Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Stillness. If there was one word to describe the bottomless well of whatever it is that keeps washing over me, that would be the one I'd use. An inability and/or unwillingness to move, an attempt to block out all stimuli that give the sense of time passing, of things evolving, of life going on. An anger that I cannot stop any of it, and then my own resistance to time and life- Sitting, sitting, sitting for hours on end with palms tingling and flesh crawling and heart/stomach/head aching. Angst when the door opens, when an innocent question is taken as a taunt 'can't you see I'm busy'- but with what? What are you busy with?
Then anger and evasion.

How to explain that I am busy with nothingness, that I am trying to will stillness all around me so I no longer feel, so that all this (whatever this is)  ceases to register and I am numb and no longer caring and the tingling in my palms is no more.

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