Unravelling the context.

Sometimes I cannot get the words out of mouth to say the right things.
Usually I think I say the wrong things, or perhaps the right things at the wrong time. Especially the wrong things at the wrong time.

That tightening in my stomach occurs more often nowadays. A tiny bubbling of it which I chosen to ignore initially. But now I am not so sure.

It is unpleasant to know that kind of knowledge is affecting me in a way which determines my attitude toward things. Should I choose to ignore it? Or just avoid it altogether?

With these two options which I have analytically thought over and over again, I know that both would cause distress upon my heart and mind venturing its way into the very wall which I have built up so strongly.

It might as well crumble down right now but I am still fighting it.
I know it cannot be helped, as to the knowledge of those contributing factors which I so wish would somehow disappear.

In my heart I know it is a good thing, but the tightening has made its mark as if it was saying, "No! No! I refuse to believe that!"

Which brings me to where I am now.
This is difficult.
Very difficult.


The choice I have made is backfiring. I still have ended up in that same battlefield, where shrapnel is scattered all around, but I'm still shooting as if there is still a war going on. But in reality, no one is there.

That is I suppose, an annoying aspect of me being overly analogical.
Try to be more laid back will you?

Well yes, I shall try that.
It also seems I'm hiding. Am I really being me?
Or am I just fantasizing this whole thing?
Which in other words, that this is not reality.

If I ever put myself in Pierre- Count Bezukhov's shoes...
All the things that he went through... is somehow similar to what I--

Or am I somehow similar to Adolf Karlovich Berg?
Who desires to be like everyone else?

Oh what a pity. I keep comparing myself to some characters in a book I just read.
I won't go as far as Natasha-- too late.

Enough is enough!

This shall probably not be a very good read. As it expands in detail the internal struggle of a somewhat non-fictional character in my own little world.

If you choose to ignore it, feel free as I am not the one stopping you.
Read on? Well yes, then you must be intrigued.

Being overly quixotic, I avoid showing my unctuous countenance as I recite the following impromptu libretto. It may be a tad obscured, but believe me when I say the task at hand is somewhat oppressive. The lull I had been in seemed to have mutilated the sporadic, awakening the long lost tantalizing feeling we all know we deeply wish to go away.
My attempts to be insouciant shall be deliberated, though I must think to be said tersely , everything and nothing seems to be unfathomable.
In hopes of alleviating the grotesque cacophony, the stoic thinking I have not yet acquired unnerves me in way that has left me completely ethereal. Although I choose not to be seen that way.


...

Well. None of this jibber-jabber probably made any sense to you.
(Unless you of course were intelligent enough to decide to decipher this code and unlock the hidden meanings sprawled so clearly and plainly into it.)
But in recent estimates, no one would bother trying.

So in short:
"Well there really is nothing to say.
As this message portrays
Of what I hide and what I feel.
Something that doesn't pass reality,
but in reality, it is really real."

:)