Riddles Within Me

Before my eyes even pop open my heart begins racing. It races in a way that is all to familiar to me. It’s happening… Again… I don’t know why I keep saying “again” as if it isn’t an everyday thing. Accept it. But don’t let it consume you. Grasp it but don’t let it grasp you.

There’s so many stipulations that I didn’t even ask for. How in the fuck did my mind crawl this far up my ass and riddle me with these feelings that I can’t even mentally process. In attempt to process I go through every step. Every movement & every task is methodically thought out and listed in my head. Do I do this consciously? No. My heart starts thumping harder. I can’t stop it. I’m shaking.

I can’t process it. What is IT that is causing my mind to race like this. To break down every aspect of my life but to not be able to understand any of it. It’s like my mind is locked but at the same time it is running to quickly.

Sweat bleeds through my shirt. FUCK. The shirt has been on less than ten minutes. How is this possible? How am I capable of manipulating my body with my brain subconsciously. I was capable of a college degree why am I not capable of acting like a NORMAL FUCKING HUMAN.

I usually observe others when I am alone, which in fact is a lot. I like to be alone. It quiets my mind a bit more. Gives me a little less to process. I watch how others act and interact with one another. I’m curious to see what it’s like to do and act without thinking about every step. I admire these people. Going through life with such bliss, what an amazing thought.

I constantly try to process how I let my mind take over my thoughts and abilities. I’m not angry at myself per say, just confused and frustrated. At what point did I lose my mind? Yes, losing your mind is a process; but I want to know when that process began. Curiosity lingers in my mind. Not in a educational and informational way either; but in a daunting manner. It’s misery at best. A type of misery that only I can feel. It’s like having the worst super power ever. Nobody can know you are riddled within but you damn well are and you pull that shit off well.

My skin is raw. My arms, my upper legs, my face. I can’t stop. It stops my obsessive thoughts. I pick blemish by blemish. “Stop picking or you’ll scar like that”. Others don’t feel what I feel in my head and that’s to rid the blemish. The others were right. It scars me but I still can’t stop the thought process of banishing the blemish myself. It’s compulsive, but it’s where I am content.

Sound bothers me but so does stillness. I’d like to live where I could put life on mute. Just like what I do with the TV. I don’t usually like the TV unless it’s on mute. To much stimulation, too many tones of voices. It hurts. Physically hurts. Voices begin to sound like nails down a chalkboard after awhile.

Can you guess where you’re at? That’s right, my anxiety ridden mind.

xx , Kyles


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