[post transcribed from a paper journal]
Sometimes . . .
Sometimes my mind . . . twists.
Sometimes the splits and cracks and complications; the things in my mind that make me me, that make me we; become more evident – become more real . . . and take over.
Sometimes the parts of me, some of us, the personalities among us (me) that usually hide behind the rest of us, that aren’t strong enough to be seen . . . get to play.
Sometimes when we, the strong, the obvious ones, let them, the weak, the hidden, those that do what they want, and don’t think about the future, take control, to see what they’ll do, to feel what we can’t . . . it hurts.
Sometimes the pain, which is not usually physical, which hurts because they know now that they shouldn’t, that they’re not allowed out, so they don’t . . . i cry.
Sometimes we (I) just want to let go of it all, let them all do what they want, what they should, what they can . . . forever.
Sometimes . . .
