"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Sunday, August 12, 2007
It's almost 4:30 in the morning. I can't remember the last time I was asleep this time of night. Technically, its Sunday. I'm still doing Saturday. Not that it was any different from any of the other days.
Monday has a ray of hope. I've gotten a therapist appointment. It's even with someone I already know. I intend to walk in with the mentality of a dump truck. Otherwise, how could she help. I'm going to tell her the things no one knows. Maybe the things I'm not even letting me know.
No packets from Australia yet.
I've started skipping meds. I don't mean to, I'm just so burned out. So loaded with chemicals. I look at the lunchbox full of pillboxes and I just can't always bring myself to eat them. I just can't. I'm not feeling worse. Which makes me wonder.
My days and nights are flipped. I arise in the evening, grab a meal, maybe. Then I'm up all night, me and the cats and the computer. No one really knows, I'm sequestered in here, I could be dead and it might be hours or days. And in my own house. I finally get sleepy when the sun rises, and at least now I have a cot instead of a sleeping bag.
Max, my cat, knows something is wrong. He won't leave my side for an instant. He constantly jumps in my lap to try to lick me, cat cure all for all ills. I wish it would help.
But this isn't life. This isn't living. I could not tell you how I ended up so trapped, futureless. All I know is that I am so, so broken, I don't have the energy to even fight this. It;s just sucking me deeper and deeper and deeper. Every night is worse than the one before it.
My friend tells me to go have a few beers and relax. But its not like that. This isn't a viewpoint problem.
I'm Humpty Dumpty, and I've fallen.
I have a broken head.
And I have a broken heart.
Watch the montages. It's in there. Messages for the void.
What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!