Wednesday, July 1, 2009
the silent scream
So what is it, exactly, this frustration building within me? What is the mystery of emotion, that we can feel things so intensely that we are unable to define or adequately describe? The ebb and flow, at times receding and then the sudden wave that crashes and fills me until I feel I must surely burst. Sometimes it seems that I can only express myself through the words of others, and even then not to those it matters. It's a feeling akin to having your tongue cut out, suddenly becoming mute and possessing no knowledge of sign language. Like the dreams where you shout out but no sound is heard, the dreams where I try to raise my head but lay paralyzed. What is it even that I should want to say if I had the voice, and to what end? What is it that I want? Do I really want the things I think I desire? Do I really know, or do I merely cling stubbornly to my notions of what I think is the goal, all the more persistent for the elusiveness of the quest?