Reflecting this upon my own life. I'm diagnosed with conversion-disorder due to ignoring and blocking emotions wich caused my life to implode.
Where are we?
What the hell is going on?
The feeling of losing yourself to your own mind, the confusion.
The dust has only just begun to form
Crop circles in the carpet
It's the start of a long process, the crop circles represent the unusual new patterns in my behavior and thoughts. It is just the beginning.
Sinking, feeling
Spin me around again
And rub my eyes
This can't be happening
Can someone tell me what is going on? I have no understanding of myself anymore, how do I continue?
When busy streets
A mess with people
Would stop to hold their heads heavy
The rest of the people in my life continue with their busy lifes. While I can only see the chaos inside my head.
Hide and seek
Trains and sewing machines
Hide and seek, the game of searching. I've used quite some drugs. Trying to spot that train that'll guide me to another realisation, something that I can't find on my own. Also am I looking for the sewing machines, something that will just alow me to just do something to get trough a moment, to let me saw trough that chaotic unstable construction and start again.
All those years
They were here first
All my life I have felt all of my emotions, they were here first, all those years.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before
Now where I've lost my capability of feeling there'll appear an oily mark. Something that I can see from far away. Something ugly that shouldn't be there.
The takeover
The sweeping insensitivity of this
I've been conquered and taken over by my own mind. In this process I've been sweeped over, not being able to feel my emotion, I've become insensitive.
Still life
Hide and seek
Trains and sewing machines
My life continues, however.
(You won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears
They were here first
Mm, what'd you say?
Mm, that you only meant well
Well of course you did
Mm, what'd you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best
Of course it is
Mm, what'd you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need
You decided this
Mm, what'd you say?
Mm, what did she say?
I've explained most of the things above. The blood and tears also represent my emotions. Now there are alot of people, desperatly trying to help me. Everyone has their own idea of my process. This also calls upon the busy streets with the many opinions of people, the mess inside my head.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cutouts
Speak no feeling, no, I don't believe you
You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cutouts
Speak no feeling, no, I don't believe you
You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit
This is something that someone very dear to me would've said. This is the intrepretation of my highly sensitive ex-girlfriend. She can't understant my chaos. All she can see is that I don't care about myself, that I can't explain to her why I'm using these drugs, wich I cannot explain to someone else who's never been in a position like me.
(You don't care a bit)
Oh, no, you don't care a bit
Oh, no, you don't care a bit
Uh-uh, you don't care a bit
You don't care a bit
You don't care a bit
As if it has been quoted out of her head after every conversation I'm having and will have with her.
Reflecting this upon my own life. I'm diagnosed with conversion-disorder due to ignoring and blocking emotions wich caused my life to implode.
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The feeling of losing yourself to your own mind, the confusion.
The dust has only just begun to form Crop circles in the carpet
It's the start of a long process, the crop circles represent the unusual new patterns in my behavior and thoughts. It is just the beginning.
Sinking, feeling Spin me around again And rub my eyes This can't be happening
Can someone tell me what is going on? I have no understanding of myself anymore, how do I continue?
When busy streets A mess with people Would stop to hold their heads heavy
The rest of the people in my life continue with their busy lifes. While I can only see the chaos inside my head.
Hide and seek Trains and sewing machines
Hide and seek, the game of searching. I've used quite some drugs. Trying to spot that train that'll guide me to another realisation, something that I can't find on my own. Also am I looking for the sewing machines, something that will just alow me to just do something to get trough a moment, to let me saw trough that chaotic unstable construction and start again.
All those years They were here first
All my life I have felt all of my emotions, they were here first, all those years.
Oily marks appear on walls Where pleasure moments hung before
Now where I've lost my capability of feeling there'll appear an oily mark. Something that I can see from far away. Something ugly that shouldn't be there.
The takeover The sweeping insensitivity of this
I've been conquered and taken over by my own mind. In this process I've been sweeped over, not being able to feel my emotion, I've become insensitive.
Still life Hide and seek Trains and sewing machines
My life continues, however.
(You won't catch me around here) Blood and tears They were here first Mm, what'd you say? Mm, that you only meant well Well of course you did Mm, what'd you say? Mm, that it's all for the best Of course it is Mm, what'd you say? Mm, that it's just what we need You decided this Mm, what'd you say? Mm, what did she say?
I've explained most of the things above. The blood and tears also represent my emotions. Now there are alot of people, desperatly trying to help me. Everyone has their own idea of my process. This also calls upon the busy streets with the many opinions of people, the mess inside my head.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cutouts Speak no feeling, no, I don't believe you You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cutouts Speak no feeling, no, I don't believe you You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit
This is something that someone very dear to me would've said. This is the intrepretation of my highly sensitive ex-girlfriend. She can't understant my chaos. All she can see is that I don't care about myself, that I can't explain to her why I'm using these drugs, wich I cannot explain to someone else who's never been in a position like me.
(You don't care a bit) Oh, no, you don't care a bit Oh, no, you don't care a bit Uh-uh, you don't care a bit You don't care a bit You don't care a bit
As if it has been quoted out of her head after every conversation I'm having and will have with her.