LifeOnTheVerge

the complete works of erica j. radford
2016-10-12 04:32:54 (UTC)

A Day in the Life of an Emotional Masochist.

I tell myself not to think too much.
I tell myself not to read into things.
I tell myself not to cry over spilled milk.
So I don't.
But my subconscious always knows better.

So I have strange dreams.
So I have strange nightmares.
So I get strange signs.
Get upset over nothing.
Keep things to myself.
Brood in my self preservation.
Brood in my forced lack of thoughts.
Let myself have pity days to purge.
Stride on another day.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

So my self starts feeling the pressure.
So my brain gets sick of preservation tactics.
So my heart wells up with an overload of emotion.
And then my tongue loses it's hold.

So then I get real honest.
My tongue points sharply.
My eyes open and flood.
And people see me break.
Or hear me break.

And sometimes it produces good things.
Renews trust or strengthens bonds.
But sometimes it does bad things.
Like breaks bonds and severs ties.
And sometimes it was a healthy choice.
But often it was initially a bad choice.

Finding good from the garbage I put myself through.
It isn't a way to live.
Not realistically.

Sometimes I praise the fact that I take risks.
But people don't always understand what kind.
My heart is tired of the push and shovel down.
So it's time to learn to move on.

I know where to start...
It's listening to the words I write.
The things I try to enforce on myself and my decisions.
I try not to kill myself over becoming a hypocrite sometimes.
But I think it's time to let the commentary flow free.
Let my heart guide my mind.
Let my mind weigh the options.
And stop limiting my processes.

A day in the life of an emotional masochist is this:
We always know better.
But we always jump anyways.




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