Blindly

Blind is how I feel. Or do I just feel like I have had enough of seeing? Because everything I see just turns to mush. I just don’t know. I wish I was blind. So that instead of this slow progression into cynicism I can just shut myself off from emotions on some days. Yeah. Blind to emotions – that sounds good. I will move blindly. And talk blindly. And feel blindly. Fumble around in the dark for nothing. Maybe it’s better that way. I don’t know if I’m right or wrong. I know that I’m really really tired. That’s it, tired.

But on some days I do want to feel. And my hope soars and I think to myself: let’s not be blind for today; wouldn’t that be beautiful? You’ve been cynical for too long; covering your senses mercilessly. Burying your head in books so you can escape your reality. Plugging headphones in your ears to drown out the noise. Handling every item you touch with the utmost fragility because you’re scared it will burst in your hands and drip through your fingers and land on you and then, well, then it’s on you. What if you weren’t afraid for one day? What if you let loose your emotions, and love so blindly? And even though you spend the day thinking and breathing and radiating this exhilarating love, you return to your bed at 12:40am. Thinking. Wondering. Crying. For you felt too much all at once and now you’re facing the music and it’s overwhelming.

And the cycle continues. A cycle of feeling too little and feeling a bit more, before resigning to reality. And even though this cycle breaks me, I still want to feel it. I still want to face the pain. For within pain is love, and within love is pain.

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