I’ve gone crazy or I’ve opened my eyes
I’ve gotten lazy or I’m running full speed
I’m a little dazed living in this dream land
I’ve gone crazy or I’m realizing things.
Opening up seems like a chore nowadays. And the more I wanna die or be dead the further I get from it. The further I get from a lot of things. I’m working on being honest. It’s the hardest thing to hold myself accountable for. Bc I’ve lied so much in my lifetime. I’m more or less trapped in a world of my own making but keeping myself from feeling like it’s my fault, no one likes to take blame for the things that are not going right (by no one I mean me). I have always been quite full of the world without even recognizing it. Like the thought of death has always existed within me, love for what I’ve learned it to be has always existed within me. Hate, jealousy, fear, sadness. With all the good is all the bad. And I’m JUST coming to terms with that and moving forward from it accordingly.
The world will never be the same for me. But to continue to exist within this time has been an act of defiance and, for whatever reasons I’ve justified, bravery. And I’m STILL my ONLY competition. I’m my only weakness. I hurt, but lately it’s ONLY for myself. I wore a veil for a long time, and as of now I only peak through occasionally. If I look too long it overwhelms me, the amount of destruction that is here. The amount of pain and every answer is where I don’t want to be.
Juggling the world doesn’t happen on my shoulders and yet I feel responsible. Or I know I am. But feeling, for obvious reasons, has been canceled. I now know it’s actions that I have to adhere to. What do I do that makes me feel better? Where do I lack most. Each day is an episode, a dream. Each day is as hard and unforgiving as the last but my reaction to it gets less and less poignant. And THAT’S what I’m living for. The silence of my mind. Bc I’ve read the Bible. I stopped bc I feared the Bible, and I’ll die probably more uninformed and more fearful than when I came.
But I’ll know where it went wrong and why. And I’m comforted to know that I’m out of control, while being controlled, in a place of my own making.
I feel bad for Wybie. But I also feel bad for the Mistress. A lot of things that are inherently evil and not right make sense. And I’d rather me than someone else be able to live through it. After all I’ve concluded that that “someone else” is me anyway.
I dream frequently now. I’ve always dreamed in color, vividly. I don’t remember all my dreams, obviously but I respect them all. I fear them all, even if they’re nice dreams. But with the climate of the world, I am envious of those who seem to prosper where I feel I lack. This has always been an issue. It will always be an issue.
The world will stop when I say I’m done. It will stop when I have lost. But I still don’t feel like I’ve lost yet. I just feel the weight of all my mistakes. It’s cruel but I’m learning to get over it. Being black has never been an issue for me. It’s never been hard. I don’t see it as a setback, and I can’t feel empathy for those who’ve lost their lives simply bc of it. Bc here I am. Still indulging in the place that is created on my back. Meant for me to find enough to take away whatever I feel I can before it burns up. Before I burn up. I don’t know why. And I don’t want to know. I just want to love. Live. When was the joke coined for me to feel displaced constantly. Not belonging in any slot quite right. My edges not sawed down enough, a little too crooked for everything.
- Overwhelmed, overexplicative, complex Oreo
