Sep 07, 2010 19:31
Having a huge question mark resting in your mind is, I think, a lot worse than having a big angry exclamation point driving the front synapses of your brain. You see, the question mark is nothing but a conversation one has to himself that has nothing but terrible circular logic that can't go anywhere. The soul asks itself the same question, and the mind maybe has a new answer this time. Following the trail of thought often leads to the same bullshit cliff that we got lost at at the first point. The question mark still remains.
I asked her to explain it to me. Talk slowly if you have to. Use monosyllable words. Speak to me as if I'm fourteen and still don't know the intricacies of human emotion. Just give me fuckin anything. But stop shoveling this ambiguous crap about how its just different this time around with this new guy, and maybe I'm sorry that I ended it a few months ago for those said bullshit, ambiguous reasons. Stop telling me I did nothing wrong, that you were so content with me, but just got scared of the content feeling. Say something to me that can be interpreted into: YOU FUCKED UP. I want the onus on me, not her. I don't like the sense of things happening around me as if I'm just a scarecrow and the crows are having their dramas of their own while perched on my shoulders. Nothing can emerge from my speaking box even as the crows claw and shit on me. I HAVE NO CONTROL.
And this is what I wanted from her. It is this curiosity that will drive me insane, and instead of feeding the question mark with the same redundant questions, I just have to stop asking them.
And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
-Friedrich Nietzsche