It`s amazing how I sometimes feel like a puppet, withouth any control over my body and mind, a doll which runs on fumes of fears, dreams and feelings. How I actually see those feelings close my eyes, shut down my mind and how I almost see the strings, attached to my hands, feet and body. How I can almost see myself doing things that I would never want to do on my own, how I see myself being pushed around by things from the past, ghosts and banshees, whispering lies and deceit into my ear.
How bad I feel when they finally let go of my mind, when they go back into that dark cave, their laughter echoing in my mind, when the strings break and I fall down, muscles sore from uncontrollable twitching and how I feel like dying when my eyes are finally opened again and I see the damage that “I” did. How lost and how depended I then feel, begging for forgivness, knowing that the phrase “It was not me” carries no real charge but still hoping that the people will see beyond those fits of insanity, those moments when I lose myself in the whirlwind.
How I can find no real reason for the things I do, for the things I say and how that makes me even more desperate and hopeless in tries of solving these things and cutting off the strings. And how I always end hurting people I love and respect the most. The ones that are so close to me that it sometimes scares me just how much do they know about me. And just how much do they affect me.
And how I can only hope.