My mind is racing in circles. But the circles are so small it looks as if it is staying in one place. And it feels that way, too. So maybe my mind is stationary. But maybe it's moving.
Who cares.
One of the things on my mind is an unanswerable question.
The night the monster came, I was millimeters away from ending my life with the kitchen knife in my hand.
So why didn't I do it?
Is there something I'm holding on to? Is there still some saneness left in me?
I must find the answer, because I'm not confident that whatever it was that stopped me will stop me the next time the monster visits, especially if I don't have a concrete idea of what kept me alive that night.
Another thing on my mind is strength. For most of my life I thought I knew the definition of strength. Physical strength, I thought, was literally being strong, agile, muscular, cut.
Mental strength, I thought, was not letting little things get to you, to be happy and make others happy and to live.
Turns out I was wrong. I don't know yet what the truly correct answer is, but I know that I was most definitely wrong.
Here's what I've come up with so far, though it's subject to change:
Physical strength is a trust in your body to not fail you. Whether it be agility-wise, self-defense-wise, health-wise, or otherwise, you must trust your own flesh to keep your heart beating.
Peristalsis is the function in your body that keeps your organs doing what they're supposed to do. You can't feel or control it--mentally or physically--but it is literally what keeps us alive. In order to have physical strength, you must trust your body to do what it was somehow made to do, to let peristalsis do it's job, to fall unto yourself, to know it will catch you.
Mental strength is the ability to simultaneously depend deeply on others while knowing that if they were to disappear, you would be able to carry on. It's a way of attaching yourself to another while still being detached enough to hold your own. Not only will this bring you absolute mental strength, but will aid the attachee in finding their own strength as well. I'm not saying to always expect people to fail you or leave, or to constantly be preparing for the worst. It should come naturally as you begin to become attached to someone. Always remind yourself that while you feel this undeniable love for them, you must recognize the space between you, as you are two separate physical beings. There is a beauty in the way humans have the ability to do this--become somehow attached to something completely external to ourselves, while still keeping our own identity and beings. It's a balance, it's delicate, and it's strength.
Also keep in mind that I'm not saying this from an experienced point of view--I have not figured out quite how to do this, for I have noticed myself becoming irrevocably attached with little to no hope of every being able to be detached, and that scares me to death.
The topic of strength has brought another topic to my mind--Flyer.
Being a young girl, the pondering thought of who my soulmate will turn out to be is a constant fantasy. I imagine and re-imagine, create and change and mold and tweak until I have the "perfect man". But the next day I think differently, so the "perfect man" is no longer perfect, and is completely erased as I start anew.
There is something about Flyer's hands. It's indescribable, but I'll try anyways.
When his hands are on me, I feel present. I so often feel like a ghost watching humans live, I forget that I am one of them. But with the faintest contact, I am reminded through him that I exist. That I can breathe and feel and talk and live.
Today he was sitting near me, and without saying a word reached over and touched the back of my neck.
I felt as if I had just woken up. Or as if he had just woken me up. I could relax my shoulders, and feel my heart beating, and remind myself that I am alive. He can touch my feet and help me see. He can rub my shoulders and help me hear. He can place a hand on my back and help me breathe. He can wrap his arms around me and hold me like I'm a child and rock me back and forth and listen to me weep and help me live.
Like I said, this sensation is indescribable. These words don't really work--they never seem to. I guess it's close enough.
But he's looking more and more like the illusive "perfect man" I have always fantasized over with every touch.
And the last thing that's on my mind. Driving.
I was driving home tonight and I did it again. No one knows what I do when I drive home late at night because I'm always alone. And I doubt I'd do it with anyone in the car anyways.
I sit in the drivers seat and take off my shoes. I like feeling the petal with my bare feet. My hands start the car and I get on the freeway. Music is playing loud and I feel like I'm dreaming again.
My hands let go of the steering wheel.
I drive faster and faster, usually around 80.
My entire body feels like it's going numb. I'm still dreaming, still sleeping, still driving.
My eyes close.
Sometimes, if there aren't too many other cars around, my eyes will stay closed for 20, 30 seconds at a time.
And my hands are floating and my eyes are shut and my body just floats up and out of the seat, out of the car, out of the city and sky and just floats into oblivion while the car below is still going at 80 miles an hour with a dead corpse as a driver.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEBq5cfH_cc
"Love can hardly leave the room
With your heart."
-Beaskie
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