Honeybee

Metamorphosis
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2020-03-06 02:00:33 (UTC)

Mood for darker things

He said I was triggered. Like I was some precious little snowflake. Well fuck that. I'm in the mood for darker things. I'm in the mood for darker things because they're so deep they don't see the light often. Darkness doesn't have to be evil, you know. They're just the hidden goods that need to be aired out from time to time. Too much sunlight and they get scorched. Original colors... destroyed. Who in the hell wants that? Just because the rest of the world goes round by it doesn't mean I have to. No, I'm in the mood for those dark things on occasion. I'm in the mood for those talks that last all night. For that piece of thread that connects one psyche to the other. No sex whatsoever, because this is a time for souls to interact. Why does everything have to be about the body, you hedonists? I don't belong with you. I'm among you but I'm not of you. The worst thing I can possibly do is play the game.

I should name my anger. That way it'll be easier to speak of these things. That way I can imagine one pair of eyes so the emotion doesn't stray to innocent parties. Different moments during the day preceeded this so that this is only the last straw. I know that as it happens and I will apologise again in the morning. Gosh, I told him he doesn't completely understand what intimacy is. But I'd also like to know why he was so angry by it. He didn't see past my goodnight message, and went away at the first sign of disagreement. I'd say he's a bit sensitive himself. But I know that already.

Sometimes I'm sick of being hyper aware of my emotions. It's like watching gears turn in slow motion, you have the time to inspect every detail but despite the limited speed, you have no way to change it. Emotions are simple, despite what people may think. No matter how complex the emotion feels, it had to have started from a simple point A to point B. The number of the points dictate how complex it is. That in itself is simple. One simply has to be observant and analytical. And I know every detail of what happened just now. I know how to trace it and so I know why I felt the way I did. The reaction I get to it is selfish, it's never to share my understanding of things. I suppose that is selfish on MY part, huh?

I'm in the mood for darker things, for a raven that crooks and red wine spilled on a candle and a black heart that beats three times then explodes. For songs that drag with old age and lyrics that cut through the heart like postmodern poetry. For feeling vulnerable but safe until the sun shines again, right before we all return to being adults.


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