feelings are funny.
when so many unexpressed emotions and thoughts collect, full of unused colours, when the time comes for the different colours of paint to stain them, nothing comes out. nothing can be expressed. the canvas remains blank.
it’s like if you slowly kept increasing the number of watts of electricity making the light bulb shine brighter each time. the room it illuminates will get brighter, and brighter and brighter till finally it just goes white. the light goes bam!…it becomes blindening, deafening. the huge mass of whiteness in a confined space is so strong, so loud that it turns into a heavy silence.
ssshh…be quite now…..hear that beat?…my heart beat…..it’s rhythemic but slow.
my heart is my defective organ.i believe everyone has got a defective organ and i used to think mine was the brain. but i don’t think my brain started off messed up. it used to be fine but was damaged by injuries and experience..no that’s not sad….its extremely cool..
but my heart….messed up since day one. i know it, because it told me. i can bet you it skips a beat alternatively. for every beat it skips, my enitre body and brain misses one shot of blood to feast on.it circulates one shot of blood every 2 seconds while other bodies get a shot per second. and these empty beats or moments of no beats all collect. for every bit of me, the result of each missed beat collects and the massive white light with its heavy silence is my slowness. my heavy movement, heavy steps, heavy head, slow reaction. theres a purpose for everything. even every defect. the skipping of beats is my energy saver, my little half hearted mechanism of ‘yeah i am here…partly….while my other half is chillin out’…so when the time comes for every 2 seconds i get 3 heart beats and kabaam! i’m the man!…
fuck knows…i didn’t intend to make sense….i never do to anyone other than myself….or do i??
everything has a purpose, but they do not necessarily have to have reasons. my defective heart…. i like making it sound like i ‘suffer’ from a condition…yes i’m pathetic….anyway like i was saying…my defective heart may not have be the result of something. it just is the way it is. and if i want i can hate it….curse it…and feel bad that it’s not normal….or brood over why it could not be perfect….or i could find its use. i could see the good side to it…it’s purpose. i think it’s easier to accept a thing with a purpose when you can create a reason for its very existence…i think people find it hard to acept that some things, infact alot of things are just the way they are. like if there’s a god or a couple of gods, or however the whole world came into being, it seems always easier for people to accept their existence, when it comes from a story. even if the story has missing bits and peices. it seems less acceptable that everything was just placed together in the first position they seemed to fit into eachother ..
and there maybe a purpose to all that i have said…..and there may be reasons that triggered this blog……there may have been a billion tiny little reasons and this blog is the massive white with an entourage of heavy silence that says alot but never gets to the point..becuase the point is too loud, it’s become deafening and it has settled as a huge mass of quite..(or quiteness).