in between there's something else

Still incapable of tying my high hidden hopes to the obvious and clear appearances, I suffocate my intuition with facts and figures.
My imagination works extra-hours, wild with colorful fairytalish sounds, while I judge every detail with cold pessimistic logic.
Able to paint my mask with surgical precision; but when I don't, my face will expose me to the most inexperienced reader.
I will break down right in front of you with no fore-notice or good-enough reason but I will pull myself together when all hell is breaking loose.
I need to know precisely where I stand, count all measurements, make listed plans in order to create and entertain my chaos and comfortable anarchy of mind, word and objects.
Desperately seeking attention, getting the spotlight will only make me blush-and-go-hide.

I find myself continuously running back and forth between the extremes, bewildered sometimes to be at both ends at the same time. Exhausted, I look in between me and I to find a self that's inside-out, upside-down, inverted.