Friday, April 24, 2015


My brain doesn't work like yours.
It whirrs, and sputters, and smoke billows out.
My brain doesn't work like yours.
I find the words can't come out when I need them too.
I rationalize to the point of no longer having a valid reason.
I discover constantly that my initial thoughts are never my final ones.
I put myself in scenarios I will most likely never have to live in.
I make myself suffer at the hands of my thoughts and what it could do to someone else.
I am strong enough to suffer.
I can handle anything.
Every day of this life I live with a brain that doesn't work like every other human brain.
Maybe it explains my inability to love or my clearly defective relationship skills. 
I get to love from afar. I get to love and never truly be loved, or touched, or caressed in the ways I need every day.  Instead I climb inside my brain and pretend it is all there waiting for me; the kisses, the love, the home.
It's not.
It's not real.
It's not really there.

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