Every Time I Dream

Every time I dream I recapture old life themes. Spending time with friends that I don't know if I'll see again. Some people have this power to expose your pride. Then they use their pride to determine what's inside. The ego grows as they leave you in your broken throne, ignorant of your broken home. The problem with this game is that all parties must play. Pride increases pride until there's little left inside. We necessarily put that we're human beings aside. Everything we know about this messed up world seems to leave us. We get tunnel vision and rely on our suspicion. We can not falter or be suspended in indecision. Everyone is watching, make your calculated incision. Put me on the defensive, watch the mental collision. I know it well, that moment feels like a prison. I get overwhelmed, easy to see who's the victor. I take too long to sort out the mental twister, and in the end we both lose a friend. 

How do I deal with this? I've thought about it for so long. A time ago I decided it was to play on your terms but hopefully show you a better way by the end. Use your logic against you. But your logic is of you, it's easy to win when you decide you're the winner and you make the other person prove you aren't. I think that's where the confusion lies. I've always thought the winner is the one who decides not to abide. The one who takes difficulties in stride, but simply because of proximity I was forced to at least try. Then I took this thought and applied it to mine. A mind preoccupied with other people and tribes. Combine this with an obsession of the value of lives. To win was to be of a high mind. So I started playing this game that few others played. It had something to do with being the most kind. I thought that in love, my answers I would find. This is where my emotional maturity played a role. I didn't understand the love that I could spread to my folks. I started to speak my deeper thoughts on an individual basis, hoping I could build stronger connections. It didn't work, and I still struggle to understand why. No matter how hard I tried, I found few by my side. Few looked me in the eye and even fewer dared to try. My insecurities blossomed into my foundation. Nobody noticed or seemed to care even when my mind was clearly not there. If I could go back, there's much I would change but truthfully I know that I will be okay. I just want my friends to remember me well. Let me go but don't condemn me to hell. I know what that does, the hell you create for others you also make for yourself. I look at you with love, and I am willing to let you go, but I can't do that before I truly know. Before I know what you think, so few have laid bare, which has left me with a thick fog of confusion in the air. I'm waiting, allowing time to heal, and trying not to be the intruder I am that I feel. The fears that come beyond this are of no consequence, I will deal with each circumstance as it arrives at my feet. I'll wait until it's necessary to speak. 

Rereading this I see that I failed to mention my fear that my mind was lessened throughout the years. That my thoughts became broken and unreliable. That my emotions became neurotic and unstable. The fear that I couldn't trust myself. The fear that I was the last to realize. Believing that I had nothing to offer. Sitting there in silence, on a catastrophic precipice. I could only offer the world a half-assed delusion, what use am I? My mind drifted to thoughts of suicide. Sometimes I still think it's a matter of time. I start to fantasize about life after I die. I know people would care about my death but do they care less about my life? With all this discussion of mental health, why can't we talk about our internal strife? I start to think the people in this world are phony. That I'll always be lonely. That I'll have nobody to hold me. My desire to justify all of this is only evidence. I'm a man, many people say I can't talk about emotions and shit. People might say that I'm a bitch, so be it. It's either this or I die. I don't like to waste my time or shine a light on these lies that we're told. Emotional honesty is important, that's a core value I hold. I let my pride takeover when I enter this side of me. It's honesty but I begin to fear the imagined eyes on me, so I fight against this perceived threat. I get lost in this mental process. I think that you know what I'm thinking. I think you can read my mind. No really, I think you know what's in my mind. That's why speaking is pointless and I always feel guilty for the intrusive thoughts that don't represent me. That's why I hold what you say to a higher degree of importance than what I say. Or maybe I just know the fallability of my brain and see yours as much more trained or constrained or contained to a level of consciousness that I can no longer sustain or that I could never manage to maintain. Or maybe I'm just insane. Or maybe all of you are inane and closer to insane and hold your own brain to a level that doesn't really make any sense. These are just options that give very different emotional reactions and I feel them all at the same time or in quick succession and I no longer understand the point of considering such questions. It makes sense to say that I think this everyday and whenever I speak these are the thoughts I think. Am I starting to make a little bit more sense? That I have this constant, almost paradoxical stress. We all have this insecurity but maybe that's where I messed up. I remember thinking, how do I step up? How do I break down these issues and conquer myself. My solution was to delve into my mental health, let my issues take the wheel. Somewhere along the way I was ejected from the car. Only my issues remained, while I observed from afar. Or maybe it wasn't as much of a choice as I think. It doesn't really matter, I guess.