I am inherently dysregulated. It seems to be hard-coded into me in the branching of my neurons in the gyri and sulci in the synapse-space between will and muscle. On these days I am a prisoner in a prison of my own making, my unwilling unnurtured body and my brain holding me keeping me from thinking from acting from doing. My thoughts are in circles or arcs always starting restarting derailing never getting anywhere. I watch myself my cloudy thoughts my shaking hands my cotton mouth. I don’t feel sad I don’t feel angry I don’t feel scared I do feel frustrated I do feel angry I do feel sad my feeling feeling feeling wrapped in soft quilt batting that blurs the edges so that what lies beneath is not recognized. This is a pattern this happened before will happen again what is happening now. I see it coming I watch it happen like a scene in a bad drama where you know the hero is making a mistake but you cannot do anything about it because they are not real, or maybe because you aren’t. One of the two planes does not align with reality. But again I move in circles and arcs. You see it coming like someone else's bad decision stripped of context and yet by the time you see it coming it is too late. My will is the first thing to go, for if it remained I could make myself eat, make myself do, fix this make it unhappen before it is born. Abort. Stop the curdled life that will be this day. It has only been eleven hours. It has been an eternity. I write without page breaks without paragraph breaks because on the phone that requires switching keyboards and I am so frayed so distractible. I want this words I write to look how I think as I write them and my new lines are all gone all gone see you later crocodile all new lines are gone.
Zippy Spanjer