When reality confuses you

The scene in my room is like a weird dream, and this reality is hurting my mind. I am standing and staring at my life in confusion. I guess it is like staring out of an open window. You know that the sky is meant to be blue and the clouds are meant to be white, but nothing is as it should be. This sky is an array of confusing colours, and the clouds do not look like clouds at all. I close and open my eyes again hoping, to see a semblance of reality, hoping it is all a dream, but no, the twisted morbid sky stays. I wish I could escape the vision in front of my eyes, but the sky will not listen.

Traumas are the same. Outside events impact your mind and the way you see the world. You revert back behind the window - scared, anxious, confused, weary and terrified. The world seems weird. You do not feel as confident enough as you’d like to be, to live it. Scared, because terror and fear have happened to you. Mind and world just spin all out of control.

The land I live on is not how it should be. The image beyond my window is what I do not understand or wish to see. White like these traumas that are behind me but still somehow linger within me. It still hurts to look at the world, my life, my past because all I see is a muddled sky with confusing colours, breaking my mind, trapping me, even after all this while.

How do you escape feeling this way? And do you blame yourself once again? I could blame myself or the world, either way, it hurts too much. Sometimes it feels like it all happened to someone else, like a weird distant dream. Maybe, it is just reality confusing me, or it is just a dream.

Paranoia II

I’m scared that there are people watching me in the dark. I turn my head and glimpse out of my periphery, only to see shadows and paintings of laughing faces. Patterns slowly diminish in the absence of light, but an impending doom resides, burns more intensely. I tighten my pose and clench my fists. It waits in the corner, nose pressed to the cold, while I cover my face and lower my eyes in hate, self hate. Always watching but never receiving anything but judgement and deceit. Nothing ever comes of it.

I’m alone here in the dark, marking my territory with absent eyes and great reprise. No, I don’t feel complete. Absent of any remaining desires, I claim it’s outstretched hand and let It take me. My benefit isn’t loneliness. My sides ache, and my shoulders cry out; sore and weak from holding up the world, the world within, the world without. This is the day I weep, the day I leave these memories behind, or perhaps, fall further into misery; holding the last piece I took with me, a fragment of what used to be; and watch it disperse into ash from my withering palm.

I will wait for better times on the other side and find myself drawn to your gravity, once again, but time has become abstract. Hours and decades are unclear to me, but there is hope beyond this barren place where time cannot follow, only erase. My burdens absorbed. I let it take me. A voice tells me to run, but something inside refuses let go, but fret not! These are the shadows of my mind, my daily chore, nothing more.