Little Lies

I don’t know what this is, this damn feeling of distraught. But then again, it still can easily be disguised as a convoluted sense of fear and pain. It’s demanding to be felt, not wavering till it’s gotten the attention it deserves.

I need to talk to someone, no sorry, I need to talk WITH someone. He once mentioned my being really layered up. Like a chateau within a chateau. Walls built on top of walls. But, in as much as he knew that part of me all too well, he still lacked the in-depth cognizance to who I really was.

Ne’er been known to wear my emotions on the inside out like every normal human, cause damn how weak, open and gutted would that leave me. Ha! Could no one have told me how much of an emotional imbecile I was?

So, here I am aching in deep despair. Seeking nothing more than that single person to vent to, be completely naked with. That human to drip both ourselves off our deepest secrets. But no, I’ve spent hours, days and most if not all my years shutting out every warm blooded being within a close-proximity who wanted to strip themselves naked with me psychologically.

And now, my bottled-up emotions have bordered on psychosis. So, I’m guessing this is where I part with sanity and embrace the emptiness and silenced voices in my head. I don’t know what’s more daunting, feeling the existence of the voices inside your head or it’s tranquility.