I want my life a certain way. I can’t just WAIT for that to happen to me. That was my childhood. That is what is not going to happen now. I have to make the changes myself. Why is it so difficult???
If I broke the bubbles in the bath with a sledgehammer , I thought myself a murderer.
When I break my own heart, I feel like a loser in the gutters of East Toronto.
What is the difference between smashing up other peoples lives
instead of your own?
What makes guilt fight conscience?
What makes you live so poorly
so intentionally unpotentially?
You know there is more out there for you
then sucking bubbles down your throat trying to drown your sorrows,
as if air could do that anyways.
Being stuck for years doesn’t have to mean death.
I think it is the feeling of being mentally stuck
that keeps us the stuck for the longest
the most deadly of all stucks.
We get these bursts of living every now and then
and surge forward with them
and then are surprised when we trip over a log in the middle of a cement parking lot.
Expect and equip.
You have it in you.
What a wild we are.
my heart parts all wisdom whacked.
how in this world
are we supposed to be apart?
how in any other
are we not to survive ?
Candy coated sugar kings,
we tell ourselves our own jokes
by looking in the mirror.
Would I rather be tin man
instead of feeling these highs and lows?
Maybe I just sit on my gold chair
alittle longer each time,
waiting out the anticipation
of falling into mud again.
Is happiness more for the good people?
I sit on a chair
and I really think I don’t care
About being alive
Cause I suck at living a life,
but I’m great at living a lie.
Maybe it was my quivering stomach that awoke me. My head heavy and my heart along with it. I stand up to get water, and I wonder if my legs will hold me. My eyes have dry tears stuck to them.
More then half of my Saturday was spent in drunk phone calls. Reaching out for help, while losing the idea of what I really need help with.
It’s that low point in drinking for 30 days straight. That depressant within it that finally kicked in. Was it building up to this point all along?
My body has sore throughout. Some places more then others. I am weak and my brain fuzzy and confused and I’m conflicted and uncertain and I don’t feel stable. I have to move slow, and slow is even too fast. I have to make a decision, and that is one decision too many.
I will figure this out. And I will need to be confident on what I figure out or else I will not be able to act on it. I feel like my heart just doesn’t want to let go but that is confusing my head up because my head I think, thinks it should.
What a flippin dilemma.
Lately I’ve been having zooms of past enter. They come without control, without desire.
I have tried to figure out why.
- Not currently as happy as I want to be
- A lull in my life right now
- I’m wanting what I had
- I’m lonely
- I wish I had of been better
Looking back on things longingly is kind of dangerous. There’s nothing I can do to get back there and it distorts my future. The future will always come even if I am not ready for it but I can lose out on a lot of opportunities if I’m not. Maybe some part of me is back to being half a leg in with my history. Maybe I’m straddling the past and the future because I am restless and wanting to make a big change and once I do it, my perception on what I’ve lived, will change. And maybe I will lose what I’ve learned. Maybe I want to remember the pain and the choices I could have made to have made it better. So that I don’t make the same choices now. Maybe I’m just beating myself up.
I don’t know how to control these images. They are activated so quickly and without warning. Sometimes I suck in my breath sharp. Not surprised at what I am remembering, but at the force of it’s loudness in my head.
I think I need to get more busy and set up a space where present thoughts can grow. Stability will make thoughts of my past less harmful. And that’s what I need to make.
I’ll tusk the hundred or so of my fallouts
into bins of bones that are turning into powder.
I’ll wave my haunted flag of oblivion
at the smartest shifts in the system
and I’ll roll over undead
and ready to make my fallouts
I am standing on a solid
I didn’t have mere months ago.
I was swallowing the booze everyday
and wanted little to do with life
I am here.
I am feeling sure of many things
I felt no such thing 5 weeks ago.
I was wishing death was easier
and was angry because I couldn’t do it
I am here.
I am here where I watch the flower fluffs float in the sun down by the creek.
Everything seems to have a beauty.
There is a peace I’ve found just in pushing forward.
I wasn’t expecting this.
But this must be why I kept going.
I believe in me and my ability to love the changes I’m undertaking. I don’t know exactly where this came from. To let go of all the mistakes I’ve made and to release myself of guilt. To know that I don’t need to carry it around. I actually don’t. And if anyone in my past wants to hold things against me, to not even give me a chance to shine in spite of my bad choices, then I do not need them in my life.
I will live better without them.
I am here
and the love for MY life is greater because of it.