Abstraction

You realise the best way to be alive is to feel...something, anything. So you try to savour each and every little emotion in all its hues, both tints and shades, turned on to maximum. But somewhere down the line, even too much colour overwhelms, and there’s nothing you’d like more than to settle for some monochrome. For a while, at least.

But there are times when your brain refuses to read colour, even the dull monochrome. Sometimes, there’s this random, snow-like static that pervades your mind and possesses you in an undefined restlessness. It seeps into your day and takes the attention away from everything you do. It’s a feeling that you can’t quite peg down, but it’s there...following you around and hollowing you from within. And no amount of work, or routine, can quite distract your mind from it.

So you carry on doing what you usually do, hoping it’s a phase that will run itself out. And most often, it does. But sometimes, in those rare instances, it doesn’t. And when it stretches out longer than you’d expect, you know, with sudden, alarming clarity, that what you’re going through is some sort of withdrawal. That the addiction that gave birth to it, has consumed your spirit in brilliant, blazing orange and gold, and left behind grey, scattered ash and dust.

And that even in the midst of possible ruin, you’d do anything to hold on to this bleached, illusive dependence. 

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"The memories are shadows, ink on the page." 
Five Finger Death Punch with Far from Home