Tuesday, January 6, 2015
gather your strength
the mountains... the freshness of the air, perfectly humidified and seasoned by a myriad of wooden entities.. the rhythmic and melodic score of the soundscape that seems to cater to whatever reflective narrative you've got unfolding in your mind... the spiritual ebb and flow of feeling so small&individual to feeling yourself existing in every facet of beauty around you...
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
from me to me.
this is for the pieces of me that rationalize the discontinuation of my meds:
FUCK YOU. SHUT THE FUCK UP.
look, we intervened. we put a stop to your ridiculously desperate mania and started taking the dopamine blocker again. cuz you know what? when shit hits the fan... well, you can't control it or yourself. and no one likes it when you resemble that pestilence card; doubled over, vomiting nothing but maggots&flies. god, you're disgusting.
truthfully, its whatever... you can always convince yourself its whatever. and now? you want to say things that are awfully stupid. because you miss her. and once you've felt so put together, its hard to feel so... disconnected.
I'm glad you are writing this because I think its helping you to process what you're actually feeling... and to see how pathetic your mixed state episodes can be.
I don't think I'll ever know if she loves me; if anyone ever loved me, or will. I don't think that's so important though. I'm never gonna be alone, just stuck with you fahking bastards... but people seem to like us, even if just in doses. which is fine, because good lord, you can only handle most people in doses anyway.
look. don't be in love anymore. its affecting your performance. and if she needs to struggle alone, don't beg her to let you help. don't beg her to communicate. don't ask her simple fucking questions -- don't ask her ANY questions -- because the lack of response is just gonna DRIVE YOU FUCKING MAD, mixed-state-self. don't tell her you wanna fuck her, don't even THINK about it, you desperate drunken dick. just don't. separate yourself, its not so bad being just you. just... make sure you're someone you love and respect enough to be comfortable being alone. positivity isn't so hard to conjure.
but damn. you sure do fucking miss her.
... and as long as you don't let that feeling define you right now... I think its ok to feel the ache of an empty chest.
FUCK YOU. SHUT THE FUCK UP.
look, we intervened. we put a stop to your ridiculously desperate mania and started taking the dopamine blocker again. cuz you know what? when shit hits the fan... well, you can't control it or yourself. and no one likes it when you resemble that pestilence card; doubled over, vomiting nothing but maggots&flies. god, you're disgusting.
truthfully, its whatever... you can always convince yourself its whatever. and now? you want to say things that are awfully stupid. because you miss her. and once you've felt so put together, its hard to feel so... disconnected.
I'm glad you are writing this because I think its helping you to process what you're actually feeling... and to see how pathetic your mixed state episodes can be.
I don't think I'll ever know if she loves me; if anyone ever loved me, or will. I don't think that's so important though. I'm never gonna be alone, just stuck with you fahking bastards... but people seem to like us, even if just in doses. which is fine, because good lord, you can only handle most people in doses anyway.
look. don't be in love anymore. its affecting your performance. and if she needs to struggle alone, don't beg her to let you help. don't beg her to communicate. don't ask her simple fucking questions -- don't ask her ANY questions -- because the lack of response is just gonna DRIVE YOU FUCKING MAD, mixed-state-self. don't tell her you wanna fuck her, don't even THINK about it, you desperate drunken dick. just don't. separate yourself, its not so bad being just you. just... make sure you're someone you love and respect enough to be comfortable being alone. positivity isn't so hard to conjure.
but damn. you sure do fucking miss her.
... and as long as you don't let that feeling define you right now... I think its ok to feel the ache of an empty chest.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
just the beginning.
Jesse wonders if he's real while he drinks chocolate milk out of the carton. His milk mustache glistens -- almost sourly -- in the heat of the dying summer sun. This happens every fall, he supposes. Everything -- EVERYTHING -- is a never-ending hamster wheel. Thank god for those moments, those perfect, precious moments of existence in which he truly feels alive. One deep breath of crisp autumnal air and he is filled with a mixture of familiarity, anxiety, and adventure.
School. Its time for school. Squinting carefully at the trees that line the street, he gets dust on his white t-shirt from leaning against his brother's old mountain bike. He never learned how to make a sandwich, and that concerns him almost as much as the uncertain eye-twitches of his perfectly plain history teacher. Is her eye dry? Does she need eyedrops? Is she winking? So, he waits patiently til most of the afterschool hubbub has subsided and visits with her every Tuesday and Thursday while she grades papers, his cheeks rose-red with a mixture of pride, embarrassment, silent courage, and impossible hope.
I miss your body... and, as you so eloquently described, worshipping your body; studying the softness, the curves, the sensitivities it holds... watching it -- feeling it -- react to the thoughtful touch of my fingertips, the desperate swirl of my tongue, the gentle nuzzling of my nose&cheeks... I miss holding you, wrapping you up in my arms completely, tightly, like a big, familiar comforter. I miss laying on one another, naked, warm, red-cheeked and covered in goosebumps... feeling each other breathe in&out, feeling each other's energy...
be mine, always.
be mine, always.
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