fact #49

no answer is ever gonna be good enough. 

fact #48

discovering who in ones life, be it in the past or in the present, has scruples and who does not is a very eye-opening and incredibly painful experience, often resulting in such an anguished state of loneliness that one is tempted to fling themselves into a free-fall of co-dependancy and denial.

fact #47

just another bumbling idiot

just another angel in disguise 

fact #46

i want a safe place to cry

how long?

sitting on a bench, enjoying the touch of a cool breeze sliding slow across my arms, i sneeze because of the ragweed and think of a face that is at once familiar and foreign; a love that has become alien despite longing, despite years. the moon is up there, as she always is, and there is no comfort in her consistency. a mirror of loneliness. the chill of absence. my stomach feels hollow and empty.

the world spins toward autumn... in this hemisphere at least... and i wait for new dreams to be born in the same cavity of heart and head where the others have died. 

"it's so fun to go fast," she says.

"is this the saddest i've ever been?" she asks.

i make a pot of ginger tea, count days, count years, count the stitches in the beanie i am making in anticiption of our common return to cold weather and feel my heart rise in affirmation to both sentiments. even her question seems a statement of fact. 

i smoke a cigarette despite having quit my habit 10 years ago this october in honor of my mother's impending demise. i smell my fingers and feel ashamed but reach for a 2nd to quell the sudden, non-sensical desire to poison myself... to feel anything else. 

fact #45

at a certain point, the only logical answer is to stop giving a fuck. 

FLOOD

this evening, my friend asked a few simple questions about my childhood and formative years and somewhere around the hour mark of my response i begin to watch myself from the outside and i heard my own voice in my head say THIS IS A LOT but i went on explaining how it was that my father put me in the care of the state for a week when i was 15 and put my sister there too so that i would stay put inside that weird building, and how our mother would not come get us out of there, how she said I'LL NEED TO TALK TO DAVE ABOUT THIS FIRST and i said WE'RE YOUR CHILDREN! WHAT DO YOU NEED TO TALK TO DAVE FOR? and my sister and i stayed there for a week regardless of whose children we were and at the end of the week when a woman i'd never seen before walked into the TV Room to tell us that our dad was there to pick us up, all the other little girls looked at us with tears in their eyes, asking in tiny squeaks of disbelief YOU GOT PARENTAL RECOVERY ALREADY? because some of them had been there for months and some of them had been there for years because some of their parents liked to hold their 4 year old daughters down and shoot heroin into them to see what a body that small would do on a drug that big but my sister and i were there because my our father wanted to show us who was boss. we weren't rescued from a terrible situation but we were sent back to one. throw-aways with no power and no words, no say-so, no voice at all except this one that came squeaking out tonight across a friend's kitchen table, sudden and unstoppable, the closely held truth flooding the meter of air between us as i explained how a 15 year old girl and her 12 year old sister came home from school one day to an angry father and ended up spending a week inside the California Youth Authority for no other reason than being unwanted. 

fact #44

the fucked up reality of the type of love i've been taught to identify as such is that occaisions arrise in which it is far easier to hate myself than to see the actions of another accurately and to respond accordingly. 

fact #43

one of the absolute best feelings there is is driving fast along an empty highway with Kylie Minogue's "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" playing as loud as the car stereo can handle.