there was a moment tonight, when i was looking up at the ceiling while attempting to sleep that i felt true disgust for myself.
not at all pleasant.
i felt my face twitching, and a flat tension cutting my head in two. the sentences that i was putting together kept on overtaking each other, running over each other, overlapping, unscrambling one another, words escaping from and chasing words. the dialog was quiet but quarrelsome, nothing was being truly said because everything was always interrupted. a vast doubt would cut off any thought with a new one, after only a third of the old one had been heard, then only a quarter, and then even less, so that soon there was only a running cacophony left.
that's when i realised that i simply needed to choose. i think the realisation itself was a choice made, for with the occurence of the realisation, i found out why it was that i needed to choose. i needed to choose because otherwise i'd believe that i've gone mad and would most likely either kill myself or devote myself to jesus. neither of which appeals to me.
and so i chose.
sometimes dark tides rise within me. and i'm not about to drown.
that, tonight, is completely obvious. moon and sun on the tongue, still.
insomnia does that to you.
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