"Pull me out from inside"

"I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding
I am...."

I love how old songs are always new.

I've felt a little fragmented lately. Not as in I personally as a person feel fragmented, no I'm done with that phase, thank god. Just my mood has been. And I haven't been able to put my finger on why.

I drifted in and out of sleep last night, trying to think about what exactly it is I've been (or not been) thinking about, with random Counting Crows lyrics floating in and out ever so appropriately. Somewhere around the end of the cd, i fell asleep for good, and with that went whatever pieces of thoughts I had about what to write here today.

Reconstruction.

I've been thinking about walls. And how they quietly crumble.
And how they don't.

It can be disarming to realize that someone has effortlessly made their way past most of your walls. The ease with which you let them slide through the top and middle layers somehow makes it harder, scarier, to lower the gate to that last, inner most layer. There are places there that no one from the outside has ever found before.
Heavily guarded.
I'm not sure why, it's just always been that way. I'm trying tho. It's the naturalness, the effortlessness, that makes it scary.

"I am folded and unfolded and unfolding..."

Patterns.
It's strange the patterns we grow used to. I'm so used to feeling happy while waiting for the ground to drop out from under me that I don't know what to do with this feeling of non-threatening happiness (addicted to happiness huh melis?) that i feel now.
Feeling comfortable makes me uncomfortable.
I am in no position at all to complain about my childhood. And I'm not about to. But I realized recently that this pattern goes back as far as I can remember - Perfect blissful happiness forever on the brink of destruction. I think in fact the over done perfectness of it was to make up for the underlying instability of the foundation. And as an adult I went on to put myself in situations that would repeat this pattern, but never before in any seriously unhealthy way. It then took a seriously unhealthy and incredibly damaging situation to wake me up. I always wondered if love was too precarious a point to build a lasting foundation on. But I've seen examples to the contrary. Even my own original example is beginning to surprise me and prove me wrong. There really are no absolutes I guess. After spending the last 24 years proving myself right, I’m a little afraid to prove myself wrong.

"Taffy stuck and tounge tied
Stutter shook and uptight…”


I’ve always been internally over dramatic. Over thinking and over analyzing. This is a habit I am still learning to curb. Building layers and veiled meanings when I’m feeling pensively sensitive, as if my life is something written by Albee or O’Neil. I comfortably create cryptic analogies in reality while I struggle with them in my scripts. I need to learn how to reverse this.

This is all far too personal, and had I had therapy this week, it all would have worked itself out there. But instead it’s finding it’s outlet here.


“pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am fine”

“Sometimes I wake up, and I’m falling asleep,
And I think that maybe the curtains are closing on me,
But I wake up,
Yes I wake up,
Smiling.
Sometimes I feel that the chance is surprising,
Surprisingly good to be moving around,
So I wake up,
Yes I wake up,
Smiling.
So what? I feel fine,
I’m ok, I’ve seen the lighter side of life,
I’m alright, I feel good,
So I’ll do, I’ll try to stop moving,
Sometimes I wake up, and I’m falling asleep,
And I’ve got to get going so much that I wanted to do,
Yes I wake up,
Smiling…
...No more keeping my feet on the ground.”