birdies, bouncy balls, and waters deep

i’ve written and erased words twenty times in the last day, even in my head, i dismiss them away. i feel completely nonsensical. my thoughts are harried little birds in my head that keep colliding and twittering and even they aren’t sure what they mean. so i try to write things and the quiet part of me that is patient and watches always reminds me that i am not scattered, and i would not keep a record of such ramblings. i don’t like my emotions to taint what i present to the world. they are released with care and precision. if i determine they have become too strong and will overwhelm me, then i shut down outer workings to go inside and force them to behave.
i once told one of my literature classes that my thoughts are like bouncy balls and if one is drawn out and dropped for inspection then i must pay it heed, and sometimes they bounce really fast or ricochet around my head and when i’m really passionate, my only choice is to let them out because it’s a lot to ask to keep all that energy bound up inside. i’ll see how they respond to the open air. this metaphor is my excuse for rambling and talking too much and not always making sense. you try to control a horde of bouncy balls.
i’m not really sure when the bouncy balls turned into frenzied little song birds. i suppose i haven’t been letting the bouncy balls out which has lead to friction and inertia in my head. i have found that just a few drops of emotion explodes when added to all that chemistry. this failed and unintentional experiment may explain my b in chemistry which in my opinion should have been an a since it was a ger, but i am not naturally good at science only naturally curious. explanations for said explosion aside, i am not okay with exploding even though my explosions are quiet like volcanoes underneath the ocean. i am fully afraid they might create a tsunami somewhere else.
recently i have decided that i am very much like a body of water which must be why i have dark blue eyes instead of light pretty ones like my friend daniel or the high school girl, i’ll see today named jordan. they have bright, light-filled eyes, and daniel’s emotions spill all over the place which he doesn’t mind, and jordan practically bubbles and is the friendliest straight-shooter i’ve ever met. but i am like an old creek out in the woods somewhere that is deep in places and makes plenty of gurgles and a little song and is filled with all kinds of interesting rocks, some are sharp and some have been smoothed. i don’t get a lot of light because the trees are old and shady and like my eyes, you must look close to see the gold-white playing in all the blue. the water moves slow and rarely gushes until there is a move in the earth and as a creek who is quite set in her ways i do not like such change. i like to keep my waters all in place and whisper the wise things below the water’s noise. i guess being a creek out in the woods somewhere sounds lonely if not peaceful. well it can be.
these metaphors usually help me make sense of myself, but when the waters explode i either start drowning or get these blasted birdies. i suppose the best thing to do is to let them go. but i’d really rather calm them down. i’m a very unhappy little creek today.


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