My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

I’m scared I’m stuck, stuck feeling like this until I quit breathing. All this dark, I can’t see through it, out of it, it’s so big. There’s always been this kind of spark in me, and it always flickers into a flame, something white-hot, whenever I fall really hard. It’s like Neo in The Matrix, he’s trapped at gun-point in this narrow hallway of a run-down hotel building, takes a bunch of bullets in his chest, stumbles backward, hits a wall, hard. He gets weak, slumps to the floor, leaves a trail of blood where he slid. I remember that scene so vividly, I see the hallway, the recoil of the gun pumping round after round into Neo’s chest. What I really remember is the sound, the thump when his back hits the wall. I see the trail of blood, like paint on canvas. Neo’s lying there, on that dirty hallway floor, dead. Dead, until he isn’t. He gets up, he snaps out of being dead, like it’s something ridiculous. His eyes look so clear, so full of purpose, and he quietly says, really just to himself, “No.” Neo decides he doesn’t have to follow the rules of that world, the Matrix. He wasn’t going to die right there in some hotel building, so far from the one person who’s his home. He fights his way back to her, Trinity, his home.

I think I remember that scene so well because I’ve experienced it. Not that I’ve ever been shot a bunch of times, only to go fuckin’ Kung Fu on the fellow who shot me, but I’ve felt complete darkness, I’ve genuinely almost died so many times. One time, I did die. I laid dead in some e.r. trauma-room for around three minutes. Still, as sad, or physically weak, or terrified as I’ve ever been, I’ve always come to that feeling of perfect clarity and I tell myself, “No.”

I’m scared right now because that clarity is nowhere.

I can’t go home.

I feel so lost.

This blog really isn’t anything good, just like I’m not anything good. I’m really not. I screw up everything that means anything. I’m just this broken, awful, thing. I’m not worth anything.

So, I heard one too many times that my blog’s new template looked very “Tumblr.” I don’t have my own domain name to have my crazy project, this evolving memoir of mine, looking like a Tumblr site. I mean, I know the blog isn’t anything good now, not for a decent while, really, but still… it’s mine, my project. I’ve put years into this place, it’s mine. It’s not nothing, it’s something. At least, to me it’s something.

I’ll try changing this template, the parts that don’t work. The Italian comments and what-not.

Tomorrow, I’ll post something not awful tomorrow. My head just isn’t here, not that it’s ever totally here, but it’s less than enough here to write anything that’s worth anything. Not that anything I write is worth much.

I’m just a zombie, living but not. I’m emotionless motion, lifeless life. Going and going nowhere.

Pretty closet

This is a really shitty post, but whatever.

We cleaned out my closet and my armoire yesterday, practically nothing was spared, old printers (yes, plural), birthday cards, power-bricks to Jesus knows what devices anymore, like, two-hundred-ish DVD movies, pretty much everything went to Goodwill or the trash.

Usually, as I’ve mentioned before, I love just purging everything, I’m the Anti-Hoarder. Almost nothing’s too sentimental, I’m never all, “I might totally need that!” It all just goes. I was supposed to find something in the armoire thorough, I’d never seen it before, but I expected it to be there. I didn’t really know what I’d do with it, really. I’d have kept it, I think. I’d have kept it . I don’t even know what “it” was, but I miss it. I miss it.

Empty armoire

So, I tried writing, started writing, some flash fiction today, but it didn’t go anywhere. I just couldn’t, the words didn’t come bleeding out of me. I’m just not here, I’m so not here.

I don’t know what to write just now, I don’t think I have anything interesting in my head. Sometimes if I just start writing, something interesting spills out, but I don’t see that happening tonight. I’m not feeling very dynamic.

I went to the mall, picked up some shirts at Express, one blood-red that’s a little shiny. I’m a big fan of shiny shirts.

I don’t know, my head’s somewhere else.

I’m really not okay just now, I don’t know how to not feel this. I screw everything up. I don’t try, I just always seem to, and I deserve alone.

I just screw up, it’s all I do. I don’t mean to, I try to do what everybody wants, but I always just fuck things up. That trach shouldn’t have gone in, the alarms should have just kept going.