Illusions

See the animal in his cage that you built,
Are you sure what side you're on?
Better not look him too closely in the eye,
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?
See the safety of the life you have built,
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart,
And it's all... right where it belongs

What if everything around you,
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know,
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection,
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks,
Would you find yourself... find yourself afraid to see?

What if all the world's inside of your head?
Just creations of your own
Your devils and your gods all the living and the dead
And you're really all alone
You can live in this illusion,
You can choose to believe.
You keep looking but you can't find the woods,
While you're hiding in the trees

What if everything around you,
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you used to know,
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection,
Is that all you want to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks,
Would you find yourself... find yourself afraid to see?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I couldn't listen to this song last week without bawling my eyes out. "INFJ's seek the melancholy." Why is this true? Why do I want to dig and find whatever sadness is lurking in my subconscious? I can't imagine what I would be like if I was some other INFJ. I at least have something from the past to focus on. Waking up in the middle of the night scared to death, crying at the sound of TK's breathing. I'm starting to think that maybe no matter what happens I'll never understand these things as long as I'm here. At least not as much as I want to. But maybe I can understand as much as I need to..."keep an open mind."

I had an odd dream last night. Most of it was inspired by watching too much X-Files. What struck me as odd was running around telling all the inhabitants of my dream that I was pregnant. That too was X-Files inspired, but it's just lingering with me today. (As is talking to two young shirtless David Duchovny twins with deep scars/incisions all over their chests like they were golems or something *shudder*)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[9:49am] I feel terribly compelled to write...but I don't know what about...maybe I need to take some time and just ramble...? Sometimes I feel like I'm on the brink of spilling a lifetime's worth of memories onto a page, but when I look to it, it's gone. (I always feel the need to do this while I'm at work, early in the day, rarely when I'm at home.) Guess I try too hard?