slow beginnings.
it's all of the noise in my head.
there is not a practical answer.
i pose questions.
peace of mind because i'm sitting here in a freshly cleaned living room, watching television & drinking hot tea. i'm wrapped in a comforter, air conditioning turned off, and i can't get warm. but peace of mind, because i am home. i am safe. that's the answer that i know.
home.
sometimes i forget that i explained myself, and it was years ago. it wasn't now, even though i feel time as then is now and now is then, and i get confused, and i don't understand why someone wouldn't understand. and i should drink some tea. and drink less coffee. and read a book. and breathe deeply.
"What do you do with pain so bad it has no redeeming value? It cannot even be alchemized into art, into words, into something you can chalk up to an interesting experience because the pain itself, its intensity, is so great that there is no way to objectify it or push it outside or find its beauty within. That is the pain I'm feeling now. It's so bad, it's useless. The only lesson I will ever derive from this pain is how bad pain can be." -Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation
i used to write. i used to paint. i used to draw. constantly. it was the only way to get the pain from my heart, to the outside. pushing it to the edges until it fell away and i could sleep at night.
with nothing outwardly expressed in the only way that gets it away from my heart, it sits there inside. and i don't know what to do with myself.
but i've gotten to this point in life. i keep on going. it burns, it stings, it hurts. there are no answers. there is no god. and i am not stopping. i am alive. and it is okay for me to hurt and have no answer. it is okay for me to go on unrelieved. i will be okay. i know that things will change. that is the difference between me and a crazy person.
i will just be uncomfortable. and i am comfortable with that.
there is not a practical answer.
i pose questions.
peace of mind because i'm sitting here in a freshly cleaned living room, watching television & drinking hot tea. i'm wrapped in a comforter, air conditioning turned off, and i can't get warm. but peace of mind, because i am home. i am safe. that's the answer that i know.
home.
sometimes i forget that i explained myself, and it was years ago. it wasn't now, even though i feel time as then is now and now is then, and i get confused, and i don't understand why someone wouldn't understand. and i should drink some tea. and drink less coffee. and read a book. and breathe deeply.
"What do you do with pain so bad it has no redeeming value? It cannot even be alchemized into art, into words, into something you can chalk up to an interesting experience because the pain itself, its intensity, is so great that there is no way to objectify it or push it outside or find its beauty within. That is the pain I'm feeling now. It's so bad, it's useless. The only lesson I will ever derive from this pain is how bad pain can be." -Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation
i used to write. i used to paint. i used to draw. constantly. it was the only way to get the pain from my heart, to the outside. pushing it to the edges until it fell away and i could sleep at night.
with nothing outwardly expressed in the only way that gets it away from my heart, it sits there inside. and i don't know what to do with myself.
but i've gotten to this point in life. i keep on going. it burns, it stings, it hurts. there are no answers. there is no god. and i am not stopping. i am alive. and it is okay for me to hurt and have no answer. it is okay for me to go on unrelieved. i will be okay. i know that things will change. that is the difference between me and a crazy person.
i will just be uncomfortable. and i am comfortable with that.