Sigh... -.- Oh how I wish...
Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2011 6:25 pm
I wish my body was detachable. It would make life so much easier to deal with…
If this was humanly possible, I think I would first start off with my head. Perhaps with a click of a button, I could be scientifically engineered to have the top of my skull snap off, resulting to an easy access of the brain. Pulling it out slowly while disconnecting the cables and cords, I’d take it into my hands while diagnosing the damage bestowed. The verdict would be worse than I had imagined, being one big cluster f*** of confusion, frustration, and quite simply negative energy. Placing it gently on a plate while wiping the slime off of my fingers, I’d take a deep breath before preforming some black market, back door psychological surgery.
Turning it upside down, I’d start to shake it frantically with no hesitation, trying to unleash some of the debris that’s stuck to the surface alone: grief, rejection, anxiety, and emptiness. Once the majority was off and onto the floor, the time would come for the more detailed, painful work. Setting it back down on the plate, I would pull out the tweezers for the engagement. Wincing and shuddering, prying and pulling the deep shards swallowed by my mind, I’d gag at waste being brought up that was buried deep inside of my psyche. After all foreign obstructers were discharged and set out for destroy, I’d grab the bottle of alcohol and rinse off the remaining infections. And maybe then, once my head was clean and pure, I wouldn’t be boggled down with such worry, devastation, or anguish. But until that day comes, my only option is to keep my head above this dark water surrounding me, waiting for the day to finally reach the shore…
If this was humanly possible, I think I would first start off with my head. Perhaps with a click of a button, I could be scientifically engineered to have the top of my skull snap off, resulting to an easy access of the brain. Pulling it out slowly while disconnecting the cables and cords, I’d take it into my hands while diagnosing the damage bestowed. The verdict would be worse than I had imagined, being one big cluster f*** of confusion, frustration, and quite simply negative energy. Placing it gently on a plate while wiping the slime off of my fingers, I’d take a deep breath before preforming some black market, back door psychological surgery.
Turning it upside down, I’d start to shake it frantically with no hesitation, trying to unleash some of the debris that’s stuck to the surface alone: grief, rejection, anxiety, and emptiness. Once the majority was off and onto the floor, the time would come for the more detailed, painful work. Setting it back down on the plate, I would pull out the tweezers for the engagement. Wincing and shuddering, prying and pulling the deep shards swallowed by my mind, I’d gag at waste being brought up that was buried deep inside of my psyche. After all foreign obstructers were discharged and set out for destroy, I’d grab the bottle of alcohol and rinse off the remaining infections. And maybe then, once my head was clean and pure, I wouldn’t be boggled down with such worry, devastation, or anguish. But until that day comes, my only option is to keep my head above this dark water surrounding me, waiting for the day to finally reach the shore…