Emotional Brick

From my perch against the wall on my bed, I see the clock. The clock is asleep. Against the white background, the numbers and lines almost impose themselves into my view, watching. Each second, the long black line matches up with one of the short lines, and my memory of the movement from what was to what is chains my gaze and slowly turns my insides. Yet I notice the light reflected in the convex transparent plastic that shields the numbers from escape. The lamp on the ceiling, there, it glows, and you can see a halo around the light bulb's light.

Meaninglessness? Take your vegetable from the pile and carry it around with you. You may like to eat it, but maybe not. I've got this emotional brick heaved upon my chest. I don't quite know how to remove it. Its chemical make-up is not something I learned about when I did science in high school, so I'm trying to make up for that now. The sentiment is round, with uncertain borders. Those blurred distinctions between the emotion and the beyond makes me feel like somehow I am connected past my body. What does it feel like, you may ask? Hold your chosen vegetable in hand while you read below.

Palms, hands, of a person you love are pressed on top of each other, on top of your chest. CPR? Seems like it at first by the initial pressure, but this misperception is quickly dispelled as you realise the hands are not coming back up. Held down they slowly are crushing the field of my body. Pulses, from lighter to stronger back to lighter then the dial turns back on stronger and it's jammed. Why? Why do they want to cut your breath? What is it that they want from you? Will your death solve any problem in their life? The questions come but aren't verbalised when you realise that it shall not be a quick kill. I never wanted it to be a death in the first place, just idyllic heroism. It seems that tape I recorded for myself is bringing itself into the world in the form of emotional pressure - since it never took a tangible form. The energy has to go somewhere, and this is where - in the hands of the one you tried to save, trying to save you, because you want them to care so much for you that the emotional brick presses harder the more you think about it. Such weight, and only from a desire to be wanted. In my idealised dream-like scenario, I save the person, I am the hero, and they are grateful. But I am not, it is not enough, so I have to rewind and re-record what happens again, to add a touch of drama, a tinge of emotion, a hue of magic here and there and whatever song I painted can be displayed on my headboard. A failed wish. It's not satisfying, the fake, the illusory. The reality of it cannot exist, but I would have liked it to. Consciously, I do not wish it real, and I know I could not. Unconsciously, I dream and the tape repeats, each time slightly altered but the same heroic features are present. It's draining to believe something is real when it is not. The result of my fantasy, my fiction? This emotional brick, appearing lovingly human, is in fact nothing but an illusion created by me to satisfy an unexpressed-until-recently desire. Connection, love... Dreams do not become reality - something unreal may not become real, for they are of different Orders of Reality - of which only one actually is real. Reality becomes reality. If I can dream it up, reality responds with the feelings. Created to address the unreal, the energy is built and not expelled because it is unfulfilled. Those hands pressing down on my chest, then, are pushing down only because I refuse to let go of the dream, to let them dissipate and be fulfilled. I take a breath now.

It's scary, you know. It makes you feel trapped, violated, in need. In need of saving, specifically, by the bearer of those hands. Fantasy is dramatic - it pretends to know reality after all, but there is no drama in reality because there is but truth. They cannot coexist. Nothing cannot fit into all. Until we learn that, the bricks keep on pressing onto our souls, squeezing us into giving up believing into what is unreal. When we do let go, there will never have been a brick.

How do you like that carrot now? You may eat the potato now in case you haven't already started - it is cooked well, fret not about that.

How do I let go? Theoretically I can hold on until I cannot survive the pain any longer, but there is a much simpler method. Align yourself with God. Therein is your answer.