I'm stuck.

I don't know how to express myself, at least not in a way that anyone seems to understand.  I live inside my head the majority of the time and the past few years have been a relentless reminder as to why. 

I know feelings are just that, my feelings, and they don't really matter to anyone but me.  I'm tired of apologizing for what I thought it meant to be human.  I'm tired of running away from the encroaching darkness that has been following me throughout my life.  I'm tired of fighting.

I don't want to try and explain anything anymore. 
I've explained myself into nothingness.
There's no comfort anywhere, and I can't pretend anymore, there are no "smiles" left.

I'm stuck and I never imagined that the vast dark void that I've fallen into could feel so confining, so suffocating, that I can't breathe.

I'm stuck.

The acidic tears stream down, burning valleys that will soon become canyons in the once smooth planes of my face.  Time and trial hasten their arrival.  The sorrow isn't caused by growing older, I welcome the lines made by laughter, the wicked little crows feet that play at the corners of my eyes from time to time.  Growing older brings more experience and if you're paying attention, that experience brings wisdom.  These are the signs of time's passage I look forward to most.  These are the things that once fueled my fire.

Now the fire is barely visible amidst the ashes.  No promise of an uprising, not enough to light the smallest corner of my mind, certainly no spark to set me free.  I feel utterly lost.

I think I've forgotten how to write, more accurately, how to think.  I've forgotten how to cry, forgotten how to feel, be angry, be anything at all.  When you censor yourself at every turn, you eventually censor yourself into oblivion.  Nothing left.  

The giving comes naturally, but I guess it's no longer giving.  It's just a natural autonomic response to the stimuli provided. Stimuli = Expectation.

She keeps taking and taking, not even realizing that she is taking me apart one tiny shred at a time. I'm not sure she would even care. I let it happen.

Writing it down even seems trite at this point. 

How is it possible for the only thought stampeding through my mind to be, "I don't know"? 

This isn't one of those times when someone asks a question and I confidently reply, "I don't know, but I'll find the answer for you." Nor is it really a statement at all.  It seems to be as powerful as the thundering hooves storming through Pamplona, resonating within the confines of my cranium.  Not a question, not and answer.
There were no waving crimson flags, no screaming crowds, no pomp at all, in fact, that got me to this place.  Circumstance, yes.
It's as if all sources of incoming information have ceased to be.  Silence from the outside, incommunicado. 

How do you solve a problem that is inexpressible?

Getting Back to Basics

I met this girl once, a couple of years ago.  She was pretty cool.  I grew to know her very well over time and even grew to love her.  She had this really zen-like, calming quality about her, level-headed in any situation but a lot of fun, too.  She was me. 

I honestly never thought I'd be someone who could shine a mirror on the inside and out and be content, happy even, with what I saw.  I'd never experienced it before. I miss her.

Things have been growing increasingly more difficult over the past year, one curve ball after another with barely any time to breathe between swings. I felt bitterness creeping in and knew I was losing myself again.  The self-loathing started to return.

About a week ago, some decisions were made for me, decisions I thought I could never survive.  The reality of it all is that they were truly a gift.  The Universe, in her infinite wisdom, forced me to reclaim the really awesome woman that I was and will become again, regardless of my circumstances.

I now recall that I am strong enough to stand on my own and make the very difficult choices that I will be facing more and more each day with resolve and certainty that they are the right ones for me.  It's not easy, but as cliche as it is, nothing worth having is ever easy.

I hope to start writing regularly again.  I hope to smile more often and laugh out loud.  I hope to leave my house more frequently, not to go to work or the grocery store, but to get out and enjoy all of the opportunities life has to offer.  I hope to leave an indelible mark on someone, even if it just means making their days brighter. 

Most importantly,
I HOPE.

I miss the days of tripping, dipping, swaying, loving, weaving, breathing, just being,
replaced now with one dull flatline of silence.
Ever waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.
It's fallen with a harsh thud so ungracefully from the sky on so many occasions, only to be yanked up swiftly by it's everlong lace, that I rarely even startle when it hits me in the head.

I miss the colors of the waves and breezes, the taste of the sunshine that emanated from her lips, the joy of weightlessness, floating freely above the trees, just living.
And now I stand, feet mired in the pallid clay as I dissapate into the stagnant air,
molecule by molecule.
Sort of Escher-esque, in a way, I suppose,
only much less purposeful.
I wonder how long until I cease to be?
Energy can be neither created or destroyed?
I beg to differ because it's happening now.
Fuck the laws of Thermodynamics.

self indulgent bullshit, my new reality

I did it.  Last week I threw up my hands and conceded defeat, something I always vowed I'd never do. I refused to get out of bed, gave into the tears, then the anger, admitted fear and finally became numb again except for the physical discomfort I'm in.  I guess it's supposed to be some cruel reminder that I'm alive. A fact I'd rather forget some days. This has been the cycle for nearly a week now. My behavior not only disappoints me, but disproves the theory some of my friends have that I am strong. The reality is, I used to be strong, or maybe it was sheer refusal to be what I've always despised, but I'm tired.  I could always count on my mind, even after a few years ago when my physical body started to fail me and I was no longer able to push it to its outer limits, I could always stretch my brain beyond capacity. I don't think I can anymore nor am I sure I even want to. Don't misunderstand my intent. I am not selfish enough to make some ridiculous, grand sweeping gesture of finality. It never even crosses my mind, and therefore I am in a quandry. How do I continue really living each day feeling the way I do about a worsening, unfortunately this time, beyond my control situation?  I just don't know anymore. I don't think I've ever been this far in it. I'm lost.