Running for Sanity

Sometimes I wish I were a little kid, where I do not have to think of anything - except for what mum's gonna cook today.. Which was always my favourite dish.

Sometimes I just want a time off from everything, I just want to be that little girl I once was, sitting on my mother's lap and feel her stroking my head gently. That was the only time I ever feel safe, a haven for all of my insecurities.

Argghh!! My sanity is failing me!!

All I can do now to take the load off my head is to run, and never stop running till all my energy runs out of me. It has been that way ever since I was in college, I need to run everytime I feel tense or am about to go crazy. That's all I need, to be sane again..

I don't know why I find it hard to express it, maybe I am not used to let my guard down, and let someone knows my weaknesses and my worries. I know I should be grateful and thankful to have someone to share my feelings with, but please give me time..I will somehow..just give me some time..and don't give up on me..

Here is a part of a poem by Charles C. Finn - Please Hear What I'm Not Saying . I find that the extracted poem below explains pretty much on how and what I feel..

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only hope and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.

But, I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I am afraid to.
I am afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh,
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good,
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I am going through my routine,
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.