therapy

as i sat and enjoyed a cigarette before therapy, i found myself thinking about how strange it feels to walk outside after a session. after pouring your deepest unfiltered thoughts out to a relative stranger for nearly an hour the world seems to change around you.
as i exited the building 5 minutes later, having realized that it is martin luther king jr. day, and that the counseling offices are closed, i understood how much i need that feeling.
whether its the bell jar of sylvia plath or the glass cage of emotion a la ron burgundy, its absence is conspicuous after walking around contained for so long. it's as if people and things are further away without it, but because they seem further is exactly why i suddenly feel more vulnerable. before they were close, but beyond reach; now their distance is surmountable.
do i really feel like i'm carrying a glass shield around with me? i don't really know, all i can testify to is the difference i feel when i explore truth. what do i really gain through therapy that i couldn't achieve on my own? when i sit there and articulate the thoughts which previously had no voice, am i being honest with the therapist or with myself?
augustine's struggle was to confess his sin's to an omniscient god, and to what end? what is the use confessing when all your sins are known? here it is just the opposite. why should i take comfort in expressing my sins to someone who is otherwise ignorant of them. for the purposes of the therapeutic exercise, i am omniscient, so why should i ask the advice or opinion of someone who will only know what truths i choose to reveal?
that which remains unsaid hangs in the void between truth and objectivity. is absolute knowledge of self dependent on another, on god? we all need somebody.
i find silence in my solitude...could go days without making a noise, without thinking a single thought. and if i listen to the voices inside, a single hairline crack gives birth to the fractured fragments that rain down and eviscerate me. so i prefer the silence, and dance in the void of the unknown and unsaid.
absolute knowledge is a given. all that remains is a choice.
whose reflection does the mirror project when no one stands before it? look at me to see a distorted image of yourself. all i can do is absorb and project. the characteristics are not my own, only the distortions and perversions. place a mirror before me so i can fall into the eternal ecstasy of self-reflection. the annihilation of self through repititionitionition. the affirmation of self through annihilationationation.

sick

have you ever wished something terrible would happen just so that you could prove you could handle it? like some sort of catastrophe that descends on everyone and then all of a sudden you find yourself lost in the middle of chaos. there's something wrong with me for thinking about it, but you don't need a degree to figure out that i just wish i had something other than my own personal chaos to throw myself into. and why do i think i could handle any other sort of disaster if i can't even handle the mild emotional trauma that i've been going through daily for the past 3 months?
i just want to yell and scream and kick and punch and break things. and if i don't want to do any of that, i want to sit in silence, ignore the rest of reality, stare off in the distance. i want to fix things, put them back together so that the world seems right. i want to break them, and then i want to put them back together. from destruction comes creation, circle of life type shit (thanks elton john).
my life isn't that hard. its actually too fucking easy, but i can't stop obsessing over certain things, and not necessarily the things you'd expect i'd be obsessing over, other shit that i can't even believe. i feel like i've been falling apart for so long, how much more of me can fall off? i still want to lose control. i want to be dragged kicking and screaming into an asylum. that's the kind of release i want.
how did any of this happen? how can you be with someone for 5 years and then find out that its not right? how can you convince yourself for 5 fucking years that you had happiness at the tips of your fingers, all you had to do was reach just a little bit farther? and yet, every time you thought you took a step forward it was still out of reach.
i know there's someone out there who will see me for what i am. see the best part of me and know what its worth. i want someone to see that and help me cultivate it, and i want to be able to do the same for them. i don't come pre-assembled. i'm not ready to go out of the box. i'm a project, and there is some assembly required, and its ongoing and it will take time and commitment. and fuck you if you don't want that. fuck all of you, anyone who says "not yet" to me. no more chances...go find someone who is perfect and doesn't have any issues for you to deal with, and good luck.
you could shit on my heart and i'd still think the sun shines out of your ass...that's how stupid i am. that's how much i need someone to love me, and no one can do it, so fuck all of you. i've loved too many women and been hurt too many times. i can't handle this anymore. i'm sealed off now. nothing can touch me.