Circumnavigate
"To go around instead of through" "To go completely around"
Quite often enough I find myself here. In this "physical" space writing about what is both physical, metaphorical, impossible, possible, only in time, and not enough.
I argued with my boss last night ... cuz she "thought I'd be over it by now" at least with that other girl. Turns out it might be that if I want more hours when school lets up, well fuck, I'd have to work with someone who made me feel unsafe.
More like "I YELLED at my boss last night"
Final words being "If I need to find a new job in December, you let me know, SOON."
And all of this is more complex than it seems, what kills me. It's not about these fights. Not solely. How many heads do I have to bash against the wall trying to explain things in the right now... without getting SO personal... as to explain last night, this morning, yesterday afternoon and 3 1/2 weeks ago.
PTSD.
It's a lovely diagnosis. Though, I don't believe too much in psychological diagnoses...
Sue me.
Circumnavigate.
To go all the way around.
Magellan
Tonight I finally have been getting over my cold. So much so I hadn't done school work or lifted or... ANYTHING other than pound numbers on my remote (and watched greys on here) ... that I studied way past when I should have stopped and loved it, listening to the bubbles for my pasta boil, as I hovered over my lit book taking notes for my midterm... what a site.
Enjoyable.
Hardcore.
Some days I feel like I wake up and have it all
T
Good looks
A job, where I love people there... most of the time
Women constantly interested in me lately
A great kiss last week
School
And a program I adore so much I am hardcore for it
I'm supposed to have it all right?
How come I don't feel that way?
These moments in my life where I'm thrilled there's no one I'm in a solid relationship with, for I fear I might break them to pieces.
If I was given the chance on numerous occasions to tell someone how I really feel about things
If I was given more than half an unpaid hour
Or more than 55 minutes
Fucking shit I don't even tell my therapist how I really feel half the time
Maybe I'm afraid of what she might say
Or I'm afraid she can't help me
"I thought you'd be over it by now"
Over it.
Around it.
Through it.
Over... the person who made me feel unsafe
Over... the person who is friends with the guy
Mailed the trespass notice and fired
Because of what he did to me.
Whose boyfriend lives with this guy.
Over it.
As she drives by me, 20 feet away from pulling into my house... I let the beat up shit box pass me... as I slow, not shining my blinker, holding up traffic
For the love of god if you find out where the FUCK I live
... but I digress
PTSD.
Over it.
Hardly.
I stand at work with my hands on the counter, focused on my cooking as she walked in for her check
For it.
My hand two inches from my knife and I know what's going on, it's more than my heart rate
My BP, my cardiac output, my pupils dilating
It's call sympathetic nervous system response
It has one of 2 literal functions in pre-historic man
Fight the bear
Or run from it.
It sets you up, gives you the best advantage that you can get
It's not just heart rate. Fear.
So PTSD these days, so diagnosed, there are no bears, RIGHT
Only over-sensitive, misguided fears
Because Heaven forbid I'm actually RIGHT
That redneck hick from wherever the fuck she is now who passed me in the halls while I was in school, gave him the ammo to fire out of his mouth, to use against me
Because I MIGHT be wrong.
And all I REALLY wanna say
Is IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU
Ian Guarr is dead, because of people like you.
No coalition
No one can protect the words that come out of your mouths
I thought you'd get over it.
Get over it? Must mean I overreacted.
It must.
So here comes the days, MANY days when we stand at the DOR and listen to the brothers and sisters we LOST this year
Because they decided to trust someone
Because they couldn't believe it
Cuz people like you.
Told them to get the fuck over it.
Knife.
I carry a knife.
I rest my hand on it every time I walk into a store.
Ever time I leave work.
PTSD.
You can diagnose me.
But you can't fucking fix me.
Circumnavigate.
I will not do that for you.
Quite often enough I find myself here. In this "physical" space writing about what is both physical, metaphorical, impossible, possible, only in time, and not enough.
I argued with my boss last night ... cuz she "thought I'd be over it by now" at least with that other girl. Turns out it might be that if I want more hours when school lets up, well fuck, I'd have to work with someone who made me feel unsafe.
More like "I YELLED at my boss last night"
Final words being "If I need to find a new job in December, you let me know, SOON."
And all of this is more complex than it seems, what kills me. It's not about these fights. Not solely. How many heads do I have to bash against the wall trying to explain things in the right now... without getting SO personal... as to explain last night, this morning, yesterday afternoon and 3 1/2 weeks ago.
PTSD.
It's a lovely diagnosis. Though, I don't believe too much in psychological diagnoses...
Sue me.
Circumnavigate.
To go all the way around.
Magellan
Tonight I finally have been getting over my cold. So much so I hadn't done school work or lifted or... ANYTHING other than pound numbers on my remote (and watched greys on here) ... that I studied way past when I should have stopped and loved it, listening to the bubbles for my pasta boil, as I hovered over my lit book taking notes for my midterm... what a site.
Enjoyable.
Hardcore.
Some days I feel like I wake up and have it all
T
Good looks
A job, where I love people there... most of the time
Women constantly interested in me lately
A great kiss last week
School
And a program I adore so much I am hardcore for it
I'm supposed to have it all right?
How come I don't feel that way?
These moments in my life where I'm thrilled there's no one I'm in a solid relationship with, for I fear I might break them to pieces.
If I was given the chance on numerous occasions to tell someone how I really feel about things
If I was given more than half an unpaid hour
Or more than 55 minutes
Fucking shit I don't even tell my therapist how I really feel half the time
Maybe I'm afraid of what she might say
Or I'm afraid she can't help me
"I thought you'd be over it by now"
Over it.
Around it.
Through it.
Over... the person who made me feel unsafe
Over... the person who is friends with the guy
Mailed the trespass notice and fired
Because of what he did to me.
Whose boyfriend lives with this guy.
Over it.
As she drives by me, 20 feet away from pulling into my house... I let the beat up shit box pass me... as I slow, not shining my blinker, holding up traffic
For the love of god if you find out where the FUCK I live
... but I digress
PTSD.
Over it.
Hardly.
I stand at work with my hands on the counter, focused on my cooking as she walked in for her check
For it.
My hand two inches from my knife and I know what's going on, it's more than my heart rate
My BP, my cardiac output, my pupils dilating
It's call sympathetic nervous system response
It has one of 2 literal functions in pre-historic man
Fight the bear
Or run from it.
It sets you up, gives you the best advantage that you can get
It's not just heart rate. Fear.
So PTSD these days, so diagnosed, there are no bears, RIGHT
Only over-sensitive, misguided fears
Because Heaven forbid I'm actually RIGHT
That redneck hick from wherever the fuck she is now who passed me in the halls while I was in school, gave him the ammo to fire out of his mouth, to use against me
Because I MIGHT be wrong.
And all I REALLY wanna say
Is IT'S PEOPLE LIKE YOU
Ian Guarr is dead, because of people like you.
No coalition
No one can protect the words that come out of your mouths
I thought you'd get over it.
Get over it? Must mean I overreacted.
It must.
So here comes the days, MANY days when we stand at the DOR and listen to the brothers and sisters we LOST this year
Because they decided to trust someone
Because they couldn't believe it
Cuz people like you.
Told them to get the fuck over it.
Knife.
I carry a knife.
I rest my hand on it every time I walk into a store.
Ever time I leave work.
PTSD.
You can diagnose me.
But you can't fucking fix me.
Circumnavigate.
I will not do that for you.