My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I formulate infinity stored deep inside of me…

Archive for August, 2011


August 05th, 2011 | Category: Life

I’m really nervous today and it’s fuckin’ freaking me out. I’m not supposed to be nervous like this, I haven’t been for years, fucking, years. I have errands to run, this thing tonight, and I just want to stay in my room. I don’t want to leave this tiny area under my iMac. I’m tired, and nervous, nothing feels good. The bad dreams woke me every hour last night, they don’t stop anymore. I’m, fuck it, whatever, I’m going.

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I have no idea

August 04th, 2011 | Category: Life

I have no idea what I’m doing, maybe I just need to disappear, vanish. I don’t know.

I just want to go home, I’m exhausted.

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I just want to scream

August 04th, 2011 | Category: Life,Thoughts on Music

I just want to scream right now, scream like Kurt at his last show. SHE LIKES TO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO…! You don’t need to know any of the lyrics, you can know everything from his cracked screams, he’s hurting, and exhausted, and fighting some fight he doesn’t see winning. He’s dying and screaming and thrashing his guitar for anyone to watch because he doesn’t know what else to do. Maybe I see these things because I see the me in him or the him in me, or both. I just, I know how he was feeling. I see how he always, always looks alone on stage, not just in this last show. Kurt always looks like he’s by himself, like he’s not connected to the world save for small glances here and there, tiny connections that burn bright and fast then flame out.

I just want to scream for all the time, the years, the fucking loss, loss of her, my everything. I want to scream for all her thoughtlessness, treating my heart like it’s nothing. I want to scream because I know it would feel better than crying feels.

I’m scared to fall asleep.


Seriously considering

August 03rd, 2011 | Category: Life

I’m seriously considering not writing awhile. I just don’t see any point. I’m not happy, all I do is miss someone. I’m fucking lost. None of that inspires any writing that’s worth reading. I don’t know what I’m doing, I just know every day, I wake up and I feel dead inside.



August 03rd, 2011 | Category: Life

Today is not a good day.

I’m drained and tired and drained.

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So, last night

August 02nd, 2011 | Category: Life

So, last night, the medicine didn’t do a Goddamn fuckin’ thing, I didn’t sleep at all. It wasn’t much different than the bad dreams, except my trach was bothering me, so I kept coughing, and I had a book to read. The rest was pretty much the same, same enough to make me uneasy, and tired.

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Oh, the things I’ll show you…

August 01st, 2011 | Category: Life

I went on this Hellraiser binge a few weeks ago, maybe months, it all blends together these days. Anyway, Hellraiser, with Pinhead, he has all these pins stuck in his face, head, he ushers folks into Hell. Of course, he tries to to make the process of letting a person know that they’re damned, forever, as fucked up and terrifying as possible. Sometimes, in the earlier movies, he simply drags living people off to Hell. In the later movies, he switches up to the “Guess what, Chico, your life’s been so fuckin’ crazy because you’re already dead! This is Hell, you’re already there!” I personally find the latter concept to be more scary. I know I’ve been out of it, drugged up after some medical procedure or another, and I’ve honestly considered, actually felt that, I died and was really in Hell. It’s a bad, bad feeling. Still, no matter Pinhead’s delivery, there’s always this moment, in every movie, where Pinhead tries to spin Hell as some kind of decadent, sexy, not-so-bad experience, and he says, “Oh, the things I’ll show you…” Of course, then he lets you in on the fact that he considers things like being hung from the ceiling by hooks run through your genitals to be decadently sexy, at which point Hell stops sounding not-so-bad.

Oh, the things I’ll show you. I often think about that before I fall asleep at night, like my sub-conscious is telling me what’s going to happen when I can’t fight sleep anymore, and I do fight it. It’s sort of a counter-productive fight because I take medicine to make me sleepy, so it’s not like I can win and stay up twenty-one hours in twenty-four like I would without the medicine. So, I sleep, I have bad dreams, terrible dreams. I wish I could say that they’re interesting, or fun for readers to analyze, like I’m being chased through fields of wheat by giant, man-eating orchids, but they’re nothing as exciting as that, not nearly. I don’t even have the zombie dreams anymore, where I just get bit on the wrist, or the arm, and I’m scared because I know I’ll turn. Rather, every night when I close my eyes I lose someone I love, she’s always so cold, and she always goes. I wake up fast, scared, I feel like my heart might jump out of my chest. This happens over and over, all night long. I start every day exhausted, like I never slept. I’m fucking tired. Right now, I’m tired. I’m always tired anymore.

I’ve literally almost died a bunch of times, hoses break, machines fail, lungs fill with fluid, being right on the edge of not breathing ever again, never ever again, it’s scary. It’s really beyond imagining until it actually happens. It’s definitely like nothing I worried about back when I could talk and breathe without machines. Still, and I’m being completely honest, which I always am here, losing her every night, being without her when I’m awake, it’s worse than not being able to breathe. Whether I’m asleep or awake, everything’s a bad dream. I’m scared, I’m scared all the time. Being alone, without her, it’s more scary than looking straight at death. It shouldn’t be, it isn’t logical, but I’ve experienced both, and being without her is the worst. It makes everything harder. Like, whenever something bad happened, I didn’t feel fear. My head was clear, You’re not going to die, you’ll see her again, be close to her, kiss her, you have to go home. You have to keep breathing, you can’t end here. My home is gone, fighting is harder. I’m worn, afraid, afraid of closing my eyes, not being able to open them again.

Oh, the things I’ll be shown tonight, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

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