I am at a crossroads. I’ve been teetering on this edge for as long as I can remember and still the oscillations jar me. Where I am going, who I am becoming and what I am doing feel like far off distant ideas, big enough to swallow me whole. Depression is escalating and mental blocks solidifying. I keep drowning in my sea of unresolved and unanswered; desires unclear and goals unknown. I balance upon uneasy lands, with parts of myself out of myriad doors, one hand for one and one finger for another. There is no quick way out, no peaceful solution. My likes become my downfalls, my passions my miseries. And just when I believe I may be happy, I am struck again and become unsure if I ever was contented in the first place. I try to settle, to be complacent with what is, but divisive lines jut before my eyes and lead me back into the never-ending cycle of what-if. I feel like a ticking time bomb, just passing through the days, awaiting a complete shut down. This is my lowest low, a reoccurring, uninvited guest that keeps revisiting me, always unwelcomed. My hopes lie smothered, smoldering, and try as I may to rise above, to reach enlightenment, to decipher the unsolvable predicament, I still fall back down in the end. Each new page, each new chapter offers more questions than solutions. I wait to stop dissolving, to stop circling, yet I can see no end to a spherical path. So round and round again I shall go, longing to find something new. I wear the mask so others will be fooled into thinking this is my choice. It probably is, but I don’t want it to be…still I don’t know what I would rather it be… And time passes, day in, day out, I remain…glass half filled, both empty and full.
I am the schism
She feels like her dependency is growing stronger; each day she forfeits more of herself. Whether clinging to others or to the next assignment, she knows she's losing what made her her. Now all she does is depend upon other to give her a definition, rely upon guidelines to give her action. She is becoming a shell, hollowed out of all intention and purpose. She is a blank and fragile visage that stares back at me, a mirrored reflection. She is the me I am becoming. Sharp to the touch just out of reach Bleeding out and fading away this is the meltdown we all wear masks in the end and this is my own
i can def relate. was like that for quite awhile until i had a moment of clarity. love this piece.very colorful and one of those that keeps you looking.remind me of me