All entries for June 2005

June 11, 2005

On Vanity

Fearometer: 2 – now there's time to worry about life, love and the universe- phew

A big part of this particular breed of fear you cultivate is vanity. You don't do the work because no eartly incarnation could possibly do justice to your brilliance. Your levels of self aggrandisement are gargantuan, so much so that like a house of cards, they crumble by virtue of their unbearable size. And so what started as self-adoration in its infancy turns to hatred. The most passionate love affair of your life is also the rockiest.

The pinnacle before the lows aren't being well, they are inextricably linked to the crash. As you can't possibly live up to the cherished portrait you hold of yourslelf, you hold yourself to ransom in fits of impotent rage, to show the world that you hold the power to destroy this unsatisfactory imposter. The only problem is the story of self hatred sounds so sweet and safe once you hear it fullly that you believe it. After all this voice doesn't ask anything of you, so you banish hateful vanity which drove you to live.

This kidnapping starts by a few throwaway self deprecating remarks, which impel contradictions from others at first, until they become reckless, worrying, and others fade from view and you are left alone. The chase ends in a back street when you're confronted by a cracked self in a mirror,unrecognisable.

So you claw things back. And come to realise that maybe the vanity of the past didnt deserve such disdain. It drove you on. And tempered and caged it must remain.

June 01, 2005


Fearometer: 5

One of the most overwhelming things is happiness. A smile seems untenable, manic, like it could so easily stretch into a scream. Happiness is torture, ecstatic suffocation. Revision is somewhat difficult. The fear begs you to ask even if you grasped something as fully as possible, 'what now?'. You fear the pressure you would have to be pleased at success. Achievements are twisted to ring hollow and sonorous. You are guided through familiar thought patterns in a mind demarcated by electric wire which causes pain to transgress. So you sit, and time swirls around and beyond you.

But you weather the nausea of anxiety and walk into the buzzing strip-lit room with whatever could be retained in two hours' desperate revision. Revision, like packing an old suit case, with ideas falling by the wayside as you try to recall them. And two hourse elapses. Somehow something is scrawled on the page. A little suprised, you are channeled out between the rows of desks. There were times when to think of this moment was to tempt fate, maybe it always will be.

Granted a reprieve, you sit lulled and in love with the moment, the night. The fear is an unpredictable master. Thoughts flash like the moment crystalline slides are coloured with dye. Sometimes you remember these cease to fire and the only thing able to cleave the dulness is looking blankly at the poppy coloured spores, billowing like smoke under the cool water of your sink.

Just before the surrender of sleep under unclenched brow, perfect comfort and enclosure. You slip into unconsciousness, as unseeing eyes dart back and forth under heavy lids.

June 2005

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