uncontrollable itch
I often feel the urge to rant about something, the uncontrollable itch in my tongue to stand up and shout about God knows what. I'm not so foolish to believe that the subject matter has anything to do with it. These are times when what's being said has no meaning or focus; it's only the emotions that need to bleed out. Anger, frustration, passion and pressure. The words themselves are secondary to the volume, the gesticulation of limbs and the urgent expression of everything tied up inside.
I don't know what needs to be said. Don't just sit me down and tell me about your current set of concerns – let me know about the nervous tick and tired heart that gives away the truth of what's broken and bleeding inside of you. What is the issue, what's the hard truth? You're worried about society because you're afraid, you're terrified of sin because you're guilty, and you're concerned about friendships because you feel unloved. Let's not beat around the forest, I have no patience for that. A listening ear is only good if the truth is spoken to it.
Most of the hardest psychological frustrations we deal with are difficult because they have no easily identifiable cause. The auditory, visual, and otherwise sensory input is more than we can handle, because the world itself is a confusing place to live. Why do infants cry for seemingly no reason? For the same reasons we do. Because it's all too much, and it builds up slow or fast until we snap. We're broken, and we can't hold back. The shield gets cracked in the face of constant barrage, and I'm sick of pretending that that's not the way it is. We're hardly held together, we're all barely in one piece. If you can manage, please be loving. This might never get easier.
uncontrollable itch
I often feel the urge to rant about something, the uncontrollable itch in my tongue to stand up and shout about God knows what. I'm not so foolish to believe that the subject matter has anything to do with it. These are times when what's being said has no meaning or focus; it's only the emotions that need to bleed out. Anger, frustration, passion and pressure. The words themselves are secondary to the volume, the gesticulation of limbs and the urgent expression of everything tied up inside.
I don't know what needs to be said. Don't just sit me down and tell me about your current set of concerns – let me know about the nervous tick and tired heart that gives away the truth of what's broken and bleeding inside of you. What is the issue, what's the hard truth? You're worried about society because you're afraid, you're terrified of sin because you're guilty, and you're concerned about friendships because you feel unloved. Let's not beat around the forest, I have no patience for that. A listening ear is only good if the truth is spoken to it.
Most of the hardest psychological frustrations we deal with are difficult because they have no easily identifiable cause. The auditory, visual, and otherwise sensory input is more than we can handle, because the world itself is a confusing place to live. Why do infants cry for seemingly no reason? For the same reasons we do. Because it's all too much, and it builds up slow or fast until we snap. We're broken, and we can't hold back. The shield gets cracked in the face of constant barrage, and I'm sick of pretending that that's not the way it is. We're hardly held together, we're all barely in one piece. If you can manage, please be loving. This might never get easier.