I want to run now more than ever. While reading old blog entries I learned things about myself that I'm not sure if I can deal with. I want to run from them. I want to run far far far away and hide away in a little cubby where I won't ever have to deal with it. The problem is I already know it, it's in my head and even if I run and hide it'll still be in my head. Ergo there's no point to running. But the desire remains more than ever.
Nope. Can't do it. I gave it a fair shake. I tried. Religion and particularily religious people just piss me off. You have no goddamn right to tell me how and when and where and why to communicate with my god.
I'm having a pitty party. A big ol'fartsey pitty party for myself. I don't want to do any of it. I don't want to have to think about it. I don't want to have to fight it. I don't want to put in all the effort and not see the rewards. I want it all decided for me, only I want it all to be my decision. I want to run away from it all, only I want it to all be here when I come home. I want everything to be different, only I don't want anything to change. And it's not fair that I can't have it all right here, right now!
Sometimes I'm really tempted to say "it's not fair", but then I remember all the times I've told others that it is or that "The fair only comes around one week each August" and it shuts me up.
DON'T EVER TALK ABOUT IT!!!! Don't ever say anything. You have no right to it. You have no right to bring it up. You have no right to demand. It's mine. Not yours. I don't have to tell anyone. I don't ever have to talk about it. It's for me. It's just for me and I don't ever have to share, don't ever have to talk, don't have to do it. You have no right to talk about it. None. MINE. *sob* don't talk about it.
In the depths of the night, while I try in vain to sleep I imagine you. I imagine the black wells of your eyes stareing deep within my own, seeing into my soul and not saying anything
She is ready. She is waiting. She yearns for freedom and fears herself. She claims existence and denies her life. She claims joy and denies her happiness. She is afraid to let go. Longing to be who she is. She sees the makeup but does not understand. She knows she can affect it, but isn't sure how. She wants to learn but is afraid of repercussions. She sees the eye. The dark watery eye that is watching. Always watching. It knows. It sees. It comforts. It questions.
Ok so it's not that I don't like illusion. It's just that I don't like relying on illusion to get me through reality. And if I weren't such a stubborn ass sometimes, I'd be having a fabulous time deluding myself into a false sense of security and safety and completely avoiding the things I need to deal with. Which I don't want to deal with, because sometimes reality bites and illusion never has to bite (although it can if you want it to)
Actually I'm avoiding many of the things I can't quite handle yet, but at least I'm acknowledging they are there and need to be dealt with (not that that really takes care of anything) And one of those major things is the downward slide in my physical health. I know it's declining. Every day I feel a little bit worse and most of the time I have to fake that I'm thinking if someone sees me staring off to to space and wonders what's going on in my head. The truth is there is beginning to be nothing. . . Well not nothing persay, there is a vague fog of almost thought and that dread that lies behind emotion. But I'm not pondering the deep things in life, and I'm not wondering what's on TV, I'm not even thinking about how hard it is to nail jello to wall (which is not nearly as easy as you'd think) When thoughts do occasionally occur they tend to be on the morbid side. The kind noone near me wants to hear. So I don't say them.
I know soon I'm going to have to relent my death first statement, swallow my pride and most of my hope, and admit it's time to start dialysis. The idea terrifies me and the only way I'm going to be able to do it is knowing that's it's only temporary, only to get me through a month or two. But it's a slippery slope. I start dialysis saying "it'll just be a month" but then a month later it's "only one more month", and then the next month it's "only one more month" again and pretty soon it's a lifestyle and I'm existing but not living, existing in a hell I swore to never take on as a lifestyle again. I guess that's one of the realities I'd be avoiding if I could abide my delusions.
but I don't like illusion. I need to face the hurtle and deal with it and then maybe I can use it for what it is and not just to get me through I have never used drugs to avoid reality and I won't use it.
Although I can't in anyway rescind what I stated in the last post, I have calmed down a little bit about it. I'm coming to terms with the idea that things are bad, but all is not lost. The truth of the matter is that I won't do dialysis as a lifestyle again. I simply can't bring myself to do so. There are a great many things in my life worth living for, but living on dialysis is not living. I couldn't force myself to exist that way for the benefit of anyone else. I would have to sell my very soul to live like that and if I sold my soul what benefit would there be for anyone else?
The quote "Give me liberty, or give me death" is much more personal to me now than when I used it as the beginning of a debate case so many years ago. Then I argued it as a philosophical view point. Now I argue it with personal experience, with a passion born of empathy.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004