I rarely used to write this kind of thing. But, since listening to poets read their struggles at open mic nights and the candid yet richly metaphorical lyrics of Twenty One Pilots, I have tried it myself and found that regurgitating my mind's chaos can be cathartic, if generally unfit for human consumption. Most of them are dead-end complaint-style exposition. Like, dear self, why are you such a disaster?
But I wrote one with a pretty metaphor that pleased me. And then I wrote one that wasn't quite an answer to the first, but could be. At any rate, I feel like it's two sides of a coin. It's a negative view and a positive view, side by side. Sort of borrowing imagery from TØP and Björk in a few places, with ships and video loops. So, here they are. Just because. I guess it's for myself; I do too much Hamlet-ing.
Part One: Screaming Creatures and Ships
Sometimes, it's loud inside. As if a small creature is trapped in a dark cave somewhere deep inside. It is wailing, but the sound is lost in the exitless cavern. It reverberates and builds, pressurizing like a steam engine. But there is no outlet, no safety valve.
Surrounded by others, isolated humans, disconnected, all pretending. Do they have screaming creatures inside? Or hollow caverns? They may, they may not, but no one will admit it, no one will say, no one will ask.
So we just keep pretending. Pretending we're ok. We remain as islands, isolated by waves of shyness, currents of shame, salted with the savor of safety.
We close off our trade routes and scupper our ships.
What foreign cultures will we develop in our isolations?
I just want to sleep all the time.
Part Two: Circuit-Breaker
You can make yourself a victim. It will feel good. You will be sour with bitter hatred and sorrow. It will feel good. It's not your fault, you have been hurt by others: people, the world, destiny, even another aspect of yourself. Your problems were caused by another. It's not your fault. It will feel good.
But it's a trap. It's a cycle, a circuit you lock yourself into. It feels good to feel bad. You nurse your sorrow like a baby. That baby will grow and grow and become heavier and heavier. One day, it will consume you. It feels good to feel bad. But it still feels bad. It's a trap. It's a cycle. A treadmill you can walk and walk and walk and get nowhere. Step off of it.
It feels bad.
Leave it behind. Abandon the child of sorrow and let it die on the rocks, un-suckled. It won't be easy. But you can release yourself from the cycle. Stop repeating the video-loop. Release play and look forward. You can let yourself out of the trap and leave self-pity behind. Sadness and hardship might not leave right away. But now you have the chance to escape them.
It will feel good.