(no subject)
It crept up on me today. It crept up behind me and pounced, when I wasn't looking, when I was distracted by a phone call, a laughing voice, an invoice, a traffic ticket. It crept up on me and pounced and started pounding me with the force of a thousand fists, a thousand baseball bats. And I can't take it anymore.
It's too much. It's all toomuch, and it's never enough. How can there be so many contradictions? I can't take it anymore, all this.. slippage. Because I'm slipping, everything around me is slipping, shifting, and I'm always falling. Isn't there a bottom? Isn't there someone one is supposed to land when one falls? How can a drop last this long?
I want to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away, this feeling of suffocating, of being completely lost inside my own tired, tortured mind. It never stops, my head. It just keeps going, for always and into infinity, and I can never have a moment's peace. I just want my head to Shut. The fuck. Up. Just for 5 minutes.
I don't dream anymore. Did you know that? I don't dream, and I don't know why. There's no escape, even there. There's no more dreams of my safe haven, of te Red Room, no more dreams of my dark driver in his El Dorado from Hell. There's no more Satan in the old wingback chair, reading Dr Seuss. No more angel with green, gold tipped wing mixing drinks behind the bar.
I don't know what I'm talking about, either. But that was the room, the place I always ended up. The Dream. I don't like this. It's all dark and black and barren and I do not like it.
I look out over the tree tops, over the lake, the golf course. I see the horizon, and it goes on forever. The horizon goes on forever and the sea goes on forever, and sometimes I can feel him, my own, my love, my dark angel, and he goes on forever. I used to think I go on forever, but now I know I don't go on at all. I stopped. I stopped a long time ago, I think.
I want Damien back, I need him. I want my mama back. I want Katie back. I would have been such a better friend. We never would have drifted apart the way we did. I would have been a better daughter. I would have tried to listen more, to not be so bloody difficult all the time. I wouldn't have moved away so soon. I would've.. done everything differently.
I would have done everything differently, and I hate the way I did everything and I hate the way I do everything now. It's too much. It's too much and I can't handle it. I'm not strong enough, not.. confident enough. I'm not smart enough or pretty enough or talented enough. I will never be enough.
I wrap darkness around me like a blanket. I drink. I smoke. No matter what I smoke, what I swallow or shove up my nose, no matter how I can't see straight, cant remember my own name, cos I'm that drunk, it's never enough. I can still feel. Even when I'm laughing, there's a tiny little razor, softly tearing, softly tearing, all the way through my heart. Ragged edges, softly tearing.
I can't do this anymore. I can't and I won't and I don't want to. That's the thing. I don't want to. So now what? That's always the bloody question, isn't it? Now what? I can never sort that bit out. I never know what comes next. I don't think I want anything to come next. I want darkness and silence and cold... I want everything to stop, and I want it all to end.
What's the point? What the fuck is the point of any of this? I don't want it. You can take it all, have it all, take it all back. I don't want any of this. I. Don't. Want. It.