It's funny how you don't agonize over the dead for years.
It's not that you don't miss them but just that maybe you miss them steadlily, like an electrical hum somewhere in your heart.
Then something, or nothing happens, and it's a bullet, a shot of glass mainlined and every time you walk or breathe, another piece cracks off and slices you in a new place.
I mean I know the stages of grief and all. . .
but can it really take ten years to figure out that you've been shattered?
And does it take longer to heal it if it took you this long to own up to it?
I have so many questions and I haven't slept without valium or booze in a long time.
I can't write sometimes and I don't know how to get arround, over or through this.
I had no idea. I just had no idea.
And part of me still plays devil's advocate.
After all a memory is the easiest person to love in the world.
But, deep down, I don't buy it.
Someone will say that recognition and facing things is the first step forward.
I stepped far afield. I have something entirely new to deal with, something I didn't plan on.
When you open up a part of yourself that completely surprises you, it isn't anything I, at least, know how to react to, manage, articulate or integrate.
I'm stuck with snapshots I took ten years ago, smells, maybe parts of a voice . . . less than a box of letters. Things to stragihten up, and nothing to sort out.
Like trying to spring clean a pasture.
It will go somewhere, she's been around for months and I haven't even told anyone who knows me well about this time in my life yet.
I don't even know if I want to bring this into the present.
I surely am afraid that anyone who knows me and wants to love me will be afraid they'll never be able to keep me looking forward, or even side to side.
I don't think they are right.
It's just more work.
I get assignments all the time it seems. Have gotten them for 25 years.
Folks, I am so tired.
~~~~~~~
Call you up in the middle of the night
Like a firefly without a light
You were there like a slow torch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning
So tired that I couldn't even sleep
So many secrets I couldn't keep
Promised myself I wouldn't weep
One more promise I couldn't keep
It seems no one can help me now
I'm in too deep
There's no way out
This time I have really led myself astray
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track
Seems like I should be getting somewhere
Somehow I'm neither here no there
Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile
How on earth did I get so jaded
Life's mystery seems so faded
I can go where no one else can go
I know what no one else knows
Here I am just drownin' in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train
Everything is cut and dry
Day and night, earth and sky
Somehow I just don't believe it
Bought a ticket for a runaway train
Like a madman laughin' at the rain
Little out of touch, little insane
Just easier than dealing with the pain
Runaway train never comin' back
Runaway train tearin' up the track
Runaway train burnin' in my veins
Runaway but it always seems the same
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
"After all a memory is the easiest person to love in the world" ~Beautiful~
My brother died almost 6 years ago, and my dad was devastated. I went through the necessary grieving steps, but needed to maintain strength him. A year and 1/2 later, he lost his battle with cancer. I fell in deep, no one could save me from myself. I had to do it on my own. And now, I adapt. My life is full and happy, with the understanding that I'll always feel guilt for not saving my brother. In turn I try to save everyone else. There are notches from our life that become a part of us, molding our character. Don't let memories own you, own your memories.
And while your at it, explain why it's easier for me to open up on your journal than it is in my own.