s keeping me from doing it. I want to see the light, but I can’t. I don’t know why, and thinking about it is making me slightly nauseous. My thoughts are beginning to swirl, and the motions of a panic attack are beginning to take their place. One second passes, then the next. My sight begins to shrink, and the outside world begins to blacken. My heart pulses and my fingers twitch. Why am I built like this? What is wrong with me? I was okay a week ago. I was okay three days ago. Though three days ago, I saw the sun for the last time. My body hasn’t left this home, and it barely leaves this room, and it rarely leaves this bed. My home has been confined to a single piece of padding. I feel I am restricted to mere droplets of life. My smile no longer feels real, and my tears the same. I want to cry, but it feels as though I can’t. I want to laugh, but it feels like a lie. Am I a liar? I’m not sure of the answer, it scares me. I fear myself, but also the world I’m surrounded by. I want to talk to someone, but the only person I can think of, I fear does not want to hear my voice. I’m filled by insecurity, though I'm convinced I know more than the average. I belittle myself, though I’m ignorant. I’m a bad person, though I believe I’m good. I hate myself. I love myself. I’m a human, and no human is perfect. My flaws are what make me beautiful. My scars are what make me unique. I have yet to see the sun, though it’s raining so I don’t think i’d be able to anyways. I’ve taken more melatonin than I should, in hopes of sleeping longer than I need. Though my body wakes up close to the same time it normally would, it’s aggravating. I’m tempted to take more. Its 13:26 on November 9th, 2021. I want to sleep. I want to rest. And I don’t think I want to wake up. Though I don’t want to die. Can i just dream? I never seem to suffer in my dreams. Life is nice there, it’s not so difficult to allow time to simply pass when I dream. When I’m lucid though, all I want, is to skip to the next day. What do I hope I will find tomorrow, that I could not see yesterday? Hope? Happiness? Contentment. That’s what. A moment where I don’t feel I’m someone I’m not. A moment where I feel less alone. Maybe a moment where my phone rings. Its okay, that world isn’t for me. Maybe one day soon, I can be my own company again.

Oddly enough, the single thing I attempted to escape from, happens to be the single thing I miss most. The nightmare memories of my lows are quite difficult to think about, though the desire to relive just one of those moments is indescribable. Im not confident why I want to go back to a time like that, a time where not waking up felt comparable to winning the lottery. Through the pain I felt, there was a joy within it, the joy I felt from simply feeling. Yes, id cry, and scream, and scratch my face, and punch my eyes, and clench my jaws, but I could feel. I was human. I was in pain, but after the storm came the clarity. That clarity on its own felt as if the world was fair. It felt as if world hunger was no longer an issue. It felt near deity like. The emotion of euphoria would come so quickly and leave just as fast. Sure, the fleeing of it was quite poignant to my senses, though the short time it spent inside my aura felt like something no other object, fictional or non, could ever compete against. My life has become a flat plain of emotion. I didn't think this could be possible, though I seem to living it first hand. I can function, but I can’t feel. Yes, work is easy to get through, but it was often times nice to have bad days, especially if the good showed up as well. The most raw parts of me, have seem to have packed and left. They seem to have left without word, or even a goodbye. I like to sit and reminisce on our good days, and bad. Misery has been felt, but that misery is now being realized as relatable to a sibling. That person who may annoy you so much, but someone you also couldn’t quite live without. My life has become bland. My mind has become blank. Once filled by raging thoughts that had no control, to emptiness, that does not need control, all because there is nothing to control. Part of me wants to stop my medication to see if that would help, while the other side wants to give it a longer chance to prove its results. I’d hate if someone judged me before I could show them otherwise, so why should I begin to do that with my friendly bud, Sertraline. Im not sure, and it worries me, though these are not thoughts I need to be consumed by at 10:49 AM, so for that, I'm going to go, bye.

My life lately has been on the more odd end of the spectrum. My thoughts are developed by wisdom and patience, but also by arrogance and eagerness, both at the exact same time, with the exact same amount of power. My views, on the world I am eaten by, change so drastically, countless moments throughout my days. One second I may believe that tomorrow is not worth living for, and then the next I am convinced that the following day may be one of the best I’ve experienced so far. The inconsistency of these visions provide me with much unneeded confusion, and following that is frustration. Why am I here? What is my purpose? Do I have a purpose? Does anyone? These may sound like religious questions or even existential dread, though in this moment, I feel a connection to neither. I feel as though I am simply in a state of ponder and contentment. My mind feels obligated to no object in this world, and no pressure to fall into any one category. I am in thought, and with that, I have questions. Questions I don’t think anyone but myself has the capability to answer. And not in a form of pretentiousness or pessimism, but in a form of relativity. My view is far different than the person beside me, or 7,918 miles below me. No one brain processes information identically. Therefore it would be foolish to believe that someone could answer a question about me as personal as these ones. These question that regard my existence are not ones to be jumbled with. They provide my answer to nearly everything. Though this answer can not be found in books, or scriptures, or anything materialistic. This is a mission that can only be embarked in ones mind. This is an adventure that can only be traveled alone. It’s a dangerous path, and the obstacles may cost you your life, but the final result will be far worth the pain you experience. You may lose people along the way, you may hurt people along the way. These are obstacles you may not always be able to prevent, but you must stay certain to only move forward, and to not stop. You must move, even if it feels impossible. You can move slow, you can even crawl, but you must remain in motion. Its a task not many are up for, but you cyris, are someone who can do anything. My heart is with you, and my soul is by your side. When you finish this quest, I will be at the end to congratulate you, though until that time comes, this may be the last time we see one another. I love you Cyris, be brave.

I no longer seem to gain fascination by the objects and people in my life. I seem to have grown numb to the feelings I once held close to me. My days used to be filled by imagination and optimism. These days have now morphed closely related to a void. My mind no longer conjures intricate details of an adventure. My mind no longer turns simple things into oddball creations. I spend my time not looking up to the stars, but instead my ceiling, from which I seem to always be viewing from my bed. The same place every moment of the day. The right side of the bed, furthest from the window, and one foot from my stuffed animal. I lie there, with my head flat on the pillow below it, gazing into the texture of the paint above me. Somehow, my mind is content keeping in this exact position for hours at a time. The intricacy is near non existent, though my mind is kept at peace. My thoughts come and go. My brain sits there and stares at a non functioning object, in this vast universe of endless wonders. Though even as much time passes, I still decide to stay. Yes, I could go climbing, or on a hike. I could go get food, or just drive for a bit. Though all those options sound quite nice in their respective ways, staring at the walls around me feel a little bit nicer right now. It may me boring to some, but to me, it provides a release of built up emotions. Emotions that don’t always have the option of being sorted through. These emotions and feelings get locked away in a dungeon, never to see the light of day. I don’t want to keep them there though, I want them to be free, I just don’t want them to be hurt after I let them go, and i don’t want them to hurt others either. So I keep them away from the world until I know the time is right. And that time seems to be right now, it seems to be the last few days. Staring at this ceiling, alone, feels quite peaceful. Sure, I grow saddened that my phone hasn’t received a single text, but thats okay. I still hold peace in my heart. I have been bruised and damaged, but holding resentment will not heal my wounds, it will only prolong the process. I must allow the knives and daggers to be taken out, I must allow myself to understand that the only thing that can heal me, is the medicine that comes from me. Only I can fix myself, though as it turns out, there might not be anything to fix. Im a mess, but a mess isn’t something that needs to be fixed, it’s simply in need of a little organization, some management so to speak. I must not change, I must understand.

Why cant I just cry. I spend all my time sitting in my bed waiting for a moment in time I know wont come. I spend my time hoping, in replace of action. My mind has become weak, and my life has begun to feel the repercussions. My days have begun to take a toll. By the end, I feel drained, no matter the tasks I completed. The moment I wake up is the moment I run out of energy. By the first time I stand from my bed every morning, Ive already consumed most of my available stamina. So I lie back down, and watch the sun move from the east all the way to it setting in the west. My days pass just quickly as my thoughts. Nothing seems to last anymore. No second feels longer than another. Time feels as if its speeding up. I wake up and then ten minutes later, its time to take my melatonin. My body no longer consumes food. I don’t even crave it, I seem to have simply grown accustomed to one small meal a day. My hygiene has slowed. My creativity has dissipated. My optimism has up and left. My joy for living has fallen apart like a flower as the cold approaches. As each petal falls, my mind grows darker. As each petal falls, so does a tear. As each petal falls, so do my smiles in a day. Im not sure how to fix this. I don’t know if this is something i simply have to wait out or if it’s something that I have to take control over. I don’t want to push myself to a point I'm not capable of handling, though I don’t want to stay here for long. Writing seems to help. Its nice to vocalize my thoughts into an actual creation. I don’t know if I’m in need a self discipline, or grace. It scares me. One mistake and I could wake up an entirely different person. The thought of going somewhere and having fun seems awesome. Though acting on it feels unbearable, painful, and exhausting. I don’t know what the next few days ahead of me will look like, but I hope they are better than how I feel today. Until next time. Love you.

These last few days have been quite difficult. My eyes seem to have been locked onto my ceiling. My thoughts seem to have gone unhinged. My body seems to have gone numb. I stare blankly at the walls. This sounds quite daunting at first, though I assure you, there’s much beauty within it. As though my body does not move, my mind constantly does. My eyes stare at the walls, but within the walls, I find intricate patterns. I see everything. The time I spend doing this, is not wasted, quite the opposite. As though I’m often distraught, I am not consumed by it. I spend my time in my bed, sorting through every problem my brain seems to have conjured. Its peaceful. Its beautiful. Its rare. My brain is an odd one for sure, though I envy it very much so. I have my deepest fascinations while lying here. Sometimes positive, other times not. That’s okay though. To have one, you must expect its opposite. I cannot experience pure happiness without the knowledge of sadness. One can not live without the other, therefore I must embrace both, and so I do. It may not look like Ive done much on my off days for the past week, though I assure you, I have been quite sweaty. My work is not done, and frankly, I don’t think it ever will be, but that is okay. I am not okay today, but tomorrow I have another chance, and another the day after. The dark walls begin to brighten after enough time spent inside them. My sadness may not fade. It may even worsen. I will be prepared, for the time I spend between these walls, is the time I spend sharpening my blade, and strengthening my armor. The day may come where I am too weak to win these battles, though that day is not the one I am living through now, and so it is not the one I will think of today. Good night.

Just keep placing one foot in front on the other, and one day, you will look up, and see that you’re somewhere entirely new. And that will be the place you grow.

I am a flower in the wind, for you perceive my beauty, yet are distracted by the chaos that envelops.