Feels like I've been here before.

"If you only write once every five years, it's okay, as long as it fulfills a need."
Well, there's a need. In the interest of not corrupting that, we're going to nix the titles and tags.
It's likely there will be lyrics interspersed throughout, as well.

Story's old, the black and white have gone to grey.

I mean, generally when I'm not writing or reading a lot, especially when I'm not playing piano much...it isn't simply from lack of need, it's usually a symptom of something deeper; often it is a symptom of something darker. These are my outlets, where I pour out bits and pieces of my soul. It isn't a hobby, it's a compulsion - at least in the sense that breathing is a compulsion.

Lacking that, I'm suffocating. Emotionally? No.
Spiritually, maybe. Feels more right, anyway.

If we're keeping score, it's the memories that are winning out right now.
I don't want to write because I want to avoid accepting that the damn things still have a hold on me.
I don't want to play because if I open myself up like that, I won't have any choice about it.

I say open myself up and I hope you understand. It's the nature of really losing yourself in music, not some cliche. There is nothing more simple, or more powerful (as far as these things go.) At a fundamental level, it is a baring of the soul.

Which is interesting for me to say. Most often, if we were try to pinpoint the underlying cause of my problem on a night like this, we'd decide that it stems from an absence of feeling.
Not to say that I don't feel, but to say that I am particularly talented at suppressing it, burying it and analyzing it until there is little left of the original gist. My mood is stable, just very flat, as my therapist says.

I know why that is, and knowing that makes it less confusing as to why on one end I discuss feeling things in such a powerful sense and on the other I don't feel things much at all.
I've tried explaining it before, but the context was off. I suspect the words were as well.

Think of it like having a fire of your own...and for the most part, it keeps you warm at night.
But like fire, it isn't predictable. Sometimes it gutters out and despite your best efforts you're left cold.
Other times it rages so much you fear it will consume you utterly and leave nothing but ash in its wake.

Most of the time, feelings are like that. They keep you warm. But if, for some reason, you felt everything more strongly...those highs and lows could be lethal.
Instead maybe you sit farther away from the fire. Maybe it doesn't keep you as warm most nights...but then it also isn't as likely to make you freeze when it goes out, or to burn you alive when it rages.

Funny thing is, I think you eventually go numb from the cold.

So here I am, knowing that if I let myself feel things again I'm going to have to deal with all this pain I've kept at bay.
Yet at the same time, I'm tired of feeling so far away from everything, everyone.

Not sure what I'm going to do about that, yet.

- C