Out of Balance

Disorientating. Laughs of torment and confusion play spin the bottle with reality. Most times, one can simply regurgitate what makes them flee, giving relief for the briefest seconds, only to be drenched in the deafening sound of their own woes. Where is there a place of rest? A place of security? Hopeful for a chance of flight, 2 feet steady themselves and hold. Heaving at the sudden silence, chaos takes a moment to process, to react. The rush is vitalizing, giving them the courage to take that step.

Then the mocking begins. In their ear, their mind is corrupted in doubt in which has them aimless, In a sense. The sense of questioning themselves and their being, if it was worth their imminent failure to leave the carpet full of anticipating maggots feasting in the broken flesh of their mind.

Where was ease in which one can have in their life as everyone puts bluntly? Nonexistent, perhaps? Where was the hope for something out of bounds in the limits of their own mind? And how it can be accomplished?

Sickly swamps of optimism and gave the false sense of reality, allowing for easy access when proven so. How can this be the place of which they have to face when everything has been so simple? So comforting? So fabricated by lies that the lies lie about the lies themselves? The questions are not helping, only making one’s simple life all that more confusing. Immovable forces of both doubt and certainty kicked and screamed, begging to be fed and acknowledged. Where is the balance of both pessimism and optimism?