that which is not known

I look at your name and freeze; that you don't know it makes no difference, I freeze all the same. In this frame in my life where nothing moves and everything is a malleable but constant force, where I have control over anything and everything but don't quite need it, where in my own little way, I am the god; you would think that the inherent peace in this place would be more far-reaching than you. Apparently not, though, because that image of your name is burned deep into my mind as my fingers stop moving; knowing that you don't know makes it easier to manage, but not by much; or it really doesn't and I'm fooling myself, that perhaps it's not easier but harder, but for the lack of available data processing in my head, that cannot hit me in the way that it should. And perhaps it's the day where I should choose to tell you or let it go, but even that I cannot muster in myself, because every time I see your name, it elicits the same response, that I cannot do either.

What, then, is it about you that even your name gets to me, that which is awesome and scary at the same time, which makes me feel alive, but not in a good way, because to die, you must know that you once had life, for that which you do not have cannot be taken away, even if it is just thought because not every man knows that he is alive and not every man thereafter knows that he has died; and that to the extent of that, there exists a part of me that wants to say something but cannot because it makes no sense, and while everything has a positive intention, I cannot quite find that in the moment of telling you, so I don't, but really, why, then, do I keep thinking about it, finding the excuses that are not there, and ultimately just being a complete and utter fuckup?

Perhaps, today, I will make my choice and stick to it, because I can hold this moment for so much longer - the meaning of which takes precedence way more than it should, that this hurt should be my pleasure, that hope is there though ever in the slightest that I should hold onto it dearly - but it's really not worth it and I know that, because for as long as I am an idiot trapped in my own trap, stuck in my own warped mind that has failed to see that it has far passed its boundaries that it has no idea were ever there, that it will continue to rot away to a state that it can live within rather than simultaneously combusting to reveal a new thing not entirely familiar to me.