Conformity

 

I have spent my life rejecting conformity,

yet now I miss its comfort.

I have stripped my individuality bare of bonds and anchors

and now I float aimless, free of deep ties

free to roam and explore as I choose,

but undriven and ungrounded,

lonely.

Wounded, vengeful victim

I slept all afternoon and now I find it difficult to fall asleep. I walked out on the streets to seek some distraction from the persistent thoughts and emotions that find no immediate recipient. Pain. Anger. Discomfort. Resentment. Urge to fight. Demand for her to justify what she has done.

Who?

That's the problem. No one in particular. Every woman who has brought up the pain in me. Each trigger tangles up in my angry and painful ball of thorns in my solar plexus, and each time my ball grows larger, denser, heavier as I continue to stuff it deeper into the dark emotional caverns within. It is so repressed and stuffed that it is wordless, stagnant, and a resentful crust has grown around it that refuses to try to express anymore unless it can fire its expression to that which pains it - the alluring enemy: woman. Meanwhile, my mind is certain it will not shoot hurtful arrows unto unsuspecting individuals, or onto those who have not yet allowed me to, at least partially knowing of the topic I intend to speak.

So while this conflict remains, my ball, this ball of thorns remains. And in moments of idleness it peers from the dark, it rises, and gradually my mind and body is flood with urges of defiance, of proposals, of introductory words and of physical wrestling, threats, and rage. And there is no recipient around me to target. So I distract myself - I walk, I eat, I browse whatever is on my phone and on the internet - anything that will take the focus away from this deep, dense rage that I willingly and painfully frustrate every passing second of these bouts of idleness.

This is why I waste time.

I am the wounded, vengeful victim. I demand to be heard.

Writing releases

 

Writing releases. It outflows those leftover pent-up forces and holdbacks that inhabit our psyches and minds, and allows them to travel elsewhere. They release space from one's within. Thus catharsis releases one's internal pressures.

Expression alone does not guarantee healing. It is but the expulsion of unneeded sepsis, pus, or blood, but the processes that generated these fluids remain. It is when these processes, leaking or unmanaged, pervade one's organism without awareness or treatment, that useless residues can accumulate and build up pressure, and result in unintended bouts of sadness, anger, and/or frustration that can cause damage or suffering, both to the holder and to those around him.

Hence, knowing one's systems, flows, and recurring patterns of behavior, including those that are difficult to explain or to understand, can lead one to a stabler balance and awarer life.

really

"Really, <NAME>?"

often seems to signify

"

You did <ACTION>, I did not expect you to do that, and I am disappointed in you/your behavior.

The image I had of you excluded the possibility of you doing <ACTION>, because it is of a worse quality than I believed you capable/likely to do.

Because of this, my image of you has changed for the worse, and I trust you less.
"