Damaged Circuitry

It may or may not be apparent that I describe much of myself in technological terms. Growing up around computers and electronics made it easier to identify with machines over humanity. I think, tonight, I will continue the pattern.

To visualize my emotional construct, first imagine a circuit board. Now imagine taking that circuit board and firing a few bullets though it. Then douse the board in an acidic solution. The end result will be cracked, broken, full of holes, and warped. That is an accurate description of my emotions. Somehow they still function, but the connections are random and nonsensical. I suppose a few examples are in order.

I just completed an episode of a random, stupid television show. The plot was dumb and the acting pathetic. However, during the episode I saw a woman smile. The way the little wrinkles formed around her mouth reminded me of someone. Immediately I wished I could cry. Sadly, that section of my emotional circuit board was hit by a bullet. It has been a long time since I could cry.

Other times electrical jolts fire through me. Some people think I am simply itching, or trying to pop a vertebrae. Unfortunately, the cause is not skeletal or dermatological. Sometimes I get a... feeling or thought that is so bloody intense that I twitch from the pain. It's like being hit by lightning, only it happens several times a day. A short in my circuits throwing amps into incorrect places.

Any positive emotion has been obliterated. Maybe obliteration is not the correct term. Through the years they have atrophied to the point of uselessness. So now I must suffer through my days and nights without feeling anything but negative and painful emotions. But... it is to be expected given the damaged nature of my emotions.

I suppose this post has no point. I'm just venting because it is night, and as always I am alone and depressed.

Fury

"Rage. Rage against the dying of the light."

Over the physically and emotionally painful years I have lost much of my emotional capacity. Happiness has been mutilated, sadness has been numbed into oblivion, and fear has been ripped to shreds. Anger. Anger has not been reduced in any capacity. In fact, it is more intense now.

The similarity between fury and fire is obvious. They both burn and consume and expand when given any fuel. Both can keep you warm in the cold times or burn you if you let it get out of control. Out of the two, fury is the worst. Anger is terribly difficult to stamp out. The more you try, the more it fights back. Through time the madness seems to spontaneously ignite itself. It becomes uncontrollable and dangerous to anyone around you, including yourself. The emotion can consume you whole. I struggle daily against my final, furious emotion. But instead of trying to extinguish the flames I try to force it into a fuel source.

I use the rage to keep me going. When depression hits me like an avalanche I push back with the full force of my fury. So far the technique has served me well. Every day is treated like a combat scenario and the rage keeps me powering through it all. As you can imagine, this technique is not without its drawbacks.

Like a boiler used to keep a building war, fury requires a constant fuel source. The more you feed it, the harder it becomes to let it subside. Soon you realize that the power you rely upon is eating you alive and leaving nothing but ash. You are a man on fire. A man of fire.

I was this man of flame for a long time. Maybe that has not changed. Lately, though, either the forces around me have become too strong or my furious fuel has been dwindling. And... I think I'm alright with that. Enough of me has been exhausted from the internal blaze.

The light died long ago. Time to stop raging against it and find a new fuel source.