Sometimes, to escape the harsh spiky thoughts of the day, I burrow into a safe heaven of my imagination, or the people and friends that I have made in books take my hand and lead me on an adventure of the mind. To put it quite simply, I run away and hide in that place until reality yanks me out by the very hairs on my head, to the real world and the dangers and hazards that it brings, the same world that leaves me with scars and blemishes and rough, bumpy memories that scrape the love from my heart and feelings from my bones.
The human mind is a complexed system from all aspects - the anatomical aspect and the human aspect. It’s a secret for those who wish it to be and an open book for others. No one can ever truly understand it. No one can ever truly know the ins and outs of its system, as everyone’s is different and unique. But what if this wasn’t the case? What if someone could get into your head and under your skin?
I am becoming less and less open, truthful and honest to my friends and family. My inner most thoughts are still mine and even the thought of really opening up scares me.
I have a hot yearning inside of me, that wants to open up, that wants to burst from my caged heart and spread the words on my tongue, itching to be released. But whenever I feel this burning, instead of turning to someone who can help me, I turn to this my diary. I pour my thoughts and feelings into here, and bring this open page to life with them. But it’s not the same, as I get nothing back. I just want to tell someone I’m unhappy and why, but if I can’t do it properly into here, what’s the point of trying? I guess I am just worried that letting go of the last strand of my sanity that I have, will make me also loose my mind and everyone will see the true me.
One day, I will let this girl free. I will send her to her friends and explain how scarred I feel, to my family the weight on my shoulders. But not now, not yet.
Not in one million years. But soon.
For now, just keep smiling.