:
private | folks | currently | previously | mail | profile | g-book |
|||||||||||||||||||||
2003-04-22 - 9:03 a.m. |
|||||||||||||||||||||
Yep. And so. I am full in it, it would seem, full in it. It�s like that feeling I get when someone new reads this diary all the way through. Maybe you don�t know this but when that happens I feel like death. First the worry, then the anxiety, then the panic attack where I can�t breathe and I have to ignore how my heart clatters against my rib cage and I have to sit down because it starts to hurt so damned bad like I�m having a heart attack and then it occurs to me that any morning, any of them, I could wake up dead. Or not wake up, I mean. Nothing scares me more than that thought. When I die, I want to know I�m dying. I want to look death square on. Please don�t let me slip away in the night not knowing, please. Who am I talking to? Nina Simone. Frances introduced me to her. Righteous warrior, that one. Both those ones, Frances and Nina Simone. I�m listening to this song now: Four Women She died yesterday. And the whole world feels like a death watch today. The whole world on its way out. Good thing the day has decided on unabashed beauty. I don't want the world to end on a dreary day. I want to rip out my yucky thoughts. I want to sweep away my brains. Sweep them away. I just want to be able to sit, still, calm, without desire, without judgment, Basho in front of me, keeping watch, we�ll keep watch together. That�s all I want. No more fuzz, no more watery world, no more exposure. I would chop my own arm off if I thought it was giving away too much. Not things, I�m not talking about things. I�m talking about my insides, I�m talking about this current pain, how I want to take it all back and put it away properly where everything used to go. I don�t like this new arrangement. My rooms are confused. Miss Blue is confused. I am mad. I know. Just let me be this way. Allow me the madness. And don't take it over. Mine mine mine mine mine. My crazies. |
|||||||||||||||||||||