it’s pure fear in my brain in my skull full of open-mouthed terror and no No no no no no (mouth opens wide as if to scream but no sound comes out) it is as if my brain knows not to attach worry to the unchangeable my brain is so quick to send out the orders but my body, my body says otherwise there is nothing and everything specific the overwhelming state of my life
I smoke and smoke and smoke and cough so hard I puke there is still no lift, no elevation.
I am sitting in my car, unmoving Right foot on the dashboard Smoke nearly filling the cabin, rain outside Grim and grey and compressing me into this small, flattish wafer of a person I am so alone and I do not want to be so alone but I cannot go anywhere I do not want to go anywhere I do not want to go out in this The things that I know will make me happy I cannot find the energy to begin to think about doing, There is too much preamble. I think about curling up in the shower and letting the water beat down on me as I lay on the floor of the tub I think about crawling back into bed and never getting out I think about my hand my shoulder cramping as I clutch this pipe and cannot smoke enough weed to make me feel better no there is not enough to make me feel better
I do not want advice. I just want some fucking relief.
If I knew what was to come what could I change what could I do If I knew 5 years ago right now what was to come what would I do. If I could see this moment right now where I am, unshowered for days, sitting outside in a public secret space with my coffee and my weed the constant anxiety manifesting in different ways now. I may look calm but I am not.
Everything is so heavy, so fucking heavy. I could not change a single thing, I know that.
Five years. Five.
I need this time I have needed this time I need more time.
(((but where am i?)))
I lose sight, I lose connection I lose my self
I am unsupervised and there is no corral no border no boundaries but the ones I hold to and they are so very shaky the only (??) difference being that I have become better at holding to them i just* let go of that terrible, engulfingneed (let go or be dragged.)
or am i just so tired that I cannot summon the effort
I need to think need to believe that this is something I have done that I have wrought within myself to life, to life.
Salty tears fall; light up, breathe in. Ex h a l e .
five years ago this was your last two weeks on Earth. You didn’t know, I didn’t know. No one did, no one could.
I turned off facebook memories for those first three years, it’s too much.
(there have been years gone by, now, years without you. Years.) “those first three years” is a terrifying thing to say out loud. i digress.
As the memories come up for this week, though, I am warmed again by the things I see, the things you responded to, the way you responded. all not knowing what will come, all perfectly normal and routine and lighthearted and me rapidly cycling, clutching fast to anything stable
and then there is this yawning pit that opens and will never, ever close unhinges its jaws and e v e r y t h i n g in my life hurries in, disappearing.
it is only now, close to the end, again that i am beginning to see my way but is it clear? no, not yet.
I wish you got to see me today I have my new glasses My curls; the color of the hydrangea we planted out front and the porcelainberries that grow wild out back. hopefully soon they will belong to someone else someone else who will take so many closeup photos of them.
The curve of the tip of my nose I wish you could see it. You would kiss it.
breezy, uncertain i woke to grey light, dim the temporary buoyancy of yesterday, the day before gone. sometime in the night it left, stole away, slunk away embarrassed to have lifted only to leave “i’m sorry,” whispers on the breeze “i’m sorry, that wasn’t for you.”
i’m sorry that wasn’t for you.
my shoulders all wound together knit together, snicked tightly, bound. the hand that holds my pipe tensed and clawed the tips of my fingers white from the pressure
unclench your hand, look at your fingers. sit up, you don’t have to get up. sit up straight, you can stretch. you remember most of it. take in deep breaths of this shaded air look up aggressively blue sky hidden (thankfully) mostly by the canopy there are a lot of silvery clouds breaking up the blue
today feels very uncertain, I feel the mania pulling my shoulders together i will do everything that I can but there is only so much available.
I have all of this proof Physical proof of how good I am, how talented, how good, how kind. I have emotional proof. People say lovely things, in front of other people. About me they say these things. Lovely things in front of other people. It can be an entire day of people saying lovely wonderful things about me, showing how much they appreciate what I have to offer.
And all it takes is one motherfucker to bring it down.
I was already in trouble when I woke up yesterday morning. My only goal was to get home to Mojo. To keep that in my head to get home to him, to make sure that he was eating, that he was feeling okay. My only goal, my far point was Mojo. I talked to myself all through my shower to make sure that I brushed my teeth. I brushed my teeth.
I was still not okay when I got out of the shower. I was not okay when I got dressed. The entire drive. Not okay. Knowing my far point.
Got where I was going. Shared that I was not okay. Shared enough fast enough to be as clear as possible. Eyes bright and wide. On. I know that when I am like this (you know how you get) I know that when I am like this I have to protect myself at all costs because to not do so would be dangerous for everyone.
The day went. Carefully. Shared my work to delight, to lesser delight. To what seemed cursory, perfunctory, obligatory. Unreal. Inauthentic. I want people who love, truly. I don’t want someone uncaring, not in any part of my life.
Other skills, gushed over. Lauded. Delighted in. Shared. shared out loud.
All day all day I had teetered on the edge, this rollercoaster poised and threatening at the very top. LOUD VOICES CLOSE CLOSELY loud and close and disharmonious and unyielding eyes slitted, accusing Voices louder.
No. I can’t be, there. I excuse myself away, not far enough but out of sight but not out of tension’s grasp. The only thing I have left to help is disassociation because I cannot physically get far enough away. So I go away. Eyes burning into the computer screen totally focused on the pen in my hand and the rage behind it summoning internal music to fill my skull loudly drown out the screeching noises outside and in. I share. Bits of what’s happening. To exorcise it. Flush it out.
My face is a mask, deadened expression, eyes down. I comply when needed.
The only thing I can remember now is this: “I know you get anxious when it’s loud and there’s a lot going on and and and but you can’t let that SHOW. They said you’re always angry.”
This figuring out of things this Figuring out of how things came to be Things came to be me how I Became.
It is overwhelming in every single way in all three hundred sixty degrees.
It is inwardly and outwardly and upwardly and completely bowling me over and tearing me apart
no it is never too late to learn I just wish you were around so I could show you what I’ve learned who I am who I have become.
Who I am still becoming.
I am sitting in my car and I am smoking and I am shaking and I am full of fear and full of love and they are the same thing.
They have always been the same thing.
As I am parsing all of these things as I am As I am. As I am uncovering all of these separate very distinct very discrete things As I am peeling back the layers and understanding implicitly very explicit differences in things I am filled with patience and sadness at all the time lost in between then and now.
Knowing that I have the rest of forever to be well.
Having promised you the rest of forever to heal.
I had the rest of your forever. and you have mine.