A slowed rush

For no apparent reason what so ever I had the urge to rip out a page of a book and draw on it, skratch out words, silence ts thoughts as if those words were just to loud. I have been having a problem with expressing myself, maybe because I have to do so in German, maybe because I cannot seem to find the right words. But whatever the reason I had this urge to some hoe find some silence. So I grabbed a book that someone had given me but was not at all something I would ever read and tore out a random page. At first I felt guilt, destroying someones words. But still this urge was gnawing at me. I needed silence.

With the torn page in front of me I just stared at it. I was unsure how to proceed. So naturally I took a ruler and drew a line to remove the ragged torn edge. I stopped myself. How limiting. Even when I want to silence, remove, renew, and begin I am still forced but my limiting conditions, reminds or neatness and order. I erased the line. I then picked up a pen And at the corners drew serpant type creautres that wanted to eat the words. Ad then in the middle my renewed yet old self, a butterfly surrounded by circles and darkness.

I did not however silence all the words. I could not do that to the person who wrote them. But instead I merely hushed their loudness around me.

The funny thing is that the whole time I was doing this I felt this sensation of trying to hurry myself yet doing them slowly, anxious but at the same time calm...This is the second time I feel this contradicting within me, as if I were two within one, or just that is about to split into many.

Either way....