dry me a river

A river of expression has been flowing within me but that flow keeps coming to a splashing halt against this invisible dam. I have no idea what sort of dam it is or why it is there. But it is there. Majestic, thick, menacing and shall not let my thoughts, feelings or creative purge flow at all.

I am stuck in this state. Over the past couple of weeks I have been delaying, procrastinating, writing a post because I kept yo-yoing between what topic I wanted to write about. I had one topic lingering that I chose to title “forgiving the parent(s)” and others that kept bouncing off the peeled plaster of the walls in my head. They are still bouncing, mad, like angry birds.

Could it all have started with the parents? The agony of growing up? The blaming game when the going gets tough?

So this is a post of my inability to purge in hopes that it still succeeds in purging something.

My mind is restless. My body is screaming for a change. For a state of what it once was. Self-effacing, self-loathing. Sometimes I can feel pretty good actually that I have come a long way. Faced shitty people, shitty environment, shitty substances, shitty realisations. And sometimes I wonder what went right. What went wrong again. What went where why? Back and forth, forth and back. The mental cobwebs go as quickly as they come, like the spider themselves, always in a hurry, always still. The left side of my body is out of balance. From my left eye to my left foot. All the points and joints hurt. But still, I am, amazingly, astronishngly, surviving unscathed. Just yet, for now. Sipping on tea with milk. Extra milk. With that sourly sweet aftertaste at the back of my throat.

Author: noramorta

For the first time after years of deliberation and procrastination, I move from the old fashioned pen and paper to display the consequences of my bad decisions, my inflated mixed emotions and my awkward findings on life.

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