I’ll Be Here In The Morning If You Say “Stay” To Me

Monday: "Cheer up, it may never happen! Unless of course, it has just happened In which case, cheer up anyway because now that it has happened, it probably won’t happen again. Unless of course, it is just about to happen. In which case, perhaps you should carry on being fretful in case this helps to stop it from happening. But if it hasn’t happened by now, it probably isn’t going to happen. Don’t try to tiptoe through the quagmire of anxiety. It will only suck you in no matter how carefully you tread. Walk away from it."
Tuesday: They say, ‘a little of what you fancy does you good.’ Often, it does indeed. But what about a little of what you don’t fancy? Under some circumstances, that can be beneficial too, especially if it helps to keep at bay a lot of what you don’t fancy! Think, for example, of the immunisation principle. By accepting a small dose of a virus, you build up the antibodies that will help you reject the full-blown sickness. With that in mind, let us look at what you are now being subjected to. Don’t mistake a friend for an enemy. Jupiter, Neptune and Chiron are now forming a rare, powerful triple conjunction."
At work, day in and day out, I sit, huddled in my corner with a book, or my journal and a pen, frantically fighting for the few moments of interruptionless almost-peasce that I get in a day. Levar turns up the satellite radio on the rap channel and starts yelling in his tone-deaf drone along with the lyrics of a song that I would rather scratch my ears off than have to listen to, while customers in the store look irritated or amused. Cassy is busy chatting at me about how much she hates Levar, her voice melting into the ambient background noise that I barely hear outside my own thoughts. Jessica is outside having her twentieth cigarette, right outside the window, so her second-hand cancer is still finding a way into my lungs. Maria is racing out the door, as always. A crackhead walks by picking up cigarette butts from the concrete, stuffing them into an empty tobacco bag as he goes, another crackhead, shoulders deep in garbage bin nearby, fishing out recycleables. A hooker up the block has flagged down a familiar car. I feel absent, and as though I am barely above water.
At home, the only safety and comfort I feel is naked, cocooned in my blankets, the cold of the basement air beating down on me, keeping the impending sweat at bay. Sometimes I stay here until the hours have dwindled by so completely that I barely have enough time to get where I need to be. It’s irresponsible. My head has been pounding like an in-use kick-drum at a metal concert for three straight days. The back of my neck feels like someone has taken the flesh and has been twisting it in circles in one direction with a corkscrew, and the tension is so great that it may just pull the rest of my head in with it. At the same time, it also feels like someone has hit me on the base of the skull, full-force with a blunt object. My cranium is splitting open like a blooming flowerbud. Neither drinking nor tylenol have solved this quandary. Ohhh and my eyeballs hurt.
Today, my greatest worry is that the agreement, the treaty, that love and I have made, will falter, and promises (or PROMISE) will be broken. The fear in that is so great that it has kept me awake until 10 to 4 in the morning and shall continue to do so for at least another hour. Underneath the parts that are healing (the new skin on the wound), the same fear is still there. I remember it, or it dawns on me, creeps into my brain like an unwanted visitor… and I cast it away like a whipped animal. Though it may sleep outside, it is still in my yard. Every day I am aware of how you can hurt me. Every day, though I love you, you scare me to death. The urge to run and protect myself, build the wall now, before the gut-wrenching truth comes out, is great. And every day, I fight it for you.
Though considered, I feel that my contibutions mean little, and ultimately end up cast aside anyhow, and I have begun to feel that perhaps they are not worth making at all. It’s hard waking up every day feeling inconsequential, useless and unable to express yourself in any arena of your life. Years ago, this feeling is what started the curiosity about packing my things, getting into my car, throwing a dart at a map and never looking back. Now, I don’t even have an escape route. A friend of mine accused me of trapping myself in the same old traps. Somehow, I wonder if he hoped the free road would lead me to his front door. Unfortunately for him, that was a path he was invited to travel. He decided that the road travelled frequently was safer, and the road less travelled has been closed ever since. Some closed doors can never be reopened. I won’t cross your thresh-hold. That one is up to you, and even then… all it leads is nowhere.
I’m taking a break from everyone else’s shit. It’s too hard to stand by the wayside and have to stand there and do nothing whilst being involved, but… not really involved at all. I cannot take power of what is not mine to control. I’ve given my guidance, offered my sanctuary and my help. Now I must withdrawal and watch the fort I’ve been guarding win the battle. If lit aflame, should I put out the fire or allow it to be burnt to the ground? Either way… the time has come.
Every moment I wonder if I know what I’m doing at all. I feel like a ghost. And all I want to do is live again.

~ by Kд§$ị (ИovΔ) on 07/14/2009.

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