A purge
Listening to enveloping music like Mogwai (at volumes that could only mean you want it to pervade every crevace of your mind) with emotions flaring is like screaming into the abyss in the searing embrace of a lover. It grasps your hair tightly and forces your body to buckle to the knees. It pulls your head away from your torso as your neck archs backwards. You feel it contract all around you like a full body straight jacket. The demon of emotion inside you contorts your face into a hundred varied squeals and screams and moans. Your body jolts and is suddenly extremely tense. You convulse as the skin of your face become taut and tears are wrung out of you along with your resentment of the anger and frustration and pain and depression and all the time you've lost to your suffering and ruminating. The lover glares at your display and challenges you. You conitnue to scream and it screams back at you. And in that scream you instantly feel "someone comprehends this feeling that tortures me". It validates your feeling even when you don't validate it yourself. Like a species of bird with only one possible partner in all of the world upon hearing the opposing cry you are pervaded by a sense of hope that quiets your scream. You limply fall to the ground.
You release into long stares as the skin of your face releases. The tears feel cold enough to split the skin of your face. The lover lightens the embrace so there is a looseness in your body and it laps up the tears from your face.
Your head falls back and to the side as your eyelids close with incredible ease. Your mouth hangs lazily open. The lover curls around you. There is a pervading limpness and a sense of release. Not like that of a tense muscle giving way into flexibility but closer to what 17th century patients must have felt after being bled by leeches. Your breathing slows and your mouth curls in a slight smile with crestfallen eyes sagging on the cheek.
Hey, it at least I didn't use the royal "we", eh?
You release into long stares as the skin of your face releases. The tears feel cold enough to split the skin of your face. The lover lightens the embrace so there is a looseness in your body and it laps up the tears from your face.
Your head falls back and to the side as your eyelids close with incredible ease. Your mouth hangs lazily open. The lover curls around you. There is a pervading limpness and a sense of release. Not like that of a tense muscle giving way into flexibility but closer to what 17th century patients must have felt after being bled by leeches. Your breathing slows and your mouth curls in a slight smile with crestfallen eyes sagging on the cheek.
Hey, it at least I didn't use the royal "we", eh?