Death first.
I won't go back. I won't do it. It isn't living to exsist like that. It isn't normal, human or right and I won't do it again. Death first.
Sometimes I am emotionally overwrought with a nameless faceless fear. I'm not sure if it's a fear that I'll get horribly ill, that I'll have to relive things I didn't enjoy the first time, or if it's a fear that I'm not really living now. It's this fear that drives an overabundant unsatisfiable sex drive. It is this fear that makes me want to do wild crazy things to know I'm still alive, to feel the thrill. It's this fear that makes me want to run screaming into the night and find a place to forever hide. But what is it that I'm hiding from with sexual attention, thrill seeking, and wanting to run? What is the actual fear? Is it perhaps that although I feel a fear I feel an equally strong longing for that same dread?
Stay beside me while I sleep.
Every now and then reach over and touch me gently so I still know you're there.
Every now and then whisper softly so I can still hear your voice.
Every now and then sigh so I can know the contentment in your nearness.
Every now and then look over and know I'm contented too.
Every now and then guard me from the dangers I perceive.
Every now and then reach over and touch me gently so I still know you're there.
Every now and then comfort me with your presence.
Stay beside me while I sleep.
So far so good. The desire to run remains. But I'm like a pheasant hiding in the grass, I know the moment I fly away there's likley to be a hunter waiting.
Michael Penn No Myth -
So, she says it's time she goes
but wanted to be sure I know
she hopes we can be friends
I think, yeah, I guess we can say I
but didn't think to ask her why
she blocked her eyes and drew the curtains
with knots I've got yet to untie...
what if I were Romeo in black jeans
what if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth
maybe she's just looking for
someone to dance with
See, it was just too soon to tell
and looking for some parallel
can be an endless game
We said goodbye before hello
my secrets she will never know
and if I dig a hole to China
I'll catch the first junk to Soho
what if I were Romeo in black jeans
what if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth
maybe she's just looking for
someone to dance with
Sometime from now you'll bow to pressure
some things in life you cannot measure by degrees
I'm between the poles and the equator
don't send no private investigator to find me please
'less he speaks Chinese
and can dance like Astaire overseas
what if I were Romeo in black jeans
what if I was Heathcliff, it's no myth
maybe she's just looking for
someone to dance with
I have always believed there is no point to having cake if you can't eat it. Why would I change my philosophy now? Last time I struggled over having my cake or eating it. I chose both and I won, big time. This time I question the pay off. Maybe moldy cake is better. There are no calories that way, no overabundance of frosting (I've never been one for a lot of frosting). Also a big difference was last time I was certain beyond any doubt that the cake would taste even better than it looked. I was fully confident that I was right. This time I'm not so certain, and I'm not a gambling kind of a person. But then What's the point of having cake if you don't eat it?
Most nights when I can't sleep it's insomnia. Tonight it's not insomnia, it's just a busy mind. Busy contemplating, discovering and getting ready to take action. I'm not sure what action yet, but I know that some action will need to be taken. If you deny a hurricane it still comes. If you deny a lie it still haunts you. If you deny pain it only gets more painful. Actually that just helped me a lot. I think I know what to do.
It's not fair. It's just not fair. . . but then I supoze the fair was last week. And it only lasts one week a year and is getting pretty lame by my not feeling all that spectacular standards.
Anger is such a bizzare emotion. It's almost never acutal anger I feel when I get all angry. What I feel is fear. I am convinced that anger is really just an outward denial of fear. I get angry about things that don't actually anger me because I'm too busy denying a fear I can't even name. But on a rare occasion I can at least realise the anger I am directing at someone else is really only a fear I have about myself and I can admit that the I'm really more afraid than angry.
it's interesting to be able to step outside ones general frame of refernce and be able to see the steps of any given grieving process, to know that the anger that flares up so suddenly and violently will give away to bargaining and dispair and eventually acceptance. ah sweet acceptance.
excuse me while I go deny this for a while. maybe if I hit bargaining and dispair real quick I can get to acceptance faster. but if not denial works well. I know it's only a temporary solution but for the time being it works.
Know why I wanted to run. Somehow I always know something is comming before it comes. Some part of me is aware of the discreet inner workings of my body before there are many physical symptoms. But the physical symptoms hit like the sinking of the titanic. The creatine has finally reached a level in which it will affect my every day life. It will affect every aspect of what I do and it will involentarily take away so many freedoms that I have come to enjoy since the transplant.
Work has become an ideal I can no longer live up to. I don't know why that crushes a part of my spirit. I don't really enjoy my job, It's not bad I just don't have the passion for it that I used to. but it crushes me to know that I won't be able to work. That I'm not capable of making that commitment. Of all the devestations, all the irie similarities to the past that one was the worst. I recognized the yellow foamy dry heaves and the bitter metallic taste that causes such intense attention to oral hygiene, but those can be dealt with. They are only minor physical handicaps. Not being able to work. . . that's a change of life.
I don't want to sit across the table from you wishing I could run.
I want to run. I don't know what it is I want to run from. Or where it is I want to run to. But I want to run. Something scary is on the horizon and I don't want to face it. Some huge emotional obstacle is hanging before me and I just want to run from it. You know that fight or flight response we have? Mine is screaming flight, screaming it at the top of it's lungs. But I won't. Something holds me here. Prepares me to fight instead.
I want to run away and do foolish things that prove I'm alive. I want to rush off and get that tattoo I keep talking about and go on road trips to nowhere in particular and drink till I puke (which is something I've never actually done) I want to play darts with sluts and bimbos and sleazy men till 6 am just to prove I'm still alive. I don't necessarily know how that proves anything, but that's what I want to do anyway.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
