A ceiling fan is on, chopping up my dreams.
I"m trying to find the music that will further inspire me to write this post. I'm not making any progress, but instead of just giving up and shutting down my computer, I've decided to write in spite of it.
This room that I have made into my sanctuary is morphing into my own personal tower. I look at all of the things I have placed on my walls, all of the objects I have lying about, and I wish I didn't have any of them. There are moments while sitting on my bed that I can imagine every luxury I have disappearing. I have odds and ends that I don't need; why bother keeping them? I have learned that I can easily remove something (someone) from my life and not feel much or anything. It's a trait that I consider a gift, one that in fifty years I may wish I didn't have, but right now, it's an asset, to keep me from hurting.
I was watching N.C.I.S the other day (still watching that show, can't seem to stop), and there was a scene -one that is very often present in crime shows -of a woman tied and gagged with her kid-napper pointing a gun at her face. The victim is crying, yelling and pleading through her gag, and as I watch the man cock the gun and belittle the woman, I wonder how I would act if I had a gun pointed at me. I don't cry when I'm scared. I have been prone to laughing, but I doubt I would be laughing when the barrel of a gun is parallel with my line of sight. I have a feeling that I would be silent, probably in shock -dissociative. I definitely would not believe that it was my time to die, but I wouldn't go begging the guy with the gun to not shoot me. If he is planning on shooting, he'll do it.
This is all speculation.
I've been going to the gym. I'm on my last pack of cigarettes. I'm not doing my best to change, but I'm coming along.
I'm glad I decided to write today.
This room that I have made into my sanctuary is morphing into my own personal tower. I look at all of the things I have placed on my walls, all of the objects I have lying about, and I wish I didn't have any of them. There are moments while sitting on my bed that I can imagine every luxury I have disappearing. I have odds and ends that I don't need; why bother keeping them? I have learned that I can easily remove something (someone) from my life and not feel much or anything. It's a trait that I consider a gift, one that in fifty years I may wish I didn't have, but right now, it's an asset, to keep me from hurting.
I was watching N.C.I.S the other day (still watching that show, can't seem to stop), and there was a scene -one that is very often present in crime shows -of a woman tied and gagged with her kid-napper pointing a gun at her face. The victim is crying, yelling and pleading through her gag, and as I watch the man cock the gun and belittle the woman, I wonder how I would act if I had a gun pointed at me. I don't cry when I'm scared. I have been prone to laughing, but I doubt I would be laughing when the barrel of a gun is parallel with my line of sight. I have a feeling that I would be silent, probably in shock -dissociative. I definitely would not believe that it was my time to die, but I wouldn't go begging the guy with the gun to not shoot me. If he is planning on shooting, he'll do it.
This is all speculation.
I've been going to the gym. I'm on my last pack of cigarettes. I'm not doing my best to change, but I'm coming along.
I'm glad I decided to write today.