I really hate the feelings I get when I ignore impulses.
I tried to explain it a while ago, but at the time I didn't really know why I felt like this. Unfortunately I've figured it out.
A new form or biological warfare has been launched against me. I already have poor impulse control and usually the only thing that saves me is the fact that I'm terrified of consequences. I don't know if it's him or me, but something has figured out my fear of consequences and turned it against me.
Say an impulse comes along, something harmless like 'talk to them', and I'm deciding against it. It's comes along slowly, quietly, and the impulse comes again, a bit more forcefully 'talk to them'. No. I don't want to. I'll just be bothering them they have a life you know.
My skin begins to burn and my stomach turns over, and I'm rather uncomfortable.
The impulse is loud now, 'TALK. TELL THEM.' Tell them what. I have nothing to tell. LIAR. They don't need to know that, it'll be weird. Your insecurity is insufferable. Life has consequences, something you obviously can't grasp. I also have consequences.
My heart beats irregularly and my skin becomes flushed, stomach feeling like it's on fire and shoulders begin to tighten into a massive knot. Swallowing becomes difficult and my eyes burn. It's like I'm embarrassed and stricken with fever at the same time. I begin to do things I'm unaware of. Checking my phone repeatedly for the time that doesn't change since I looked at it last until it becomes a habitual fondling of it. A look around the room for movement that becomes a slowly wandering, glassy eyed glare at nothing. Then it happens again, the static appears in between my ears again. I can't think.
The impulse is loud, but not angry, like someone talking directly into your ear with cupped hands. I won't stop you know. I know. You have to do something. I should sleep. You coward. Yes. Miserable wretch. Perhaps. You know I don't want to hurt you. Well you're doing a damn fine job of it now aren't you? I'm not hurting you, I'm just pushing you in the right direction. Your direction. The right direction. Yours. Coincidence. Emotional manipulation is hurtful you know. No. Well it is, ours would be classified as an abusive relationship. You're doing it to yourself. Don't. You know it's true though, all I'm doing is sitting here and pushing things that are already here, and everyone knows that I'm you. But I'm not you. Rectangles and squares. I've explained this a thousand times, you can't do things because people will react. Then just listen to me and I can tell you how to get them to react the right way. You'll hurt them like you hurt me. No I won't. Yes, yes you will. You worry too much. You've gotten me in a bind already. I freed you. You didn't let me do it. But you did it, you wanted to. You wanted it more. I was hungry. No doubt. That's in the past though, get over it, you've talked about it for a while now anyways. Not like that. Exactly like that. You don't know. You don't either. Perhaps. Yes. Your fuzz makes me not know. You wouldn't be fuzzy if you went ahead and talked to them. Don't. I'll do as I please. I can turn you off. You also turn yourself off like that, and what fun are you then? At least your gone. Everyone else will leave too. Perhaps. It's all or nothing, none of me or all of them. There's no in between? No, not in your lifetime at least, not without those. Not those. Yes those, and you know how that went. I do. Then it's settled, I'm staying. At least let me move on. I will, once you say something. You're insufferable. Yet here we are. I've tried to move on you know, accept that you're just an impulse. You're having a hard time though, sitting here writing about me like I'm a person. Your evidence is too real, I can feel you. That's because that's my hand. It's my hand. Well, it looks like your hand, but it's mine. I know. At least I don't touch people with my hand, then they too would know. Maybe they need to. Then drink. We get ugly though, we fight. Yes, but people can see you leave and me come. It scares people. I'm scary. Yes. Then what's the issue? I'm afraid you'll hurt someone, you get so reckless. You're the one who's reckless, you'll do anything to keep me out. True. Tell you what, next time I promise I won't hurt anybody. But you'll say things, words hurt too. But you'll have an excuse, you'll be fine. They won't. Sure they will. You can't just dehumanize these people like they're pets, I care about them, a lot. And yet you can't bring yourself to say anything. Stop it. I see what you're doing, even here, being vague won't help you much here. It'll help enough. Perhaps. Perhaps. It's stuffy in here. You made it that way, everything's hot and sick feeling now because of you. I can tolerate it, the question is can you? I don't know.
How long can you hold out?
Why don't you just give in?
