Tuesday, May 26, 2009

at times I feel like a white shark

I was sitting at the bar last night, yes in my state of condition , I still go out, Just kinda Listening to my own thoughts, and having conversations with myself that I wish I could have with someone. There was a lot of mindless banter going on around me, and I was doing my best to drone them all out. It's been along hard month, I've had a permanent headache that seems to just be laughing at me. It's been days, actually I believe it's been weeks since I've been myself.I'm done drinking, and smoking is next, I cut back a lot in the smoking . I use to smoke 2 packs just at the bar. now not even half......Sperm donor sat next to me glued to those games that they have at the bar, Playing Texas Holdem. We spoke of my first doctors appointment which will be this Thursday and how he wants to go to all my appointments... I felt a little relived that maybe he was growing up a little bit.
Of course by the end of the night my thoughts on him will change... and not for the better.

By the end of the night I was marching down a busy road and taking the long 8 mile track to my home in a fit of tears streaming down my wind whipped cheeks. It was raw emotion , angery grief, and hopelessness filled my body. and as the the trucks screamed by me droning out the sounds of my pain. Tonight was the night that everyone was leaving me to my own grief.

Yes, tiny imperfections, a window to the soul. The Ancient Greeks knew it, the Babylonians knew it. Heck, even Leonard Cohen knows it. ‘Ring the bells that still can ring’, he said, ‘forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in’. nothing is perfect, but this is life... I understand this but I'm tired of understanding everything..

Sperm donor made a very unwise choice, that might have ruined are friendship, He met a girl last night and he made a choice to spend the rest of the night with her. Though she was drunk, to the point where you couldn't even understand anything that came out of her mouth, and she smelled like puke and liqueur. He was my ride and he made some pitiful excess as to why he couldn't take me home. So I walked my feet are cracked and bloody by the end of the night , I guess morning because I got home at 5 am , I've walked before but I was it planning on walking so I didn't have the right shoes on

I'm a living breathing person, I have feelings , and thoughts, I bleed and hurt just like anyone else, So why do some People forget that we are all human, that we are meant to be holded with respect and kindness? He called to ask me if I needed a ride tonight because it's cold and wet outside.... it was cold last night and I did it with no Jacket and wearing flip flops and a skirt...... Oh yes and Sperm Donor did not even call to see if I got home okay, he has no worries when it comes to me....Carring his flesh inside of me and he does it think twice about it.

I'm not a faceless stranger, I'm someone that he shared his dreams and fears with, he told me his secrets and joys he told me of his demons.... I don't understand him.

Maybe he should pause before me and truly see what he is doing to me? maybe

On my best days I feel just like a great white shark. Not all-conquering and indestructible — though I have my moments — but rather that if I ever stop moving, if I take a moment to correct myself in the full glare of the light, I’ll probably sink. I think this a sentiment typical of our time: we’re a people of movers, a swarm of busy-ness. We’re motivated not so much by greed as we are by an overriding fear of failure. And as a result, we create, we experience, and we consume far more than anyone else before us. We’re individualists, yet form clusters within. We’re dreamers, wheelers and schemers. We’re movers. Generation text? The baby boomboxers? Whatever. We defy categorisation because we don’t stay in one place — neither physically, mentally nor emotionally - long enough to own it. Our world gets smaller by the second and as it does, the mystery … the joyous excitement of new discovery, becomes less definable. How nice would it be to strip back the fine layers of resilience to leave us all vulnerable for a while. To feel the rawness of each new breath as it surges through our lungs. To be exposed to the realness of it all. At least for a day or two.

wouldn't that be nice....

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