dream sleep hope

damn unsustainable anger. maybe i just need to eat. gives way to sadness, sorrow, melancholy. where art thou, dearest heart of my heart, soul of my soul? gone away across the land, worse than water, harder to traverse, takes more effort. i can't not love you and i can't forgive you. limbo-like sorrow. neither saved nor damned, eternity in unformed grey nothingness. worse or better only the one above knows.

everything is going worn at the edges. soon, it will start to shred and crumble, then topple from a great height, smashing onto the sharp rocks below, and they will come with their dinghies and their handcarts and their ropes and salvage anything that is usable and the rest will go to the ocean and will be dissolved into nothingness, to be again reused for those who come after.

not so comforting right now, though.

keep it secret

i'm tired and angry and hurt and lather, rinse, repeat.

i want to spew bile and vitriol and anger and hurt and disgorge everything inside me, to hurl it at her head, to scream and shout and cry and be mean and hurt her and tell her what she's done to me.

but i don't want to because i love her dearly and want her to keep that piece of my soul, to have it and hold it and keep it safe.

but she hasn't, or doesn't know what she has, and carelessness and ignorance hurt just as much as twisting the knife on purpose. a knife in the gut is a knife whether you know it's there or not.

i want to scream and shake and yell and say how she's mine, never mind i can never give her what she wants and needs.

except i want to be enough.

it's not too much to ask, being enough. to be sufficient, to be fulfilling, to satisfy with your existence. she did for me.

except that's a lie, if her existence were enough, then there would be no knife. i want her attention, her love, her affection, her hands in my hair, her voice on my phone, her in my life. and someone else is taking her away from me and i'm having a difficult time forgiving that.

it has been said that love is not a zero-sum game, that love shared is love increased, finding love for a new person does not decrease the love a person has already given to anyone. and that may be true, but there are only so many hours in the day, so many ticks of the clock, and when you change the allocation of ticks from one person to another, then love does become a zero sum game, and the old gets shafted by the new and then you have ridiculous emo diary entries about the woe of life. you have someone who has suddenly and desperately wanted their yearly cry so as to loosen the choking sensation some where around their neck. something to make the wrists stop hurting and the palms stop tingling and the fingers rest easy. something to ease the brain down, something to get the hamster off the wheel, something to turn the switch from on to off, to rest easy.

i am not the better person, but i am good enough to keep my mouth shut.

wear scarves on your wrists so the the hurt can't be seen

souls vs hearts

it's harder to give away a piece of your soul, and it hurts more when it's dismissed.

i should be the last one to complain about anyone wanting love, but it hurts when there is less to go around.

being abandoned hurts, even when they didn't mean to.

i am the down low for a good reason.

on the one hand, they fault me for keeping so much to myself. on the other hand, they give me reason to keep it that way.

but it's going to hurt either way. dying from loneliness or from soul-loss. there's only so much you can give away before you're soulless and then you're done for. but you'll loose it all the same if you never share it. fire or ice? right now i'm voting ice. if you can't feel you can't hurt, and as much as i'd want them to notice, mostly i just want it gone.

people talk about broken hearts, but i've yet to hear anyone talk about a broken soul. maybe because they all die before they figure out what went wrong.

a time for every season

the sun is barely setting, just getting quieter, and the spring rain is better than most, on the trees and thee roof. the sky is still covered in grey, but in the west there is fewer clouds, and there is light. it's good and awesome and the door is open, letting in the spring light and life is good. in this very instant, i am lacking nothing. minutes from now, and before this, there were other things to consider, to worry about, to obsess over. but not now. now is good.

i was reading a thing i wrote years ago. and it was good. not awesome, or fantastic, but good. i am a good writer. (may god have mercy on my soul)


and, in the even that this leapoffaith sends me crashing down instead of flying, i can type pretty damn fast w/o looking at the keyboard, so i could always make a career in administravia.

on the necks of best friends

its either keep talking to keep it all away or stop talking alltogether and never say another word again. there is safety in silence. no one will ever see you if you keep your mout shut.

i used to think that mistakes were most regretable, not chances missed. but now i'm not so sure. or maybe i'm sure but don't want to change. change is hard and i was never one for cliff-jumping blind.

fifty-some days and counting.

when it's too much effort to turn your head

the worst part of recovery is that final plateau, where you are just about there, but it's much too much effort to take that final step.

i've been hacking up chunks of crud in a lovely shade of pale green. i'm morbidly fascinated by the color and texture. spitting does a great job of getting it out of my body. i feel like i'm the only on in the world who has to admire the disgusting shit my body produces.

i miss everyone i've ever known. it's 50-some days and counting till 'freedom', and even that is something of an illusion. i'm trading one set of obligations and torture for a new set. hopefully, i will hate this new prison less than the one i am currently occupying.

i had about a week of soul-deep certainty that this was absolutely the worst possible decision i could have ever made. that the move will be terrible, that the people will be terrible, that everything will be terrible and lonely and i will hate myself and everything i have to do. that i will be too far away, i will be too alone, it will be too hard, i will be bored and not good-smart-talented-clever-notenough enough.

i'm mostly over it, but. the fact of the matter is, i am expecting the next 5 years of my life to blow chunks.

music that will save your life