Dear pretty page,
I miss you,
And over time I’ve come to realise I need you,
But now you have become a dangerous aid, because I thought me and you were a sure thing, so I let you become all sorts of things, only to find you are not always available when I need you…
And now I’m lost without you…
When I can’t talk to you, I am in withdrawal and unable to access any medication that comes near to your healing capabilities,
You are my fix,
But unlike other unhealthy addictive substances, you couple as THEEE medicine for the come down… from yourself, not even nature produces a high this clever…
You are the buzz, and you are the sense amongst the non-sensical,
You are a framework for breaking down the swirling trails of my thoughts and feelings, into explanations and understanding of self…and of the ever-growing bigger picture,
Now my world, and subsequently my head, is filled with thoughts and emotions. Both of which provide my only sparks to spill.
But there are so many painful emotions this time, and so so many thoughts. The framework is no longer enough and I can’t get to the end…
For each pain path, for each situation, the explanations and understanding I usually glean from strategic ‘thought spillages’ are just leading onto another river of painful related thoughts, thousands of words, pages upon pages of incoherent emotional bilge,
You have become responsible for all the essential pieces of my health,
You rationalise the irrational…so you are my wise mind
You feed my need for continual fixation, so you hold safe my addictive mind,
You medicate me with your framework, so you are the healer of all my minds…
But now, when I need you most, you are fast becoming my poison,
When my mind and soul need organising… you just cannot step up this time, neither are you breaking things down, you’re extending every slice of the story, you can’t keep up, I can’t get up.. and you have been up miles up ahead until now.
Before I knew you, I just had the thoughts and the emotions to deal with, and maybe their poisonous tendencies when left unattended…
Now I am burdened with the constant longing of your high,
The relentless desire for your wisdom,
The comfort of your medicine,
And every time I come back for you to save me, we make more mess, you talk back and you have developed a capacity to add weight and width to the unreachable ripples of the edge, the end, the resolve.
Too much love will kill you, just as sure as none at all…
I’ve fallen in love with my pretty page and our relationship. Once again this sentence from ‘Freddy’ proves entirely apt and comprehensive, for this love, and for all the loves…
I want my fix, my friend, my framework, my medicine, my wisdom, my resolve, my conclusions, my buzz…
Most of all I want this pain to subside, so that I can access a thought or emotion that fits into my framework. I just want to begin and end something, anything…
Random Spillages from a Reportedly Strange Mind 