Defining lines

Where does the line stop, where does it fuse into being something else. When do you know that one things flows into an entire different thing or vanishes completely from the face of the earth. Is a scar just a stripe on the skin, a god awful sin on the flesh, disappearing in the rest of the skin like it is nothing. When does a thought become an obsession, or an idea because something more? If we were to tell where the line ends and something else begins, wouldn’t the world be so much clearer? Would I be able to tell where a normal life ends and insanity starts, or when sadness becomes depression? If there was a defined line in everything will we be able to tell the truth about how we feel. I think it is not enough to ask to be able to tell the difference in emotions, than to be confused about what you are feeling. Or worse, if you are feeling at all. Sometimes I cannot tell the difference between the state I am in, sometimes I know for sure, but do I? What if my tiredness becomes depression or my depression makes me tired, is there then a line that stops or does it fuse into the next thing or will it just vanish and get combined with everything around it. A beautiful striped of blood pouring down my arm tells me that there is pain, just pain and relief, it beings and stops somewhere if I only press the razor into my flesh hard enough. I still wonder if that is the only there when there is a defined line between anything I feel. Are we so complex that we don’t know what we feel most of the time, but how are we to deal with it. Am I the only person that seems to struggle to put these feelings into place or is everyone struggling with the same, yet overcoming it or letting it go without paying much attention to it.

Sometimes my head is filled with a poll of different emotions, different colours, different shades. Violently moving around as if they are in a whirlpool of music choreographed by a monkey on strings trying to grasp the things he can’t with his mind. Are my emotions controlled by a putted of me deep within myself, dancing to the ridiculous music coming through a deformed gramophone. I wish I could draw the line, put the emotions, the feelings and the thoughts into little boxes and label them. Yet, every day I seem to move further away from understanding what I feel. I thought I had overcome the feeling of utter disappointment, still I have not. For the first time I let myself get excited, something I do not allow myself to feel to protect me for getting hurt, and I get hurt, the same way as happened to me a hundred times before. The difference now is that I opened my heart and I felt the pain shooting through my little black heart like a thousand razors moving across the edges and grazing it so every beat hurts. I feel like I should be this cold hearted apathetic person for the rest of my life so I don’t have to dry over disappointment, so I don’t have to hurt myself to make myself feel better and worse. If my life is to be lifeless that I rather not live at all, for I will not live something that is already dead. If I could live in freedom from myself, from hurt, from vanishing, deformed and fusing lines I would do it in a heartbeat just to be able to live instead of dying over and over again until there is nothing left to die or live for but the thought of really taking my life. I am not ready to leave for the other side, I will not succumb to my own fears, to my own pain. I don’t know how long I will try to survive since I cannot live yet, but I pray that one day I will live and else I will die doing so.