I'm just lost in the moment.

The end of a melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.

— Friedrich Nietzche.

————————

Ich denke, ich denke zu viel an dich.

————

A moment of hysteria envelopes the scene. Voices erupt from the four walls of the room as distressed pleas for help is reduced to falling down onto the tear-stained rug on all fours. Any form of pride diminishes. Feeble stammers that is inconsistent with an audible banging of the head again the wall does not seem to chase the commotion away. Mania is an overstatement, but the panic makes the overwhelming anxiety almost barren of the barely-existing glimpse of hope. Miracles turn into a perception of intoxicated enchantment that once existed prior to the sudden engulfing delirium. Surrounding the terrified mind, the overlapping noises seem to simmer away for a bit before gushing right back into an overlay of madness. The word is too strong; madness is not to be used lightly in such an intense situation. Distractions are all that is needed. Placing the focus onto a small plant sitting at the corner of the room, appreciation of its presence brings out the blooming colours of the flower petals that go unnoticed. Illuminating with beauty, the lonesome plant takes the stage by dampening the surrounding and lets everything else fade into the background. It becomes silent for a bit. Heavy-hearted with an uncomfortable containment of feelings, the redirection of attention towards the flower began to shine a light on its purposeful life as a plant. Perhaps it is not the colours of the flowers that makes it enviably vibrant. Perhaps it is the choice of action itself to notice the plant that silent sits on the sideline alone without making a sound. Into deep slumber, the naive one gives the plant a pat on one of its leaves. It's enough for the day; reinforced with some struggle within this self-convincing, one day—perhaps some day soon—it will all come to a full circle and sleep will become easier than it already does. It doesn't taking a psychosis to realise the existence of psychopathology.




————




"In doing so, the idea forces itself itself upon him that religion is comparable to childhood neurosis, and he is optimistic enough to suppose that mankind will surmount this neurotic phrase, just as so many children grow out of their similar neurosis."

— Sigmund Freud.




————



Just a spark waiting to be ignited.
Just a time bomb waiting patiently.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Boom.




————

Ich denke, ich denke zu viel von dir.

————————

M.

I've been zoning.
You know that I could get you more, a little more.
Whatever you need, what you need.
I could get you more, a little more.
Whatever you need.