im FULL of fears. i secretely feed off the creativity of others. sometimes its the sadness of others. either way, at times, many times, i feel like i have no identity. in the past month with this guy, i started to see something in myself. i LOVED this something. i felt smart and good and funny and even pretty.
and now i have to figure out how to continue seeing this person in me without the help of that guy. alone with my thoughts. this has proved dangerous in the past. i see cranes dropping and machines exploding. i see swat teams jumping out of helicopters and buses running me over.
i used to walk 100 blocks with my friend jody and we'd be in this bubble. nothing could get in, we were LOST in our world. our thoughts. we were surrounded by this energy. i feel like the last month of my life was in a bubble.
when im alone, i pretend im that same bubble and someone is with me. i pretend they see the same sunset, the same shadow, strange mustache, broken window. when i saw the magnificent crane on saturday with the shadows of men walking so high up in the sky, i pretended i wasn't alone. i longed for someone to race down the path with. i can see someone there with me but they have no face and they are nameless. its a blurred person.
my memory is a diseased soul. it hates me.
jody remembered everything. every single detail. she would tell me stories of bike rides we would take and songs we made up and i would not remember any of it.
my fear is that i will forget how i was with this poet. i will not know how to be that person i really liked in me. i fear my creative energy will die out. i fear it is already dying. im fighting with myself and my depression. im pushing it back. im avoiding it.
i feel addictions to speed and need my blades more and more.
i feel like i cannot be here anymore
i feel dangerous and out of control
and calm and its not enough.
nothing seems enough anymore.
these are the faces of me that i hate people reading.
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4 comments:
For me, I had to treat the depression. I finally am doing that, and I don't feel so lost.
Yesterday I realized that what I want back is the self he reflected back to me. Everything was on fire, and I was there in the centre, by him consumed and renewed daily.
An impossible man. So far, impossible to get over, even though I'm in love with someone else.
I had to treat the depression. I couldn't climb out on my own. Thawing out, yesterday I realized that I carry this grief with me all the time, like a wineskin full of darkness that will pour out unbidden, colouring my day in shades of despair, of futility, of longing.
Fuck that. I may have to lug the goddamn thing around, but I'll be goddamned if I'm going to voluntarily drink from it at regular intervals. I want something else.
So I volunteer with kids. I take medication. I love a man who brings light to my world.
I may not be over that dark one yet, but I'm willing to be, and that's progress.
you sound pathetic. really u do.
What do we do when we slip and hit the ground? What should we keep on doing when we slip and hit the ground, again and again?
What do I like doing? Who are the people I like to be with? Who are my friends? What is the Meaning of Life to me? Is there an absense of Meaning? What do I expect out of a 70/80 years of existence on this Earth? What can I give others? What is Happiness to me? What do the small things of like make me feel?
What are my qualities as a human being? What are my flaws? Who am I without my illness? Am I my illness? Am I an illness?
How do I get up and feel my feet on the ground?
( I believe in You. )
Ummm, hey, it's me, the guy who you went to his senior dinner with (yup, I love bad grammar) at the ole long lost and soon-to-be forgotten LIU way east campus. Anyway, I've read all your posts and I love 'em all. I get what you're saying, but! I take exception to "my memory is a diseased soul. it hates me." Speaking as someone who struggles in the memory department, I happen to cherish it. It was, afterall, my sage who did say, "The things you can't remember, tell the things you can't forget, that History puts a Saint in Every Dream". And it was YOU who frickin' made me the shirt as my birthday gift! Anyway, I like your stuff, just don't curse your memory, cause it will be your guard-dog to defend you against a stupid, painful and regretful future. And by its efforts, you will prevail.
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