(no subject)
i've been at this for over half my life, i think. i pick it up and put it down. for a long time i just stopped feeling like i had anything to say. sometimes i feel like that is significant.
i think there are some things i need to figure out, and this might be useful again.
there was a time, some years ago, when i didn't cry at all for six years straight. i couldn't. sometimes i would even try. i would think of all of the saddest things i could to try and muster up some tears but all that ever came of it was surprise at what a large arsenal of dark things that were close to me, and my unwavering numbness to them.
when i was 23, i broke my own heart in the most terrible and necessary way. since then, i cry sometimes and i write much less.
sometimes people that i have known for a long time talk about how different i am now than i was ten years ago. i understand and i feel their meaning, but it's been a gradual progression and it's rare that i look so far back. every now and then i'll find a photograph and be transported to a time when i had more friends than time, more drugs in my system than i thought possible while sustaining life (i think i cut it close a few times), more lovers than i now feel comfortable admitting, and so much less fear. it seems like a switch was flipped, i buttoned up, made huge life investments in myself, ended up somehow graduating from a top university with honors, and just purchased an engagement ring a few weeks ago for the type of woman i never thought i would be able to wake up to every morning. she rises early and it takes me so much longer to move than her. most days she starts the coffee and then comes back and holds my feet until i'm ready to right myself. sometimes on the weekends i'll fall back asleep after she springs up, and every time i do she comes back with a pile of bacon and holds a strip under my nose until i wake up laughing. we laugh constantly. sometimes her teeth dry out and her top lip gets stuck just above them and it always makes me quote fire marshall bill. that always reminds me of my dad. after three weeks of knowing each other, she came with my mom and i to visit the place where we took his ashes. that day, when we met we both had gifts for each other. i gave her one of his liberty dollars that he passed on to me, and she gave me a pair of boulder opal earrings, his birthstone. i lost one of them some months later in the atlantic ocean. i almost cried when i did, but she put her hands on my shoulders so firm and said all of the things that could make it okay.
anyway, i had an idea for writing a book. i think i find a lot of help for that here. i just have to remember that i have this idea before i start graduate school and everything goes to shit.
i think there are some things i need to figure out, and this might be useful again.
there was a time, some years ago, when i didn't cry at all for six years straight. i couldn't. sometimes i would even try. i would think of all of the saddest things i could to try and muster up some tears but all that ever came of it was surprise at what a large arsenal of dark things that were close to me, and my unwavering numbness to them.
when i was 23, i broke my own heart in the most terrible and necessary way. since then, i cry sometimes and i write much less.
sometimes people that i have known for a long time talk about how different i am now than i was ten years ago. i understand and i feel their meaning, but it's been a gradual progression and it's rare that i look so far back. every now and then i'll find a photograph and be transported to a time when i had more friends than time, more drugs in my system than i thought possible while sustaining life (i think i cut it close a few times), more lovers than i now feel comfortable admitting, and so much less fear. it seems like a switch was flipped, i buttoned up, made huge life investments in myself, ended up somehow graduating from a top university with honors, and just purchased an engagement ring a few weeks ago for the type of woman i never thought i would be able to wake up to every morning. she rises early and it takes me so much longer to move than her. most days she starts the coffee and then comes back and holds my feet until i'm ready to right myself. sometimes on the weekends i'll fall back asleep after she springs up, and every time i do she comes back with a pile of bacon and holds a strip under my nose until i wake up laughing. we laugh constantly. sometimes her teeth dry out and her top lip gets stuck just above them and it always makes me quote fire marshall bill. that always reminds me of my dad. after three weeks of knowing each other, she came with my mom and i to visit the place where we took his ashes. that day, when we met we both had gifts for each other. i gave her one of his liberty dollars that he passed on to me, and she gave me a pair of boulder opal earrings, his birthstone. i lost one of them some months later in the atlantic ocean. i almost cried when i did, but she put her hands on my shoulders so firm and said all of the things that could make it okay.
anyway, i had an idea for writing a book. i think i find a lot of help for that here. i just have to remember that i have this idea before i start graduate school and everything goes to shit.