my ramble of the night
I’m sick. Constantly I am choking upon the scar tissue of hurt that envelopes itself deep in my throat, trying not to show like a woman’s Adam’s apple. Yet there it lays, the pain that has weakened me, a strong, well-minded individual with the only desire to be free and freely loved.
Ever since my birth it seemed as if I did not wish to be here. It wasn’t contractions and free-will that brought me to the hospital room but steel claws that grasped upon my thin membrane cranium. Exposed to a destined path my heart began to beat shallow. Murmur, the doctors had called it. I grew out of it, an infant phase I guess. Still to this day I receive constant visits of headaches that overwhelm so much that it sends me to the emergency room. Cat Scans, MRI’s, everything seems to point to a healthy individual. The physical pain in my brain seems to diagnose otherwise. Thank you steel lobster claws. The pleasure I’m sure was all yours.
Junior year seemed to push everything at me all at once. My best guy friend who I had a major crush on happened to date the girl that I grew up with and loved very much. My only guy love and girl love, together, without me. Yes country singers use the material. Anyway it pushed me over the top and I slit my wrists one day after school. I was in my kitchen, the sun was still out and had started to cast shadows over the trees in my yard. I remember the knife. I held it to the light. It had cut steaks that I have eaten, not flesh. It hurt and I cried. Red. I remember the red. Soon I was covered in it. What had I done. I collapsed onto the kitchen floor, holding a cloth around my wrist. Later I would be throwing it away deep in the crevasse of a pizza box and trash bag in the trashcan. Lucky the cinema taught me the wrong way in the art of slicing a wrist. It’s lateral, not horizontal. Stupid me. Couldn’t even get death right. A small scar still remains today, a memorial to my own stupidity. Not doing it correctly or doing it at all I have yet determined.
Later I tried again. Pills this time. Perscription: 2 a day. It was for my head. The headaches. I needed them the doctor said. And one night, depressed and strung out on the things that I am soon learning that people just go through I popped almost the whole bottle. I fell on my bed and slept. Waking up I realized I was still in my room but stuff was coming out of my mouth. I failed again. Maybe I am suppose to fail at this. Doesn’t seem to be working for me. Thank God for that.
It is very awkward. That was years ago and yet in some ways I still feel the same way. What is the point? It’s a question that beats regularly into my now healthy heart. Everyone probably thinks about it at one point or another. I know now that I couldn’t do that to the people that love me so. But it’s hard. To live. To survive. To proclaim your slice of pie in this huge world. It’s as if the harder you try to find something, the deeper the treasure chest gets buried. Deep away under the sandy red marked X it lies. What’s in it? What is there for me? Why am I here? Guess that’s why they call it faith huh? You got to just try to live on, justifying that what you do holds other meanings that hopefully will get you to where you got to go. I feel misplaced. I’d rather find my way back to Heaven. 21 years and I do concur it has been an eventful trip but I am ready to leave when it is my turn. I want to be surrounded in light, my worries no longer existing. Till that day I remain here. I’m without a compass but I am trying to enjoy my time. I’ve met extraordinary people, seen amazing things, and for the most part I have been happy. It’s losing those happy things, that my friend is when it gets difficult. To cope with the loss of something that brings you so much joy tends to make you hope that you won’t come across something better, in fear that it will just fade away. How so have I learned that friends are not an exclusion of this. Fall outs tend to be the thing of the millennium. I guess there is just too many projects and own personal agendas that allow for this to not happen, the sheep, losing it’s wool that has been their with her. One must have to look past this concept. Easier said. I know. I forego my advice on a constant basis. I try though. Try very hard to remain a float. Wool does grow back, does it not? So yes, someday. Someday I will sail with that compass and look back on all of this and with the new knowledge I obtain I will say “AWE those were the times… those were the good times that held me up, made me who I was, put love into my soul and set me free,” and then coincidently it will strike me as it will thus you. “I have said this before…haven’t I? I believe so… can it be… that I said that throughout the whole quest… why yes… through triumphs and failures, through high times and depressing moments… it has always been good for the character of me” And so it shall.
I have no answers. I have no clear vision on how to obtain those answers. There are opportunities everywhere. With that my friend I tip my hat and bid you a due for tonight. The sun will rise soon, and so will the opportunity to share myself and learn from others. That in itself makes life the most interesting, that and how steel clamps can bring infants out of the womb of course.
Ever since my birth it seemed as if I did not wish to be here. It wasn’t contractions and free-will that brought me to the hospital room but steel claws that grasped upon my thin membrane cranium. Exposed to a destined path my heart began to beat shallow. Murmur, the doctors had called it. I grew out of it, an infant phase I guess. Still to this day I receive constant visits of headaches that overwhelm so much that it sends me to the emergency room. Cat Scans, MRI’s, everything seems to point to a healthy individual. The physical pain in my brain seems to diagnose otherwise. Thank you steel lobster claws. The pleasure I’m sure was all yours.
Junior year seemed to push everything at me all at once. My best guy friend who I had a major crush on happened to date the girl that I grew up with and loved very much. My only guy love and girl love, together, without me. Yes country singers use the material. Anyway it pushed me over the top and I slit my wrists one day after school. I was in my kitchen, the sun was still out and had started to cast shadows over the trees in my yard. I remember the knife. I held it to the light. It had cut steaks that I have eaten, not flesh. It hurt and I cried. Red. I remember the red. Soon I was covered in it. What had I done. I collapsed onto the kitchen floor, holding a cloth around my wrist. Later I would be throwing it away deep in the crevasse of a pizza box and trash bag in the trashcan. Lucky the cinema taught me the wrong way in the art of slicing a wrist. It’s lateral, not horizontal. Stupid me. Couldn’t even get death right. A small scar still remains today, a memorial to my own stupidity. Not doing it correctly or doing it at all I have yet determined.
Later I tried again. Pills this time. Perscription: 2 a day. It was for my head. The headaches. I needed them the doctor said. And one night, depressed and strung out on the things that I am soon learning that people just go through I popped almost the whole bottle. I fell on my bed and slept. Waking up I realized I was still in my room but stuff was coming out of my mouth. I failed again. Maybe I am suppose to fail at this. Doesn’t seem to be working for me. Thank God for that.
It is very awkward. That was years ago and yet in some ways I still feel the same way. What is the point? It’s a question that beats regularly into my now healthy heart. Everyone probably thinks about it at one point or another. I know now that I couldn’t do that to the people that love me so. But it’s hard. To live. To survive. To proclaim your slice of pie in this huge world. It’s as if the harder you try to find something, the deeper the treasure chest gets buried. Deep away under the sandy red marked X it lies. What’s in it? What is there for me? Why am I here? Guess that’s why they call it faith huh? You got to just try to live on, justifying that what you do holds other meanings that hopefully will get you to where you got to go. I feel misplaced. I’d rather find my way back to Heaven. 21 years and I do concur it has been an eventful trip but I am ready to leave when it is my turn. I want to be surrounded in light, my worries no longer existing. Till that day I remain here. I’m without a compass but I am trying to enjoy my time. I’ve met extraordinary people, seen amazing things, and for the most part I have been happy. It’s losing those happy things, that my friend is when it gets difficult. To cope with the loss of something that brings you so much joy tends to make you hope that you won’t come across something better, in fear that it will just fade away. How so have I learned that friends are not an exclusion of this. Fall outs tend to be the thing of the millennium. I guess there is just too many projects and own personal agendas that allow for this to not happen, the sheep, losing it’s wool that has been their with her. One must have to look past this concept. Easier said. I know. I forego my advice on a constant basis. I try though. Try very hard to remain a float. Wool does grow back, does it not? So yes, someday. Someday I will sail with that compass and look back on all of this and with the new knowledge I obtain I will say “AWE those were the times… those were the good times that held me up, made me who I was, put love into my soul and set me free,” and then coincidently it will strike me as it will thus you. “I have said this before…haven’t I? I believe so… can it be… that I said that throughout the whole quest… why yes… through triumphs and failures, through high times and depressing moments… it has always been good for the character of me” And so it shall.
I have no answers. I have no clear vision on how to obtain those answers. There are opportunities everywhere. With that my friend I tip my hat and bid you a due for tonight. The sun will rise soon, and so will the opportunity to share myself and learn from others. That in itself makes life the most interesting, that and how steel clamps can bring infants out of the womb of course.