October 17th, Friday
I need to write.� It is rare that I can express myself without using my fingers on some kind of keys; the piano for rest and meditation; a keyboard for release and self-searching.� The former was ineffective tonight, so I attempt the latter.
I feel the need to look back on my previous entries and give an update, but thatrsquo;s not going to happen tonight, except by relation to what I already have in mind to say.
I feel like Irsquo;ve totally screwed something up, then done gone and done it again and probably a third time here.� I didnrsquo;t mean to, but couldnrsquo;t keep myself from doing otherwise.� I canrsquo;t ignore for two consecutive moments my actions, the worries, the frustration that I feel inside, and the regret of what Irsquo;ve done.
I know you donrsquo;t hate me; I donrsquo;t hate you.
Tonight I found the perfect metaphor.� A little Pomeranian stuck inside of a carrier, nobody around.� It was so eager for me to stick my fingers through and scratch it a little behind the ears.�� As I let it thoroughly lick my fingers, I decided that I wasnrsquo;t much different from the little dog.
ldquo;Irsquo;m just like you,rdquo; I tell it, switching my fingers around so I can scratch a little behind its ears.� ldquo;Trapped here, all alone.rdquo;� It wants only to lick my fingers, so I let it.
ldquo;But my cage is my mind.� I want so badly to escape.rdquo;� I switch my fingers around again, trying unsuccessfully to return a little affection.� ldquo;Or for someone to come and just reach through the bars.rdquo;� When I stand up, the Pomeranian whines and paws at its cage, so I crouch down and love it a little more before regretfully leaving.� I wanted so badly to take it out for one moment.� It may be so simple for the dog to escape from the cage as to simply decide to.� I observed that had it become desperate enough to violently shake the cage and loosen the latch, it might have escaped.
What I wanted to do so badly tonight I couldnrsquo;t.� I shut myself out from the world, and numbed myself to every insistent desire to simply interact.� I know what I want to do; I donrsquo;t know what Irsquo;ll do Sunday; I donrsquo;t know what Irsquo;ll do Wednesday; I donrsquo;t know if I can summon the strength to shake the mental cage.
Maybe Irsquo;ll think outside of the box... Shut myself out of my mind, my cage, and just DO IT.� Close the door and be free.� Irony, but of the sweetest kind.
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