Blowing Chunks

Tue Jun 11 2002 11:42PM -0800

So I've dreamt of her (oh yes, I never do get over anything) about three times now and each time I've woken up with my heart aching. Oh, yes, it's quite too late, I am being ridiculous, and it's hilarious how everything seems to converge now that I am tired and vulnerable.

But it's become time to bury everything all at once. Unless I could live about a thousand years, there's simply not enough time to untangle all the tattered threads that have led me to this wretched point of time. I am who I am, and there's really nothing I can do about the past. I mean, at this point, I don't even understand how I even got here. All I know is that bits and pieces of me, no, entire modules and subsystems, are completely broken. I am leaking blood or something or other. If I was like a car and had a panel to indicate when something was wrong, all the lights would undoubtedly be lit.

So. Time for the mass grave. I envision slamming slabs of concrete on top of all these horrific thoughts that have been clawing their way through my soul as of late. Even now I feel my defenses weakening, like there's this thin line separating my current illusion of calm from stark raving madness and tears.

I dare not ask for more. There are probably a billion trillion different things that could oh-so save me right now, but I know that none of them are going to come true fast enough to make any difference. This is all I've got. It's time to roll these cards and hope I can stay in until Fifth Street. Or at least fold with some semblance of dignity. But I have this sinking feeling that I might even be denied that.

I'm not even sure how I should feel right now. But I always wonder, if I keep letting go, won't I eventually run out of things to hold on to?

But then again, maybe even that won't matter.

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