mind on a fine line...

a snapshot here, a snapshot there… all the little film clips your mind plays in an instant to process what goes on in your psyche on a daily basis or at a moment's notice… most of these never come to fruition, most just play like a loop, over and over, either as comfort or torture… a touch… a sound… a scent… all haunts you like a ruthless dream… a dream so cruel as it is exquisite...

the castle in the sky holds the images of a smile meant just for you, a kiss upon the neck in the moonlight, the feel of warm breath across your cheek while in an embrace, a hand up your arm, along your neck, fingers threaded through your hair… your minds’ eye can create the most fantastic imagination fooling every one of your senses into believing you are in a reality so surreal you can taste it when in fact you are merely in the midst of a unreality that leaves you gasping for breath, grabbing at your sheets when you open your eyes and feeling as if someone ripped the rug out from under you, leaving you lonely…

but then, what is worse… the images that taunt and haunt you in your dreams or seeing that one person just out of your reach smiling, talking, walking, pausing to look into the sky for a moment while they close their eyes to enjoy the sun’s warmth…? that one touch when he reaches out for your hand to wish you a good day and covers your hand with the other, enclosing yours in his… when he talks, he speaks to you as if you are the only one there even when the two of you are amongst hundreds in a crowd…

up close, you notice the things that you know will be the details that will slowly and surely drive you nuts but completely fascinate you… the myriad of color flecks that make up the unusual color of his eyes… the length of his eyelashes and how they feather out and shadow across the skin below his eyes… the smooth shape of his lower lip, the small cut in his upper lip giving it the perfect cupid’s bow… the clean-shaven planes of his jaw line and his face… the dark hair upon his head that looks like its soft as puffy clouds on an early spring day with smooth waves like the ripples of a smooth pond after a stone is tossed in… his voice has this tone, this timbre that washes over you like a soothing balm, enveloping you in rich velvet; it makes your skin prickle and can bring tears to your eyes… and then he smiles and it transforms his whole face into something so blindingly beautiful you find it hard to look away and find it harder to keep looking…

there’s a scene in the movie ‘love actually’ where a guy goes to his best friend’s house on christmas and his friend’s wife, the object of his affection or obsession, whichever way you choose to look at it, answers the door… the guy proceeds to play a christmas song along with showing her flashcards declaring his feelings for her… upon completion of this display, he smiles and then gathers his things and leaves… seconds later, she runs after him, catches up to him and kisses him… they smile at each other, some unknown declaration passes between them and they part ways… he walks away and says out loud with a content look upon his face, “enough… enough…”

i have my torturous moments and will surely have them for some time… my conscience and my beliefs will be sure to remind me of the detrimental effects of my thoughts… the thoughts of a black spot upon my soul is frightening as it is heartbreaking… though i will never utter a word of my thoughts aloud, they are spoken loud and clear in the written word and it seems to help me in processing it… the seven sins are there, one waiting to step in, waiting for that in that gives the others the access to my soul…

although i would never make light of anyone with any sort of mental illness or suffers from any sort of disorder of that family and in light of my own anxieties and 'quirks', it makes me wonder if my mind is of that of a fanatic, a schizophrenic, some sort of delusional manic… i have often read that most of the purest minds, intelligent minds and beautiful minds are those that run a fine line between that of sanity and madness… is that what i may be a part of…?  am i slowly slipping into the waiting arms and throes of a psychosis with the obsession of an untouchable guiding my way, making my trip comfortably numb… enough… enough… or will there ever be an “enough”…?