Magnets & Suppressions

I become so broken at the barest flicker of a thought. It hurts to have lost sometimes. I can’t help but to think that as I stare out the same window, onto the same empty street, with my cup of coffee warming up my hands. A sweet candle is burning but I haven’t yet turned out the lights. It’s 4:30 in the morning and there is nothing left for me but broken thoughts. Whenever I’m up this late, I am picking through the destruction of my mind, the remnants of relationships, the elusive pull of long-forgotten feelings. It’s like my own personal movie that I create first with my mind, and then with my fingers.
Now, with the things that hurt me so completely distant from my current life, I frown at the broken connections. It is not the memories that sting anymore. Any idiot can call up venom to a long-healed snake bite. No, what I’m talking about is the…fading. That’s exactly what it is.
I crave the days when new connections burned through my bloodstream. Every feeling felt like fire. And of course, there were the secret kisses and whispered dreams. I miss that – the talking until the wee hours, or until one ran out of breath, whichever came first. The free-flow of feelings and the electricity of a simple pair of fingers brushing across my skin. Lying under sapphire-painted skies, with the moon forever dangling over my head. It was so heady, and difficult, and incredible.
Everything now seems so lackluster. There is no life to anything. The closest I get to new connections is sand beneath my feet or the whisper of warm breezes across my nape. There are things to connect me to others but I don’t know how to access them and forgo the stress.
Tell me, how do good things fall apart? I remember being so incredibly close with people, and now everything is all irritation and hurried and broken. I fought so hard to keep people close to me, and they are collecting dust in the back room. Dust because there is nothing to say, nothing to follow up all the hurt and beauty and electricity. What is there to say after you fall apart and try to put yourselves back together? The world feels so empty, then.
I guess I just always yearn for things past. How could I not? I miss the things that kept me tangled and vulnerable and beautiful. I miss the things that burned blue and red and green…until they raged into angry scarlet, gray, black. I no longer live through myself – I live through books, through games, through other people. Things that are not mine to utilize, really. Who needs to know an elaborate story when such a story is already being created right before one’s eyes, I ask you? A story one can feel and breathe and exist through. The answer seems to be anyone but me.

It’s all so confusing and it leaves me with the restless, empty feeling. Like my youth has dissipated and I’m just this empty shell of a girl at nearly 19. Like I’ve experienced all the burning connections God allows me; I’ve maxed out my limit. I know it’s silly but the thought persists, gnawing at my soul until my eyes refuse to shut. I am not an empty shell.

I’d really, really kill for something magnetic right now. Something to create me or destroy me. Maybe both.

Suppressed,
Amanda