just want to hold on tight...

....that must be love, no doubt....
...can't get you off my mind....
...if you ever will be mine, I will never ever let you down...

....I feel really raw right now. Really, really raw, and I can't account for it. Other than binge-listening to "It's Only You (Part II)" by Salem Al Fakir...it's like it's burning out all the BS in my skull, leaving behind all the good stuff, all the not-cynical stuff, all the...real stuff. The good stuff.

...that must be love, no doubt...

I'm sitting at my desk, in tears almost, and I can't really tell you why....other than the vision being harbored in the Sacred Seventh Space of my mind...you know how they say you can only hold 7 things in your mind at a time? I think of the last 3-4 places as being those things that never really go away, that are truly never far from one's mind. And right now, in the Seventh Space, there's a strange vision, akin to the virginal world they discover at the end of BSG. Akin to the rare sights the show "Planet Earth" provides the civilized world.

....if you ever will be mine, I will never ever let you down...

I feel a little crazy....like I'm constantly on the verge of an epiphany. That the vision will blaze forth from the Sacred Seventh Space and take me over, becoming a muse of sorts, and an idée fixe which I might not ever escape - the lens through which my world will be viewed, the measure against which all experiences are posed...like a prophet, starved, singing the reality which is and not the reality we see.

...shouldn't tell you all I got inside...

That's probably good advice for me....or maybe not. I don't know anymore. I'm afraid if I sing all that's in me, whether it's mine or not, people will run away, or be annoyed, or roll their eyes at me. And there's a level of vulnerability involved in singing all one's Self that *does* give a damn, that would not be able to endure mockery, endure judgment, endure disregard, that would be crushed.

But I feel like I'm...wasting away a little mentally because I don't sing myself out anymore. I think that's why I'm craving solitude; there's no risk. There's no reason to worry. I don't have to worry about offending, about inconveniecing, about annoying...just the solitude, the silence, which accepts it all and does not judge, is not annoyed...but other than being filled, about which it does not feel one way or the other, receives nothing from the songs...

...and that's what I want. I want something to come from the songs. I want them to be received, to resonate, to echo, to strike a chord, and set something out, release something, something that makes the listener more of who he or she is, or longs to be....

...I just don't know anymore. I live such a surface life, clinging to weekends, clinging to my solitude, in a quiet desperation I pretend not to be aware of...

I can't figure out if I'm lonely or restless or just tired. I oscillate between "lonely" and "desperate to be alone." I can't sort it out. If I let myself feel it, there's a tremendous feeling of ~tired~ underneath the surface, but I don't want to feel it. I want to forget it's there, keep pushing on...it seems rather straight-forward, not feeling the tired, but it's not so easy. Ignoring it is as taxing as the fatigue itself. But I have to ignore it; ignoring me helps me feel normal, feel more like myself before fibro...

...desperation + tired = something I'd rather not consider...

I'm unfocused today, unfocused and throbbing, hungry to be home, to be Home, and wishing the thousands of dreams in my skull would either come to some kind of fruition, or just leave me alone...go away...disappear. The World will always tax us, it will always make demands of us - we can hardly escape that. But when the Inner World makes as many demands, well...it's easy to see the morning star as a harbinger to frustration, to see the moon pulsing in the sun, and to want to disconnect from the World, in order to answer the calls of the Inner World.

That's probably my problem - I've not really hearkened to the Inner World for a long while, and perhaps I've neglected it, to be honest. So I'm feeding it music, to make up for that. I'm watching BSG to feed it distilled humanity. I'm committing myself to solitude to encourage my mind. I'm writing letters to vent the furnaces of the heart. I'm...trying...