bubbling
Cauldron bubbling. I am the cauldron. Not a fan of this pain.
I edited this. Published 10:05 AM EST. Edited 10:08 AM EST.
It really does hurt. I wish I could verbalize the anguish. I do so with a flow of nonsensical ramblings and chemically driven speeches. I feel the pain… the desire to cease that pain. Temporary relief between the waves… it makes this beautifully deranged concoction of emphasis through verbal expression.
I want to be free of this. My most forward and most seemingly important thoughts come to digital paper through this source, but the source is bad. The source suffers, I suffer. I am the source.
I know it won’t end. I’m sorry for that. To myself, not you. You’re here, which baffles me. But it isn’t something I made you do. I respect your agency. Your choice to be here, and to read. Not everyone understands. Not everyone follows the lines that you follow, the sentences that curl up like a tornado in your mind and create new life in the form of ideas - or maybe they simply bring about a gentle rain of inspiration. They also could simply exist in that space and fade - turn to ash.
Our pain drives us. All forms of it. We fall to our knees and cry out, not knowing what could come next - but we will fight it. Even if it feels like we are just trying to survive… that’s fighting. We don’t give in. There would be no screaming and there would be no anger or fear, if we did that.
That’s what I think. But it’s not what I know. Thanks for being here.
I’m sure there are many just like me. Spouting babble. I’m sure there are people who fake it, too. Using machines to tell their stories. I feel like I can beat them, though hopefully that will never matter. It’s a dreary thought.
Today is a new day. The start of a new week. And it’s gonna be your week. All you have to do is take one step.