Little punctuation

I hate that conflict of mind when I'm restless and know that nothing appeases me and yet there is nothing to bring me down except the bruises from last year of which I cannot rid myself and insist on pressing to check they are still there so they flower pale yellow/violet just above my stomach. If I could take away the words that go round my memory perhaps it would just disappear but part of me and my character has been moulded by the syllables and passing comments that only I kept and that no one except me will replay like a broken record at night when all I can see is the green glow of digital numbers haloing my pillow and blurring out as I squeeze my eyes shut. I revel in feeling broken, I like the chips in my mind and the thought that only I was a battlefield inside while the calmness outside was reflected in the building of white shelves and scrubbing of paint from the studio floor. Scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing and my mind was bigger than I was and that was all I could see and I remember waiting for hours for nothing because all I was had been emptied slowly. I wrote paragraphs and speeches and rebukes and free-translated them into Spanish and back again and posted and reposted to try to understand how someone who could appreciate the folds of an ear and bring me dandelions and realise the layers in an old photograph and how it is more beautiful with a bent corner could do all these things and yet tell me we were too different. Even as I realised the truth of this and saw how that mind was split into the person who loved Japan like me and listened to lyrics like me and heard music in typewriters like me, and the person who was numb to my feelings and dismissed the significance I attached to first events, I couldn't stop being choked by the knowledge of someone before me and someone after me and me in the middle as insignificant and meaningless and someone forgotten. So - the feelings have gone, honestly, but the past has happened and I still view the present through it and this is useless.