I sit on the porch for hours simply staring. The light there does funny things now. It beads into and out of sight as if I were looking out under water. I made a deal with the light though, as long as it doesn't come to close to me, I won't tell anyone about it and only look, from a distance.
Mood stabilizers, might as well call them mood neutralizers. Everything falls toward monotony when I take them. Simple things are now useless in the uncaring place I find myself in. But all that doesn't matter.
I see them looking at me sometimes, their eyes full of hope thinking that maybe I won't need all the medications I'm taking. Looking like they would a car that refuses to start, all the while saying that maybe this time it'll turn over. Not yet.
All they see now is my back as I scoop a handful of dull into my hand and then into my mouth. The real feelings fade away quickly, for which I am so glad. A child can really see so much more that adults when it comes to this. They take a parallel drug to mine I suspect. One which imprints into their minds that it's okay to unplug from the world.
I feel the meds take hold and one final torturous thought grips me - I'm going to cry sometime about all this lost time and I may not be able to stop.
Silence now. Tears can wait or out wait everything.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
I don't pretend to know anything. I can imagine things that, in some ways, are better than real life or at least different. Other than that, I'm a pretty dumb person.
Humor is important though. Sandy's skid marks are pretty funny as is the plausibility of them being a way to reconnect with her mom.
Total BS. Real life is either incredibly boring or jaw-droppingly amazing. It only makes sense to the one who lived it. Outsiders looking in can only dream of how they felt at that point or what affect some seemingly random encounter had on them.
It has to be a lens through which we realize something else. Some other part that has to be there but can't be seen easily. I wonder how much our own personal desires make that lens show something false?
All the best stories have been about forgotten dreams.
Isn't life just a series of them?
Humor is important though. Sandy's skid marks are pretty funny as is the plausibility of them being a way to reconnect with her mom.
Total BS. Real life is either incredibly boring or jaw-droppingly amazing. It only makes sense to the one who lived it. Outsiders looking in can only dream of how they felt at that point or what affect some seemingly random encounter had on them.
It has to be a lens through which we realize something else. Some other part that has to be there but can't be seen easily. I wonder how much our own personal desires make that lens show something false?
All the best stories have been about forgotten dreams.
Isn't life just a series of them?
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
She walked down the store aisle, past where she wanted to be without realizing it. Her mind was lost in memory. The thing about memories, she knew well now, was that they could be very good and uplifting or terribly dark. She held onto all of them though. Each was important in its own way.
Underwear, that's what she was here for. It had been a few months since she had last bought some for her 30 something year old daughter.
Some people thought it strange she still did that bit of shopping for her. In her own mind she echoed those thoughts - it was a little weird. She also knew that we do strange things for different reasons.
Sandy would often tell people about her mother buying under garments for her, which she suspected was a way to gauge that other person. That initial reaction to a bit of private, but safe, info would tell you all that was needed to know about them.
Could that person understand that mother and daughter hadn't always been close?
She and Sandy had fought at one time. Growing up can be the most difficult thing to do, on both sides of a relationship. In the aftermath of anger came distance. Separation though isn't always a bad thing. That time and the weight of memory refines one's view. They influence how we handle other relationships as well.
Later on, when the echo of the shouts had died away and Sandy was more sure of herself, they approached one another again.
It had happened in this very aisle with the two of them shopping for the same thing. Underwear.
That instant lived on in her. The spark that jolted her when their eyes met and the hurt and forgiveness shone with equal measure still hadn't lost any of it's punch. The notion of change was still there but there was also more understanding as Sandy saw her own daughter growing up and knew there would come a day when she would strike out on her own. Each was right and each was wrong.
As only a mother could say, she said, "Those stains are hard to get out aren't they?"
Sandy hissed an intake of breath as she snapped her head around to see if anyone had heard this remark but said, "Mommmmmmm, don't ruin this."
They both laughed at this and she said, "Why do think people come here?
"Besides, it's hard not to speak my mind nowadays, something for you to look forward too."
Underwear, that's what she was here for. It had been a few months since she had last bought some for her 30 something year old daughter.
Some people thought it strange she still did that bit of shopping for her. In her own mind she echoed those thoughts - it was a little weird. She also knew that we do strange things for different reasons.
Sandy would often tell people about her mother buying under garments for her, which she suspected was a way to gauge that other person. That initial reaction to a bit of private, but safe, info would tell you all that was needed to know about them.
Could that person understand that mother and daughter hadn't always been close?
She and Sandy had fought at one time. Growing up can be the most difficult thing to do, on both sides of a relationship. In the aftermath of anger came distance. Separation though isn't always a bad thing. That time and the weight of memory refines one's view. They influence how we handle other relationships as well.
Later on, when the echo of the shouts had died away and Sandy was more sure of herself, they approached one another again.
It had happened in this very aisle with the two of them shopping for the same thing. Underwear.
That instant lived on in her. The spark that jolted her when their eyes met and the hurt and forgiveness shone with equal measure still hadn't lost any of it's punch. The notion of change was still there but there was also more understanding as Sandy saw her own daughter growing up and knew there would come a day when she would strike out on her own. Each was right and each was wrong.
As only a mother could say, she said, "Those stains are hard to get out aren't they?"
Sandy hissed an intake of breath as she snapped her head around to see if anyone had heard this remark but said, "Mommmmmmm, don't ruin this."
They both laughed at this and she said, "Why do think people come here?
"Besides, it's hard not to speak my mind nowadays, something for you to look forward too."
Saturday, August 1, 2009
What to say about Sandy?
She was never really part of the online clique that had been so much a part of my own pain. Even though she was caught up in it.
Sandy was on the edge. Outside looking in on it all. That side though, there was enough hurt for her as well.
I wonder, now, how much of it was self inflicted. It's so easy to hit yourself when you swing in the dark. Too easy to laugh at yourself after.
That's what we're talking about here - darkness. All those dark forms are accessible through simply screens. They wait outside of our comfortable existences, silently judging, and in the end easily pulling us in. Whispers promising something interesting or just something out of place. Window dressing for an opening that had no view. Pure emptiness.
No matter what it was, it was still meaningless. This is something Sandy knew, but I did not. Perhaps I didn't want to know, but wanting had very little to do with it.
We wanted something more from our pet shadows - some new reality that they could never give. Somewhere, down deep, we knew for certain that this was the case but couldn't admit it. We lied to ourselves and to each other.
Now we return with fresh baskets against our chests. All we say, is said slowly. The words are chosen with care. The thoughts behind them, sink toward something else. We can only abide by the safe and comfortable words now.
I think she knows, as I do now, that there are damaged people out there. Some will take all you have to give without a thought. Others seem to spend all their time devising ways to get more.
Can we find some middle ground? Something safe but where we can still talk?
Sandy was on the edge. Outside looking in on it all. That side though, there was enough hurt for her as well.
I wonder, now, how much of it was self inflicted. It's so easy to hit yourself when you swing in the dark. Too easy to laugh at yourself after.
That's what we're talking about here - darkness. All those dark forms are accessible through simply screens. They wait outside of our comfortable existences, silently judging, and in the end easily pulling us in. Whispers promising something interesting or just something out of place. Window dressing for an opening that had no view. Pure emptiness.
No matter what it was, it was still meaningless. This is something Sandy knew, but I did not. Perhaps I didn't want to know, but wanting had very little to do with it.
We wanted something more from our pet shadows - some new reality that they could never give. Somewhere, down deep, we knew for certain that this was the case but couldn't admit it. We lied to ourselves and to each other.
Now we return with fresh baskets against our chests. All we say, is said slowly. The words are chosen with care. The thoughts behind them, sink toward something else. We can only abide by the safe and comfortable words now.
I think she knows, as I do now, that there are damaged people out there. Some will take all you have to give without a thought. Others seem to spend all their time devising ways to get more.
Can we find some middle ground? Something safe but where we can still talk?
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