Cohesion

So, how cohesive is it to use one blog to post entries about makeup and then take a 180 turn and post about the emotions of a day to day life, of a poetic piece expressing the comings and goings of the things passing by my sight each second of every day.  Does it change the person, the followers, the potential? Does it change anything at all? Does it even matter one way or another.

The change of emotions is faster than the change of the weather on an average day in North Dakota. Heater in the morning, A/C in the afternoon, back to heater in the evening. Happy in the morning, frustrated in the afternoon, exhausted and confused in the evening. Just to start it all over again the next day and wonder if you should have made the change yesterday. If there was even a change to be made and since you haven't made it yet if you should make it today. And if you don't today will tomorrow be another opportunity?

Is the constant rattle of the keys under my fingertips simply a comfort in the fact that I know I'm not "alone"? That the computer screen in front of me is keeping me company. A blazing flame in the middle of the night that keeps me hoping, wanting and craving. Keeps me from losing my mind to the numbness of the shadows.  Or is it simply something to hide my mind from the goings on to avoid facing myself. To avoid looking in the mirror and seeing the woman I don't care to see anymore. Is change really necessary, or simply a change of mind? A change of heart? Is the sound just a comfort to pretend things are they way they used to be when my life revolved around the computer and only the computer. Living half my life in the cyber world where no one had to see me and I didn't have to see them and it was only words and emotions didn't have to come into play if I didn't want them to.

I remember the nights of never sleeping because the computer would be my best friend until the early dawn peeked over the hills to say hello to another day I didn't want to face. I would have loved to have stayed cooped up in the house for weeks so long as the food didn't run out and I didn't have to leave the computer for too long. And now I can't get enough of getting out of the house. Doing...practically anything. In front of the computer I at least kept myself. There's was never anything that wasn't myself. But out there, out in the world of extreme noise or deadening silence, there's too much surroundings to feel like I'm really being truly and fully myself instead of putting on a pretty facade to make the people around me happy. In doing so I've forgotten if I'm only making them happy, or if it makes me happy as well. Or half and half. But what to do to make myself fully happy again has eluded me.  It feels as though every time I sit down to write I'm at a loss. Writing is what used to make me free. Uncage me and set me loose through the paper and ink where nothing could confine me because I knew it was only me and no one else and that never had to change.

And now the "real world" has battered down my door and forced me to look at myself and make a choice. No matter what the choice is it has to be made and it has to be done now. There's no more time. Time is a thing that slips through my fingers no matter how tightly held together they are.

An no one will ever know because that's how I like it and that's the way I want it to stay. I've spilled my emotions to the ground too many times to merely have them stomped on and left to rot to ever do so again. And so my passions remains deep inside, tucked away in a safe little box that only I have the key to. The light may grace them from time to time but we have learned. We know better now.

So the music may pound and drown out all conscious thoughts so I may lose myself to the nothingness, but the music will fade, because nothing lasts forever. We all know that.