Thursday, May 24, 2012


Such a lonely day and it’s mine.

It has been quiet around here for the last few days. Far quieter than normal I guess because the cat has been out of commission and is convalescing in the dogs crate. She is starting to go a little stir crazy being locked in her cell. Like we all do at some point. She was scratching at the wall earlier, I offered her a pencil. At least I laughed. We all go a little crazy sometimes, especially when we feel trapped. 

For me space isn’t the issue. I can do just fine for an indefinite amount of time in one place without going anywhere, or losing what little sanity I have left. My problems are deeper, farther down, inside of my soul haunting me as though they happened yesterday and the day before and not years and years ago. 

It’s almost funny how you can wrestle your demons for so long and you never really win. I could liken it to a tug of war between good and evil, because just when you think you win it yanks you over, causing you to fall, be bruised, injured, scarred over and over again as though every flashback, dream, memory is new and branding its mark into your flesh, and your soul for all of time. 

This heart cannot erase you no matter how hard it tries love isn’t enough. The heart understands sadness and rage and anger far better than it recognizes lust or love or anything good. I am perplexed by the human mind especially because we remember the painful things more vividly than anything else we recall. You can remember the clothes you wore, the scent, the temperature, the faces and the people. Yet a joyous occasion is vague as though it were a dream. I have excellent recall both good and bad, however even I have to admit that remembering the pain is easier than recalling the good. 

I have dreamed so many times about her face, her giggles, laughter. I have seen her grow before my eyes into the angel that she always was, yet I never had the chance to meet her. I saw her once. I saw her beating heart fluttering about on the screen as she grew deep within me. Then, like a lightening bug she was gone.

I often wonder where sanity and insanity meet and which side of the line I am on. They say crazy people don’t know they are crazy, I wonder if that is true. Sometimes I sure feel crazed, delusional, where pain is overwhelming to the point that the tears streaming down my face hurt and the air that I breathe in stings like fire. Then I ask myself “Am I already in Hell?”

What could I have done in the past to deserve this life now or what did I do in this life to deserve the torture I lived through and now struggle with every day? Moving on is like a sick joke that only liars can do. I don’t believe moving on can happen, I don’t believe it is real. I think at best the past can be covered up, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still there eating away at you and turning your brain to mush.

As a human the biggest parasite to attack us is ourselves. Our own minds are our own worst enemies. We self-destruct and we trap ourselves like a mime in an imaginary box, we build up walls against others, against ourselves and we find excuses to stay within those imaginary lines.

For years and years the Freudian way of dealing with life’s crap was to lay in a shrinks office and go over every moment of your life, every bad memory, every emotion and now we are coming to realize that those moments being relieved on a shrinks couch isn’t the way to work through anything. The Freudian way makes things hurt more, it brings everything to the surface and it hurts. It kills. It makes you want to die more than you already do. I wonder how many suicides are because of Freud’s way of therapy.

That said, sometimes we need to talk, and for me this blog/journal has become my outlet to get it out in the moment without judgement, or hurt or rage or anger or fear. I own this. These are my words, my deepest thoughts and sometimes my shallowest as well. Sitting in my therapists office was hurting me. I know one of these days I should make an appointment and go in just to vent but I find this rather therapeutic. I have thought about sending him the link so he could understand my thoughts instead of me sitting there fumbling to find the right words at an appointed time and day.

I want so badly to be understood.

I don’t want anyone to know how this feels.

I know who I was so well that I have no clue who I have become. It is scary to look in the mirror and not recognize the person that looks back. 

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