Blue on a Bright Blue Day

It is a beautiful day, airy and so bright blue. My own blue that feels black makes that blue seem stark white. I am drowning in an ungraspable melancholy. I do not know why or from where these feelings come. Wait, I do! I do not allow myself to feel them, these grey swinging-low moods. I have put my heart in a steel cage, when instead I should put it in a cardboard box, where it can breath and poke holes in the walls to let the light in. The beautiful airy bright blue blue light. The last few months have been especially good. I still feel as if I am dreaming. I have never been this free, never has everything seemed to just fall into place like now. This has lulled me into a false security, which is being slowly ripped with each passing day. I can see myself for what I am: selfish and self-destructive, weighed down and flying at the same time on the arrogance of my youth. I can see this reality for what it is: flawed and dangerous. I always knew these things. Do we not always know these truths about ourselves and the world? We just choose to hide from them, to close our eyes to them, seeking solace in our fantasies, constantly distracting ourselves away from the painful whispers.

I know how to ruin good things. I know how to hurt people, and even as I know what I am doing, I cannot seem to stop. I know how to break hearts. Oh, I know how to break hearts! And I can always tell when one is imminent. I see one coming now, smelling its smell like burning flesh and coarse salt. It stings my already closing eyes. I cannot watch another fire I have lit and fanned and nursed into a conflagration lay waste and leave barren the fields where flowers were planted for me. Hurtling into an oblivion, the sour smoky winds whip my face dry and crack my lying lips, peeling the skin off, unmasking me and laying me bare: a coward and a fraud. Only I can see this. Why do you not see who I am? Why do you see what you only want to see, the shiny façade and the glowing smile? Can you not see the cracks and the snarl? And, like all guilty people, I want to be caught, to be undressed, and in the ensuing humiliation, in the glare of honest accusations, be both punished and expiated. Hate me so that I am not the only one who hates me. I have loved myself enough, and so have you. Bring me back down from the loft of my supposed infallibility. Do it now, while it is still bright and blue and the white light touches everything pure with its holiness, before I sink further into my own blue.


 

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