Monday, June 28, 2010

To Swim (subjective)

Outwardly expressing and inwardly regretting.
I can tell where this is going, I can tell where I will be again once it is all said in done.

There are only so many evenings left in me that I can manage to perfectly (in my mind) express my feelings towards a current situation in such an articulated manner that whoever reads this will feel exactly as I do now, or how I will shortly into the future.
Please, don't get the wrong impression here. I am not assuming all will fail and I will be left in the situation I was in shortly before.
I've swam in a deeper ocean and inhaled greater amount of the salty ocean in times past, but the salt is corroding my throat and I can hardly breathe on the shore these days.
The idea of plunging my self into the tide and letting the undertow take its toll on my body again is hardly a thought I can bear to be content with. the powerful pull of the tide is drawing close, with more force and and intensity than it has had in the many times I've stood on this very stretch of sand. This may be my very last attempt. the last time my body can with stand such an asphyxiation, a wiling suffocation. I won't return from this endeavor the same- not that I ever did, but after this last.

It's always the same now that I think about it. The song of the siren is luring me, showing me what could be- what I've always wanted and longed for and so I run blindly into the dark waters that seem to have no end, and the harder I swim towards her, the further out in the growing waves she seems to become and after too long my arms grow weary, legs take on fatigue and my lungs slowly fill with the salt, cold, choking water of a dream of what i want but will never be able to attain. My own drive for the ideal future is exactly what is continuously putting myself into an unconscious state near death. It's impossible for you, the reader to understand and so I try in futility to paint an image into words so that you will someday understand what it is I struggle with, but I am not sure my writing will ever be more than a vain attempt at project emotions to another. That's what it's all about right? Cause one to feel? Spar a thought process? Maybe I should broaden my attempts and just create an interest in you to read, to divert your attention to something other than the mundane and the ordinary. with all the years I've considered myself just a notch below ordinary, I may not be able to achieve this. I have gone far off course now.

I will swim, and will pursue....but I will take a breath of sodium and mire. An inhalation of the dark, muddy water just as I always have. If i do not reach the shores of the siren I will surely perish and float lifeless in an almost serene body of water, a slow decent into what will be my final resting place, a pillow of sea weed and a blanket of muddy ocean floor. I will be happy there.....because anything is better than suffocating and finding myself on the same shore over and over.

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