there’s something important…

…that i need and want to do. it’s something that i’m struggling with. lately, i’m just not good with words…

…i’m not exactly sure why. i’m strong and i’m healthy. i’m getting plenty of exercise and i’m sleeping better than i had been…

…i’ll say that my therapist is partially responsible for this problem, as i let her read something that i had written…

…she told me that it sounded really weird and disjointed and strange. and, it psyched me out…

…i’m afraid that if that was truly that awful, the next thing might be just as awful or worse…

…i guess that might be why i’ve shied away from posting lately. i wrote a post earlier about how i feel…like i’m seven again…

…but, i’m working on being more concise. i’m hoping that my words and vocabulary will come back. i’ve got work to do…

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nonsense…

hot…

steady boil…

slowly burning skin…

scorched, beyond all recognition…

hurt…

all consuming…

aches, pains, fatigue…

curiosity killed the cat…

sad…

sinking feeling…

stuck in quicksand…

can’t fight, can’t flight…

stupid…

slow witted…

really very challenged…

broken heart lies bleeding…  

i’m just sitting here…

…i’m not even in the shade. why, you ask? because there is no shade in the god damn desert. there is just sun, hot fucking sun.

…there’s nothing lush and green here. no beautiful, majestic, mystical trees or forests. absolutely no chance of unicorns.

…it’s hot, motherfucking hot. did i mention that? the wind whips like hot licorice-scorching the hairs inside my nose.

…it bleeds quickly and easily, at will with the dryness and heat. my nostrils now have splits from inhaling dusty desert.

…what lives and thrives in the desert? cockroaches…shit tons of cockroaches. i’ve never lived with bugs before…disgusting!!

…i look at the people…lizards…dried up, leathery, wrinkled, brown, shriveled, old-even if young. no sunscreen, no sunglasses.

…colonies of humans, live like ants under the city. tunnels are home for thousands. you can smell them when the wind is right.

…no place for someone with “peaches and cream skin,” as my mother used to say. i feel myself baking, sizzling in the sun. 

…this place petrifies. it hardens you, like it or not. it spreads a dirty-gritty-oily crust over you, that gets in your dry-dry eyes.

…i feel dirty. bugs, people, dirt…i scrub and scrub and i just can’t feel it. i can’t feel clean. i just want to feel clean again.

…i want to be clean. i want to be understood. i want to be accepted as i am. i want to be free. i just want to go home.

limbo…

oh yes, i know it well…

balancing on the precipice…

leaning and swaying…

trying to decide what’s best…

it’s the point of surrender…

it’s the point of giving up…

it’s complicated and it’s confusing…

but, the best things happen…

when you least expect them to…

i still have faith…

and, i still have hope…

i can get what i want…

and, i will…watch me…

numb and dumb…

i’ve got a lot to say, but every thought escapes me right now. so, instead of me just rambling and saying absolutely nothing of importance like usual, i’m just going to share two things that one of my friends recently shared with me. 

and, there you have it…

me – a cowardly pussy, pretending to be a tiger (not how my friend meant it, but how i feel)

may 18, 2017…

…it was a weird morning. i sat parked on tree lined avenue, waiting for my scheduled pick-up. i listened celebratorily to my favorite song, wish i knew you, by the revivalists.

…the song ended and a very somber disc jockey came on the air and announced, “chris cornell, leader singer of soundgarden, audioslave, and temple of the dog is dead at age 52.”

…i was left sad and numb. i was both surprised and not surprised, as a lot of the great recording artists of my generation have succumb to depression, drugs, and untimely deaths.

…the thread of commonality was very astutely ascertained and written about by the writer of a blog, whose post i will be sharing. i have to say that some of his words really hit home for me.

…yes, the post was about chris cornell, but also about other great artists that defined my generation. but, at the end of the post his words became really applicable to me, too…as a person who has also struggled. 

rest in peace chris cornell

this writer hit the nail on the head. please read if you care to…i believe that the huge takeaway for me was about the depression, despair, and anxiety of my generation. the fact that being a depressed person, feeling despair, feeding on hope, but not wanting to burden anyone…and, instead trying to swallow it down and hide it…becomes all too exhausting and psychically painful to endure. explained in those terms, i get it…i really get it. i have been there myself.

rough session…

…by the time i left…

…my eyes felt reduced to raisins…

…wrinkled by the sun…

…i could taste the salt on my lips…

…from dried, streams of tears…

…i wanted to run far away…

…to hide myself and my iniquities… 

…my transgressions and overall failures…

…i sat there and listened…

…i didn’t leave or “leave”…

…it was a rough session…