Two years I've been away. Two years I've not had to write of my pain because he made me happy. Two years this has sat idle while I've been both mentally and physically well.
But then he left me. Left me here alone to stand at his grave and miss him. I can't describe the level of pain it is. I can't describe the level of love there was. I can't describe how much I'll miss him. I can't describe how happy we were together. And I can't describe how I'll possibly go on without him, because I can't fathom it going on.
The sound washes over me in sweet waves of serenity, like a drum beat upon which the world is based. It obliterates other sounds, quieting the world, giving rise to internal speculation, or to the quite nirvana of nothingness, only the sound of the beat, the quiet waves that noone else can hear. A private ocean.
Sour Grapes I'm done hoping. I'm done waiting for things I can't have.
I can't stand the pain of wanting and never getting. It's easier not to want. It's easier to suppress the desire.
It hurts to want so bad, and it hurts to think I'm not good enough to have it. That there is some eternal force stopping me. Some fate standing in my way.
The powers that be have said no and I just need to accept that. I need to stop hoping and just become the bitter shell of repressed desire. Repressed until I don't even know what it was I wanted.
So I was rereading some of the things I have written on this website and I found that I often tend to think that whatever it is that traps me within myself is an enlightened sense. I seem to think that it is something I do to myself unconsciously for my own safety or betterment.
I wonder if this stems back to being told it's all in my head. I wonder if it stems back to my mother stating theories on evolution and crackpot ideas that perhaps I was "different" (in a good way) Perhaps it just goes back to the idea that I find them comforting if a little scary and am beginning to think that the head shrink was right when he told me it was all in my head since there has never been anything medically recorded to prove them and I've never heard similar tales from anyone in the medical community.
Haven't had any lately. Haven't had the time, but if they follow pattern I'd assume tomorrow when I'm staying at home relaxing, coming down off a few days of intense worry. That's when they happen, when I begin to relax. Perhaps that is the reason that I find them slightly comforting. It seems to be when I'm coming down off stress. Actually that might explain it a lot. Hmmm never pondered that before. Makes sense tho.
The weeds have taken over as they do from time to time, and I find it's time to trim them once again. To focus, to concentrate, to relax. By sheer force of will it is time to change the landscape of my mind.
Before enlightenment: cut wood, carry water After enlightenment: cut wood, carry water
Kiss the rain is playing in my head, with the big drum beat in my ear matching it's beat. As the lyrics and the music calm my soul, I ponder the drum beat and it's signifigance, it's uses, it's constant steadiness in my exsistance. It's louder when I'm stressed, drumming harder and harder to create a barrier between everything else and me. It protects me.
The drumbeat seems to have always been there, as if it's been a part of me from the begining of time.
Friday, July 20, 2007