The Problem of Being Logical.

There is a problem of being too logical, it’s like being able to see while everyone else is unable, it’s like knowing to a solution to a mathematical equation that you cannot speak  or share.

I find this in many areas, where I rationalise something from a startpoint and don’t stop until it comes to an inevitable conclusion (while also accounting for any and all gatherable information and other points of view to find the ‘best’).

The most enraging times are those when someone I know listen to my rationalisation, agree with it being the rationalisation, but still disagree due to some ‘inherent feeling’.

I would like to reiterate that I do not mean I come up with an opinion and hold onto it dearly disregarding all other views, this is not what I do. What I do is find out lots of information, let’s say about a situation, then I rationalise, let’s say, a solution or rationale. From a premise I construct a path, and keep testing each brick, each step against all other bricks and pick the one that stands up the strongest.

The worst times are when others see and agree with the construction of a rationale, using a process like I have already mentioned, however even despite total agreement. They do not accept the end argument, lacking any disputing evidence rationale or argument.

It’s also difficult when people look at what you say or write and look at you like you’re speaking a different language. You start wondering are you?

The end conclusion of this on a personal note, for most (definitely 99% at the least) interactions I speak like I have castrated my own mind for the duration of a social interaction. It is usually easier this way, there is no confusion, a conversation is held and passed. However, there is no stretch, no growth, challenge or stimulation.

The problem of being logical, of being, self-neutering to fit in with everyone else.

I also do not wish to sound pretentious or self-important. I do not value my own opinion above others, I welcome and prefer it when others prove me wrong, provide evidence or a better and more rational view, this excites me and represents growth. I love an intellectual debate, a smart conversation. Questioning reality, experience, perception, views and everything there is to know. I love teaching others or sharing my opinion and prefer greatly others to share theirs. The best thing about other people sharing their opinion (even if I reason that it’s not the best potential evidence in an argument) is that it is potential evidence, it’s another tool to be used. Knowledge providing more. Providing growth.

As always, the problem being too logical. I’m left in a world, either castrated or an outcast. Either way, disatisfied and bored.

The Meaning

The meaning,
The being, place and life.
All for something and all of me.

The place of meaning, life and living.
Placed in a world of being, of staying.

My meaning and place. My comfort and solace.

My place being and moment.

The place I feel at home.
The place to escape my torture.

My place, accepting, my being and place.

My world and my being,
To my shaping.
To my creation.

Shaped into comfort and satisfaction.

My meaning,
My world made whole,
My creation of the meaning,
Not there to begin with.

The End Has Come. The World Goes On.

The end has come,

The finale, the finite experience.

The realisation.
A life I thought I had lost.
Now come to a close.

Given a glimpse.

The future.

To a change I didn’t want.
A change I have found.
Complete novelty.
Different.

The death of the old path I walked,
Kept alive, within my memories.
Fading fast.

A new path outstretched.
New, unfamiliar.

The world goes on.

The path behind me collapses.

A singular choice.
Now the end has come.
To step forth or fall.

Old Wounds

Old wounds,
The scars continue,
The phantom pain,

The wounds unhealing, discoloured and broken inside.
The wounds holding back healing.
The storm in the wound,

A reminder of the pain, the hurt.
The lost part of you.
Broken inside.

Unable to heal, even as you try.

The ongoing reminder,
Of  an old wound gone past,
The remnants remain.

The chains to the memory.
Association of pain, even after it faded.

Hating the chains to the wound.
The crime committed against me.

The wounds on me,
The wounds inside,
The wounds of me.

Those that run so deep,
Internalised into my being;

A toxin,
Poisoning me from the inside,
The heavy blood through my veins

Heavy thoughts, breathing and heart.
Running, within my mind.
Spinning around my thoughts.
Wanting a fix, wanting to repair,
The broken mind.

To escape the reminders,
The immobility,
The paralysis of my broken wound.

Taking tentative steps,
Reluctant,
Collapsing at the weight of my mind.

The wounds that drag me down,
Chain me to the floor,

The abyss of my tartarus.

 

These old wounds.
Tearing at the chains that hold me, confine me.

Roaring in rage.
Into the dying light.
Through the pain, memories and chains.

My voice heard,
An echo in darkness.
Broken, beaten and belligerent.

Battering the prison,
Ripping free of my wounds.

Laughing as I wrestle freedom…

Wrestle myself…

Wrestle my world…

From these old wounds.

 

 

Just been thinking about old wounds, how to feel, how I may fall again. How to avoid it. But worst of all. How old wounds make me reluctant for anything that may produce new wounds. Fills me with rage and confusion. Will go on. Continue to distract myself, until I can find an answer, work out a solution. This is the song I was listening to on repeat when writing this.

Content In Solitude

Content in my solitude,

Alone in the world,

Among the darkness of night.

The long paths taken,

The presence found,

The places been.

Content, alone and moving on.

Marking my presence in the dark of night.

Shifting through being,

An empty wound, moving on and around.

Taking the world in.

Leaving my mark,

A dark spectre on life.

Alone and content in this world.

Moving on and through.

Forging my path with darkness.

In the dark flames of my mind.

The confines of the mind, a raging fire.

The flickering images of the past.

The depths of life,

Echoes of all around.

Within and among, life.

Absorbing and making it mine.

Living and making.

Forging my path through darkness,

Forging my path with those dark flames.

Content in my path.

Living a wound.

Black Pearl Of Night

The darkness smooth of night,

Patterns in the dark sky,

The silent night.

The emptiness and the dark.

The smoothness formed from irritation.

The blackness imparted on the rest of the world.

A different form from the day,

Small lights peppered across the landscape.

A dark silence echoed,

A world untouched by light.

The dark rolling hills,

The echoes of human steps taken in the human day.

Echoes of people unknown,

Activities of humans once passed.

Left empty and barren,

The dark wastelands.

The ice cold wind.

The scars left from day,

A counterpoint from the silent empty night.

The lonesome night.

The silent dark night..

The echoes left from day.

To the black pearl of night.

The silence.

The emptiness of space,

The solo existence in this emptiness of night.

Alone in the dark,

The only person in existence.

The solitude of my thoughts.

Left to the darkness,

This black pearl of night.

Empty, alone, silent, and solo.

The dark shadow cast upon,

The rest of the world, dark and empty,

Eternal. Empty. A mere echo.

A black pearl,

In its dark beauty.

Its dark radiant shine.

The dark storm encircling inside.

Black and dark like the inside of my mind,

Silent and in solitude, like the confines of my mind.

A barren blackness, a counterpart to life.

This black pearl I’ve found.

The silence I live.

Mine to hold,

Before the black sky.

This black pearl I’ve found.

Left forgotten.

This black pearl I’ve found.

The black pearl of my life.

Broken Echoes

Broken echoes,

Of my past,

The mistakes made and continued.

Trusting those who leave me down.

Those I once thought to trust,

Who continue to forget me,

As people do.

Left, as a broken echo to the world.

Drowning out reality.

Drowning out the song of life, as a broken echo.

A ghost of the now,

Cut off off from the world.

Cut out of existence.

Left with this reminder. The broken echo that follows.

The empty words given,

And retracted from me with a sharp pain.

The deceiving smile, of a friend held dear.

Left with this broken echo.

A dear reminder,

Of the pain following trust,

The hurt following friendship.

The lies given without care,

Left in this broken echo.

The repeating sound,

Through the repeated lies.

The broken echo as my reminder.

The times enthusiastically waiting for,

Not given a simple truth. To solidify the pain,

Yet left with the repeating echo.

To grasp me,

Encapsulate me.

Bring me peace.

Not wanting to bring pain or inconvenience.

But being left waiting.

In this broken echo.

My fault for trusting in a friend,

Caring, yet wondering.

Through this broken echo.

Me, a broken echo.

A path once taken,

Me. The ongoing problem.

Me. The broken echo.

Better left forgotten.

Arms Outstretched

Arms outstretched,

The time gone past,

Arms outstretched in comfort, in care.

In love, life and feeling.

In ecstatic feeling of content,

The ups and downs to be weathered.

The life with its arms outstretched.

To find the diamond in the rough.

The times there,

My path outstretched.

Open and to be mapped,

My course in the making.

My openness and care,

My kindness,

The care shown, care felt.

The life’s course,

To stand by what is right,

No matter who says you are wrong.

To live a life of care, kindness and love.

Touching people’s lives as I hope to feel.

To offer kindness and solace,

A warm embrace and kindness with care.

Confidence in who I am.

In who I can become.

No matter who stands in my way.

No matter the challenge to my kindness and care.

I am who I am and proud.

My arms outstretched,

The future to greet, embrace and hold.

To stand and be proud.

To take my future, life and goals.

To make them my own.

To make them whole.

To embrace the feeling.

To leave the obstacles behind,

Confined to my past,

The darkness pushed aside,

To live out what I can be, do and feel.

My arms outstretched to embrace the future I make before me.

My arms outstretched. To make my own path.

To make and embrace the future before me.

Lessons from the Past

Lessons from the past,

The intricate path taken,

My intricate path walked,

The twists and turns,

The path walked, the path lived.

The path I take for my own.

The way I move,

The way I am.

The mistakes once made,

The faults of my past and my mind.

The path I forge towards my future.

Bright and determined,

Persevering to achieve what I need, what I am.

Forging my path ahead,

Through what I must,

Through what I am.

To what I can be, what I can do:

What I can achieve.

My determination pronounced.

The path I must take.

The way I walk with determination into the coming future.

Confining my mistakes to the past.

Mistakes made and a future to be found.

To be made.

To overcome my limitations.

To learn from these lessons from my past, from within.

To forge my future, my path.

Through those lessons from within.

Those lessons from my past.

Screaming At Your Own Confines

My screams at my own confines.

The walls closing in,

The pain drowning out.

No one to help,

No where to go.

Alone in the confines of my self.

Left confused and looking,

In desperation for a solution.

In desperation for help.

Looking and tearing apart my mind and thoughts.

Looking for a way out, a solution.

An escape.

Some help.

A friend to talk to, in my depths of loneliness.

Even as no one can help,

No one can understand.

What is raging in my mind:

The worry and uncertainty.

The longed for solution,

To my panicked fright,

The looming unknown.

The raging desperation,

Dripping from my mind.

Sapping me dry.

Exhausting my being.

Screaming at the confines with no escape.

Screaming at the being that confines me.

The reality that drains me.

The hurt that kills me,

The world that tears me.

The confines from within my mind,

No help to be found, no solace.

No place to find a solution.

No place to find my escape.

The uncertainty drawing on my mind.

Ripping apart my thoughts,

Focussing my pain.

Sharpening my worry.

Keeping me to the confines,

The chains I try to break.

The walls I try to shout down.

Left screaming at my own confines that keep me, the worries that pains me.