Half. Thought.

I'm out of sorts today (and by today I mean everyday). Too many nonsensical thoughts rolling around. All of them unfinished. All of them just short of the point. Too often that is where my thoughts end - I feel like I'm almost to a point of comprehension, and then my thoughts stop short and I am left feeling disjointed. That enlightenment that I desperately need dances in front of me, just out of reach. Mocking - always mocking. Daily frustrations, little disappointments, this book, that book, my reactions, the way I wish I had reacted, little offenses, little fears, bigger insecurities; It all plays together and each pulls until I am fragmented. I have so many half thoughts about everything. 


I started Mockingjay last night at 9:30 pm and finished it at 6:30 am this morning. My sleep feels haunted by my half thoughts lately. And becoming absorbed in this book seemed like a better alternative than being tortured by my simultaneous exhaustion and inability to stop obsessing. But I woke up knowing I needed to get things done. Little and necessary things. But I get annoyed so quickly these days when things dont go exactly how I expect they should. And even as my voice begins to contain that edge - I know its unkindness and my own shortcomings that are coming through in these moments. I am weak. I should be better controlled. Speak softly. But my hair runs wild around my face, my eyes are hard and my voice full of unforgiving reprimand. I watch myself from the outside and know that the bank teller trying to give me four quarters instead of forty dollars worth of quarters, has made a tiny slip. She misheard. Logically I know she doesnt deserve the tone of impatience or the cold look, that I see more than feel, sweep across my face. I am a storm brewing beneath the surface. Uncontrolled, unstable. I never have been one for pretending. But I know I need to temper myself. And this new stress that has been added to my life, like none I've ever dealt with before, is having its way with me. I want to stand, rod-straight as it tries to uproot me completely. But instead I fold and bend to its angry will. Interpretive dance for the unwilling. And in turn, I want to lash out. Push away the people that I wish I could pull close. Because I live in my head. And that will always be a life of solitude. And frustration. Always frustrated people dont understand my motives, dont understand my questions, dont understand my needs.


Little thoughts flick across my mind. None of them completely true. None of them completely untrue. I hate people. There is no one to depend on but yourself. Kindness is never as honest as cruelty. I ache to be numb and at the same time struggle with the knowledge that I must stay present.


I know that my errands will lead me in proximity to Barnes and Noble. And I know I will stop and run my fingertips along the covers of many books. So many stories - so much truth and untruth are contained within those pages. I pick up Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen. Its not a terribly long book but I've already taken it home and devoured it. Two books in less than 24 hours. But it has given me more half thoughts. It is a brilliantly thoughtful book. I think it has a lot to say. And a lot to offer. My restless mind, wants to find solace in its pages. But the truth I pull from its pages, are seen through my inept eyes and immediately tainted by my inadequacies and prejudices. 


Katniss, speaks of her realization that the hijacked Peeta finally sees her for who she really is - his hatred opening his eyes in a way that his love always blinded him. I grasp the full sentiment behind a statement such as that. The truth and untruth contained within it. To constantly push the boundaries of your relationships. Testing the breaking point with a scientific urgency. To never trust that when you push, someone will bother to push back. Always knowing that each time it rebounds, the time for it to break ever draws nearer.  Pushing, while all the while wishing you were easier, less contradictory, and less independent. 


Sometimes, things, people, and ideas are more than the sum of their parts. And its a sight of beauty, breathing life into your suffocated lungs, when thats the case. But sometimes they are less. 


And maybe thats what I'm searching for. Some understanding. I re-hash my confusions, it feels like, on a daily basis. But I just want to be able to grasp life. I want more than half a thought. I want the whole thing. To glean from it, every little truth. To hold that close and warm to me, in the cold moments of uncertain turmoil that seem to surround me.