naked beginnings

welcome, me, to myself. i had a blog. the blog had followers. it seemed nice. only, i forgot somewhere along the way that the followers belonged to the blog. and not to me. egos seem steely and savage, even, when faced with the piquish sensation of external scrutiny. but when subjected to the sudden impact of rejection's brute force? egos shatter. into miniscule shards of seething loneliness. and these shards crumble. into nothingness. the nothingness of me.

and then followers bandy words like 'friend' about. it starts to feel exhilarating. and frightening. 'friend.' that's a threatening word. because it rarely lives up to itself. sort of like santa claus and the tooth fairy. and that god concept. does anyone really know 'friend' ... i mean, really? i wonder, y'know? and so ... the followers encroach. encroach. and it feels good. and it feels hurtful. and it puts me in a box. in a way. as followers seek to define me. label me. judge my moral certitude. while completely ignoring the message embedded in my carefully crafted posts.

ignore. ignore my message. ignore. ignore what i say. and then judge how i say it. ignore. and leave me feeling so desperately, nakedly invisible. ignore my message. and plump droplets of despair crash into my heart. with such a force of anguish. stunning anguish. it travels the circuitry of my bruised heart like some posionous spark. and the spark. its intensity grows as my body absorbs it. swallows it. dissolves it. my spirit feels dirty ... ugly ... infected. stained. in comparison. to yours. i feel. the old stains. mine. rising. to the surface. of my emotions. and, in that radiant shaft of glinting sunlight, i behold. myself. boldly. i behold myself.

myself. alone. alive. aberrant. a blinding helix of inherent instability. breathtaking to behold. noxious to inhale. corrosive to touch. myself. so many times crumpled up and tossed away. now, flinching from touch. refusing to surrender self. to trusting. anything. or anyone. cold to, but longing for, connection. some sort of outside connection. struggling to demystify this deep-seated need to belong. belonging drowns me. traps me. defines me. strangles me. rejects me. belonging rejects me. me - reject.

if i belong then i am vulnerable. if i belong i have surrendered my trust. bared the softest portion of my soul. to such undeserving creatures - homosapiens. i know you smell the weakness there. the blood, which boils and shrinks simultaneously around its lesions and disfiguring bruises. you smell it. you feel it. you taste it, as sheets of my hyperbolic anguish sweep across the battered pages of my soul. i know you. like all the rest. homosapien. just lusting for the blood of another weak soul. my soul. raped. by rejection.

image originally uploaded by melanie photo art