A Stylus Stuck In The Cerebral Cortex, Part III: A Primal Scream From A Beset Bedsit (No No No Yes Yes Yes)

(Click the links for Part 1 and Part 2 of Joseph’s “stimming” saga.)

“Why?” Yoko Ono & The Plastic Ono Band, 31 Listens

 

Hi, my name is Joseph Kyle, and I am currently shut down.

someone entered my solitude space
without my permission
bringing a stranger, no less.
i don’t ask for much
just please stay out of my room.
respect my space
it’s all i have.

everything feels like it is going in fast forward, while i know that everything is actually going in half-time.

unlike many of these attacks, i saw it coming.

 

“No, No, No” – Yoko Ono, 31 listens

 

it feels wrong—and perhaps it is wrong—to gravitate towards a song written out of anger and sadness towards a dead spouse as the focus of my own petty personal problems in relation to a bully, but that’s how my mind works, and i cannot control it. i’ve never and will never feel her pain, and yet her ability to so poignantly express her feelings provides me an outlet too powerful to ignore.

these are the genuine, raw sounds of pain. these are the sounds of confusion. these are the sounds of a world screaming and the singer screaming back in the deepest primal rage.

sometimes i imagine that the world is cardboard and my words are razors, and it makes me afraid. afraid of cutting someone. afraid of offending. afraid of crossing the line,

i think i fired my therapist.

how does one construe a yawn, a rolling-of-eyes, a bored look, a clarification on a very basic point, all while you are pouring your heart out? it was more than i could bear, i sat there thinking i can no longer trust you with my feelings. the mystery curtain fell down. i can’t lift it on my own, and there’s nothing you can do to lift it, either.

god what a sad world, this world of mine.

yoko says what i cannot say, asks the question i cannot ask. the question is why?

suddenly, one little sentence popped into my overflowing, overpowered mind, five simple one syllable words, followed by a question mark:
what is it you want?

that’s a bear of a question.
that’s a bear of a question for the times we live in.

i want love.
i want peace.
i want to wake up knowing that safety and security is real and not tenuous.
i want someone i can read to.
i want quiet.
i want less light and more twilight.
i want January 2, 2016, and to be done with these phony holiday feelings
and the platitudes and pleasantries from people you barely ever see
who never talk to you
or ask after you
who never think about what it means
for someone like you
to being dragged out into the open and
forced into the rigid, painful ritual
of greetings and well-wishes.

my space invader told me that Santa wasn’t real, that my parents bought me all of these things and that I didn’t deserve any of them, because i was a spoiled brat.

i was seven.
he was twenty-one.
it wasn’t the first childhood illusion he shattered
it wouldn’t be the last one, either.

i’m afraid our time is up, we need to stop now.

what makes you think I can just turn it off and pick it back up next week?

desperate times, desperate measures, and so my scorched heart seeks out the only healing sound it knows, a primal scream from the past that sounds like the future.

Stop!

Stop!

STOP!

 

Suddenly, it stops. The chaos fades, the hurricane recedes. Just like that, my brain engine runs out of steam. It becomes calm. Silence shutters everything, and my thoughts go from burning red to sky blue to a gentle eggshell white. I don’t feel good. No, not good. But I don’t feel any worse, either.

I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been in this way, but looking at my iTunes playlist, it’s been a while…

My heart is broken, but my song is not.
My heart is broken, but my song is not.
My heart broken song not.
broken not
heart song

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About Joseph Kyle

Somewhere in Texas. Loves life, love, and Mike Love. Needs a date to the prom. Tries not to write in cliches. Owner of therecoup.com and semi-professional talker to people. View all posts by Joseph Kyle

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