Here's A Thing

Introduction

This is Fiction. There is Nothing Wrong. This is made up. I thought I would write a poem, but that would be too much, so I will do it as a fictional story or situation, and just leave you guessing on the outcome, if there is one, and you know with my writing that sometimes there isn’t. Also, this may go off in random directions like Bob Dylans’s “TaraNtula” (yeah it has a capital “N” in there, that wasn’t a typo on my part) and that inspired me to write a book called MiTaraNtula but that was pre Vocal and is still lying in wait and may one day resurface.

So Here’s A Thing

I may have to see someone about this. Something is doing my head in and I cannot talk to anyone about it. If I do, then people will shun me and not talk to me. It's almost Kafkaesque, and you know what that means, well normally in Kafka the protagonist is unaware of what is happening, but here I am aware of what is happening but there is nothing I can do to solve the conundrum, and it just gets worse minute by minute hour by hour.

The only thing I am sure of is that I cannot confide in anyone, not even a confessional priest because I know his vow of confidentiality would be blown out of the window along with his priestly vows.

I can say nothing, I have to let it stew and that is not a good thing for anybody, especially not me. Uncontrolled stress and high blood pressure are not kind bedfellows in my physical body. This could destroy others but I think I can deal with it, but I cannot tell anyone.

I have to work this out myself and live with it as the consequences of opening up do not bear thinking about.

I am trapped in a frighteningly horrible loop that, at this moment in time, shows no sign of stopping or slowing down. Meanwhile, I have to carry in with my normal daytime life, my job and general home chores, and give the impression to everybody that nothing is wrong and my life is perfect.

I know I am not the only one in this situation, and similarly, others can’t call for help either, well some have done and they are now total outcastes with absolutely no hope of redemption ever.

It#’s Just Like

If I told you what it is like I would be letting you in on what it is, and that is a definite no-go area. This is a secret that must be kept at all costs. It cannot be let loose at all, even though it is destroying what is left of my mind. If only I could trust someone enough to ask for help, but I can’t.

No one could possibly understand, they would just tell me I was making a mountain out of a molehill, but this is one hell of a molehill.

And then the day does end and I can descend into my nightmares. I don't know if I ever sleep, but I spend five or six hours in my bed so I am physically, if not mentally rested.

Every day it is there, pressuring me and making life incredibly hard for me, but I have to keep it to myself, I have no choice, if I want to survive, no one can be involved.

In Conclusion

This has been an experiment in writing about something that is totally hidden. It could be anything, but I really hope I have got you wondering what the hell I am going on about. Thank you for coming down this rabbit hole with me, I really do appreciate it.