Oftentimes in my life I have found myself with the strangest feeling as if I'd just come out of a coma. To most they would say “well that's just how anxiety feels” or “oh that's just stress” but I wonder how those people would react if I told them that it was just that, the feeling going in and out of a coma. Well almost exactly that, for the amnesia that befell a comet survivor was also befalling me as I fell down through the stars. Though I black out I was never knocked out cold, I was just going about my life, and then I wasn't, and then I was again, in my memory never knowing where I stopped living my life and started back up again.
444 - home is calling
1111 - wake up call from the other, bringing light open up to new things coming in
222 - new beginning, relations, compassion, trust … keep positive keep love
I don’t listen to what I’m told because I’m so tired of the truth hurting like an ice pick in my throat.
It feels like a bomb went off but it’s never stopped exploding.
Do I love unconditionally and excessively from falling down from Saturn or did it make me learn to hate? How do you become unlovable? Being excited for another person's intimacy is just an essential part of the human experience. Nights in San Francisco are always colder than I want them to be, and I always feel like I’m a guest no matter where I lay my head.
“If you keep making that face a bad angle will fly over and make it stay that way forever.”
Survivors guilt wares the clothing of the covenant and rides on a pale white horse
“You’ve mellowed out….” Or maybe I’ve just been put out one too many times. I’m out of energy to fight Thanatos. If he won’t listen to my screaming cries I guess I just need to be quiet and wait this out.
555 - Let’s do this again but this time I’m inside out
I'm so devoid of meaningful closure I keep having dreams where you apologize to me for all the things you’ve done and as time passes I realize how deeply I just want to mend things and be friends again. But… I know that you’ve burnt this bridge down so much I’ll never be able to cross it again. But… I miss you and I’m aloud to hurt and I wish you’d stop haunting my dreams.
333- something new
I’d like to be a stranger… always…There’s nothing quite like the fleeting moment when you're someplace new for the first time. The first time is the only time it will be the first and that unfamiliarity is electric in its experience. To discover the unknown for the first time brings more comfort than the place I can navigate with my eyes shut tight.
11:11 - Not sad it’s over, I want to be happy with the good time even if it ends in blood.
4444 - Tired of being angry, just want to live.
I saw a dead bird on the sidewalk yesterday
I saw my name in the sidewalk yesterday
I watched the sun set over the ocean
Bitter sweet, I feel it coming
1021 - Need to keep moving like a shark. Feel the shape of my skeleton. With firefly’s in my chest I feel like I am on the stop block waiting for the sound to go off. I can feel I’m about to be running for a while. Blood child, the room begins to spin.
555 - the tower is beneath me but I’m still struggling to justify running like this. Never wish this upon my worst enemies.
111 - trust your gut that you are right. How tiring it does get when you have been scraping at the walls screaming for help. Screaming to make a dent but never escaping that small lip inside the hourglass, that last little bit of sand that doesn't slip in to pass the time.
I need the winter in order to appreciate the summer otherwise indulgence grows dull under a sky that’s never blue. The thunderstorm feels anger and brimming with grief in the same way you do when you feel you cannot win. It's pounding rain makes you feel less alone confronting the ugly reality of life. I genuinely hate the bitter smell of rain in the spring. Confronting generational trauma and curses and truly understanding them deeply feels the same as pouring salt into an infected wound, you must confront its hollowing truth face to face and bare the pain lest you let it to fester and rot, eating away at you
1111 - I keep waking up at exactly 11:11am
333 - something is coming and I keep seeing messed up eyes. I’m worried about my eye…. my eyes…seeing
11:11 - 444 - 555 - 11:11 over and over again 11:11 they’re calling, wake up.. is it already time to fulfill my contract, to come home… close the circle, finish the loop, where you were before you will be there again but in a new flesh.
All I want is to have a little home secluded in the New England woods or something where I paint and can lay by a fire and warm my agony filled body in peace.
Every six months I travel into a city to show my art and then dissipate into the woods again.
I hate living in the cities and being around people and diseases and I hate being in pain.
And I just want to be alone with just a few folks I like in a little cabin somewhere away from everyone where I’m not in pain.
I don’t want to work, I don't want to make money, I don't want to go to movies or bars or restaurants.
I want a cat to sleep in my chest while I relish comfort in a pile of pillows looking up at a skylight where I can see stars at night.
I hate people, I want thunderstorms and trees, I want to live somewhere where I am content staying in my little space forever.
I want a stream I can put my aching feet in in the summer where I can look at rocks.
I don’t want to see another car or bus or train ever again.
I’m tired of social media, I want books, I want to write, I want to be dirty and free, I don’t want to think about skin care or makeup or what is in fashion.
I want to be warm and safe with vegetables and fresh goat milk for breakfast.
I hate people, I hate the city, I want to live alone in a tree far far away.
I want to smell moss in the summer and hear birds and drink herbal tea and make my own candy and clothing and be barefoot.
I want to paint watercolors on my porch in the sunlight and I want a big bed made of logs with fur pelts to sleep under at night.
And I want to not think about a clock and just spend a whole day on a loom weaving or beading and eat carrots and honey and keep chickens and goats and drink spring water.
I wanna talk to animals and make wreaths out of green spring twigs and have wild mushrooms and berries and swing on a porch swing and sing to myself.
I need a real way out. I need to be somewhere far away where I can breathe.
I’d move back to California if it meant I could live someplace secluded and calm with big trees and wild rabbits.
I’d move anywhere if I could be happy.
No cell service, just internet in one building and one land line, no expectations but to make art and make merry with the deer and like minded people and food that tastes better than anything I'll have again.
I’m tired of sleeping on the floor and eating trash and being in pain.
I want to take a hike alone in a rainstorm, I want to hear the trees talk to each other, I want to see the stars.
I want to have two seconds where I’m not hearing the maddening hum of electricity.
What I’d give to live in nowhere Michigan by the lake in the woods.
What I’d give.
I hate people and steel and plastic and cars and trains and planes.
I hate the never ending noise and the alienation and the hatred.
I hate city’s and sound and grime and gas and oil and processed food that makes me sick every time I eat it.
I’m afraid that the place that is miserable is not a city but in fact myself.
And I don’t know how to live with that or what I should do.
Everything feels like a shell of what it once was and I feel like I’m hoping for something that does not exist.
And I become disappointed when things fall apart.
And now no matter where I go, I’m going to miss wherever I am not, because I’m hunting for a feeling and not a place and that feeling is something that is not coming to me.
I had a fleeting moment in my life where I was content and it’s now since passed and everything I do to recreate that feeling is empty and hollow because I long for something I can’t get back.
I fear even if I get as close to it as to taste it again it won’t be the same and I’ll be disappointed.
It feels like the best time I’ll ever have is in the rear view mirror and it hurts because it was such a small sliver of my whole life.
The thing is I know I was still sad during those moments of comfort and it makes me wonder too if I’ll ever be happy?
Even if I can get back to that place of content I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever reach something better which is full happiness.