Thursday, April 19, 2018

Trying to take control...



I've been trying to channel my pain into other activities, but that doesn't seem to be working.

Physical pain takes away emotional pain.





It's a hard habit to break. :(

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Looking Back


I’m looking at the stars;
They are so far away and their light takes so long to reach us.
Really, all we ever see of the stars, is their old photographs.


Friday, April 13, 2018

Another Door Closes


Walking into a nursing home, the smell is what seems to always hit you first. It invades all the fine hairs that are found in your nose, and lingers even after leaving the building. It’s an unforgettable smell that seems to seep from the bodies of the old. I think it’s so unpleasant because the smell is associated with death.

On Monday, that smell was stronger than usually when I walked into the nursing home to see my mom one last time. She had died several hours before my arrival, so her body has already begun to stiffen, and her mouth hung open as if she were still trying to grab one last breath. Her body almost didn’t look real, so I felt the need to touch her one last time. Her body had already gone cold and the color around her eyes had changed. She was gone, leaving behind a body that seemed like an empty envelope.

I wasn’t sure what to feel; relief that she was no longer suffering, or sadness that she had left too soon.  I had helped her bury Rusty at the end of January, and here I was again, burying another family member. I think that is partly what led to her departure. She had put 100% of her time into taking care of my brother after he was shot, leaving no time for herself.  When he passed before her, I think she gave up her reason to keep going. 

After the people from the funeral home arrived, they spoke with us briefly about her wishes, and then asked us to leave the room before taking her body. I glanced over at her one last time and then turned to follow my sister outside. My sister had been with her, when she took her last breath. I was glad she was there for her, because I don’t think I could have.

We stood outside talking for a few minutes, before they rolled her body out to the awaiting hearse. Sadness slammed me and I had to swallow hard to hold back the tears. We loaded up the few things she had at the nursing home and drove to her place in Alluwe. I was shocked when I walked into her house to see everything gone. My sisters, my nieces and nephews had already been in her house and taken everything. I really didn’t care about having a lot of her things, but I wanted to be there to help take down our baby pictures, to put things away, to say one last goodbye. I was so disappointed that again they didn’t care enough to include me. I felt it was one last fuck you.  

Sunday I will make a final trip to Alluwe to say good bye. I haven’t broke down into tears yet, but I know it will come soon.

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Death is Ugly

The pain is more intense than any cut I've ever made to my flesh.

A new flavor of pain.

I wanted to talk about it. 
Damn it. 
I wanted to scream. 
I wanted to yell. 
I wanted to shout it to the world. 
But all I could do was whisper, 
'I'm fine.' 

Sunday, March 04, 2018

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Is it wrong that I want to be left alone?



My ‘disorder’ has been peaking in the wrong direction for about a week now. I thought it would just ‘go away’, but this time it wants to keep following me around like a lost puppy. I’ve fought my entire life with thoughts of suicide and letting go of homicidal tendencies, and so far I’ve won that battle, but fear of losing that control has been weighing on my mind more frequently. I try to make myself go out and be around people, but the slightest little thing has me wanting to put my hands around their throats and choke the life out of them.

I stopped writing some time ago out of fear of what others thought about me, but in doing that, I think I lost a part of me. I want that back. I don’t know if I’m any good at writing, but it did give me peace. Writing over the years has giving me a chance to release the demons that are holding me back at being somebody; at least that’s what I’ve been told.  But dammit it’s hard to let them go when they are friendlier and more inviting to me than most people.

My dreams are of killing and being forced to do horrible, heinous crimes, and then I wake up with a smile on my face. Is it because I enjoy the crime, or it is that I’m killing a part of me that no longer needs to be there? Dreams linger throughout the day as if that was reality, and here I am in a dream doing nothing with my life.

I’m going to try and avoid doing anything really stupid, but change needs to come soon. I need to cut ‘things’. I need to shift my thoughts. A psychologist once told me to deal with my fears by exposing myself to that fear until it no longer caused me fear, and that I could do the same thing with my thoughts—expose myself to them on purpose until they no longer bother me.