It's Just Too Much...

[Steven Stone]

I lay in bed, thinking to myself. Thinking of all the things that have happened to me in my life thus far, and how they've affected me and shaped the way I am. Thoughts that seem to circle me in my everyday life, slightly haunting me and blocking my mind whenever I need use it.

Why do I feel this way...? Why must I feel like I'm stuck in an epic battle with my mind, evidently losing...? I want to win, but the power of my mind just keeps growing stronger, making me cower before my own self. I feel as though I've grown weak. That the mind I'm fighting is trying to take over. But it just doesn't make any sense. It's my mind, why would it feel like I'm the one losing?

~~~

It's just too much for one person to handle. I've never actually talked to anyone about this, having to talk about other things that trouble me, never really getting enough courage to talk about this in particular. But when I think about it hard enough to myself, I feel as if only a simple warding spell is cast. A spell that eventually weakens and dies, leaving my thoughts to provoke me.

~~~

I feel odd feeling the way I do, but it never seems to matter. I haven't been in situations as worse as others, yet I feel as though I have the biggest battle to fight. A fight with myself. A fight I fear I'll never win. A fight that not even the most powerful can win.

I've fought with myself plenty of times, eventually coming to a conclusion as to how to fix my problems, but they never seem to work. My mind is always one step ahead, and stops me from succeeding. It continues to revolve around me, often laughing at the thought that one day I'll be able to feel peace again.

~~~

I feel like I've gone mad, yet I continue living. And that, ultimately, is a battle all its own, which is just too hard to think about. I don't want to end my life right here and now, as I've always told people not to give up, and to never stop fighting until you win. But I don't feel I'll ever win.

~~~

I've so many emotions when I do things, that I never know how I feel about things. I'll often place mask over my face, giving it the expression that I have problems. Yet I do. But some people can see through the mask, and I'd simply lie to them and tell them there's nothing wrong. Yet there is. And there a those very few who will see through the lie as well, yet they do not continue to question me, leaving me to my problems. It's not that I want to lie, and not be my true self, but I've done it for so long that it's become a normal thing. A normal thing to do. Lie about my feelings. And I do not entirely mean to lie, I'm just not sure how anyone would react to my problems.

I sit up, and get out of bed, walking toward the window. I look out. A cloudless night sky with hundreds upon thousands of stars glowing in the dark.

My mind seems like this. A vast oblivion, with lights to follow. Yet whenever I get close enough to a light, my thoughts fog up, and I can't tell where I am, or where I was going.

A small satelight flashes into the picture. First red, then blue. Then white, and back to red.

I'm that satelight. Stuck floating in that oblivion, never being able to reach one of those stars. Stuck wandering the sky with no where to go. I can't go up because of the force of gravity, yet I can't go down because I'd crash into the ground.

I sigh.

I wish, even just for a moment, that someone would hear my plea for help. The plea that never comes out into the public. A plea that doesn't even come out to the closest of my friends and family. A plea that is only known to me and my ever-winning mind.

[Steven Stone]

Actually... I don't know how I feel right now... A surge of emotions is washing over me right this very moment, as with every other moment I've lived.

~~~

There's never been a time when I wasn't feeling more than one emotion at a time.

The first time I fell in love. The very moment my uncle passed away. The many times I had succeeded in something. The times when I was alone. The times I had a friend that cared, and the times I cared for them.

I had always had some extra emotions hiding inside, usually only one being expressed. There had also never been a time I had been emotionless. Even when emotions seemed to cancel each other out, it hadn't seemed like a battle. Neither was wrong, and neither wanted the other not to exist at that moment. It felt right to have both.

~~~

I don't know why these things happen to me. And I am certain they happen to others as well, though I cannot say the same for everyone. How each person seems to cope with these things is different, and I have not yet seemed to find that method for myself.

[Steven Stone]

The torture of having to endure this is simply too much. And everytime I enter a mind-boggling state such as this, thinking about what's wrong and how I can right that wrong, I become secluded from the rest of the world.

I'm now slowly pacing back and forth, knowing my surroundings well enough not to have to try effortlessly not to trip over something in the dark. I start to hum a small, self-made tune, that soon fades as my thoughts take over.

I vowed, long ago, that I would not end my own life. But the thought of it can be utterly persuasive. And thinking of it would just be a selfish act. Who would I be once it's done? What would people think of me? 'A selfless person who committed suicide due to causes known only to himself. Someone unwilling to open up to anyone to ask for help...' The effect of emotions on me would be devastating, even after death. I wouldn't feel the need to live a life after death. Not even reincarnation would satisfy me. I'd simply drift into nothingness, most likely still being haunted.

A tear starts to roll down my left cheek, though it's not caused by the though of the guilt washing over me upon my death.

I have no intentions of committing suicide. I want to live my life, like a normal person — though I know there is no such thing. I only want to get this madness sorted out.

Why do I think this way? When will I get rid of the madness? How can I get rid of it? What will become of me after I do, or even if I can't?

I lay back in bed and half-stare at the ceiling above.

If only I'd be willing enough to open up to someone... Someone willing enough to talk to me. Talk to me, and cure me. Cure me, and make me the person I want to be...