tuesday

i feel good
i feel good
what a strange week already,
i feel good. 

:)

monday

it is monday.
mom has chemo at noon.
i have a meeting at 10, maybe 10:30, i'll check.
i am tired already. 
this is all i presently know about today. 
here's hoping there's more to it. 

hello. hello silent hello.

it's dark here. where i am, it's dark.   and, i don't want to be here,   and i don't know how to be anywhere else. i am scared. i am exhausted by my lack of creativity, and i am scared by the fewness of solutions. 

a million years ago, mar said "maybe you should write. like journal or something, help you deal with it". and i did. and for the longest time it helped. until, i was scared by what i was saying.  and now i'm scared of what i'm not saying. all the things i am not saying. and all the things i am scared to not say. and the problem is all the in-betweens. and how sometimes, randomest things make me really emotional. like a children's choir singing bjork, and their faces which made me almost cry. (this)

* * * 

i am not a robot. this is scary, because i am not a human. i am petulant and thrashy. i do not know the rules this creature abides by, but they are not mine. i did not set them, i do not control this thing. it moves so slowly, but it is soo large. i walk besides it. measuring it. reckoning it. i occasionally stand before it and try to stop it, pointlessly. 

p = mv. 

momentum is mass x velocity. 

this thing moves slow, but lordie it's size. decade+ of growing. i've never seen a tumour so empowered. slurping it's way down the street to work. typing. talking. returning home. ensuring nothing is pleasured in-between. 

* * * 

what the f*ck am i saying. am i actually saying? am i actually... hello? q? are you in there? are you anywhere? help me, there were parts of you i didn't hate. once-upon-a-time, the world was hard but you were okay, you were all i had. 

i... do i not have even you now? do you know how small that makes me feel? 

* * * 

do you know how much time i have spent thinking about it?  - about how to get home from here? this is that movie. the shipwrecked castaway, the lost-in-space thriller.  how did i spool out so far?  i swear i don't know. i promise.  but i am gone.  my brain is weird. i am so f*cking weird. 

* * *

do you understand how hard it is to want nothing, and to walk home from there? to understand that's not the right answer but i don't know which turn was the wrong one. the labryinth. the minotaur. the in-between. 

i tried robotocism. it worked, until i was an alcoholic. - so that can't have worked. 

i tried, whatever the opposite of that iswas, but i kept crying for no reason. often at train stations which is somewhat inconvenient. 

for once, is there a middle? does a pendulum actually ever stop? 40 years - does it ever stop? ever? 

i am ashamed not to know. 

i hate not knowing. 

so i have returned to the last silent place i was happy screaming into. hurling myself into hoping never to return. the anachronistic, boomerville, darkzone of the internet. i am halfway-sure this isn't even a thing anymore. but i don't want to turn on the lights and my notebooks are packed away and pens are scary, a daytime utensil and i have a situation involing nightime monsters. 

* * * 

i thought i'd have killed myself by now.  but,  i didn't. 

fine. ok. we'll live with that. 

the last of me struggles for breath. 

and i need it to grow more of me, because... 

nothing grows here. 

it is dark. 
and, 

i am scared and tired. 

and i now know: 

it's damn hard to get a ride home.

shhh

 imagine i did it. 

imagine i did.

that thing, 

sat in the silence and conceived myself

said said what i felt - worse still - felt it

these are sharp words. sharp and... 

* * * 

why i have i lived this soo long?

will it must it go on? but, but like this ?

this ?

* * *

he asks me - I spoke the psychiatrist today - god bless phone appointments - he asks me how i am - things are good, ups and downs, been on this ride a long time doc, get to know the bumpy parts pretty well. 

sure thing, sure thing. well, you're still managing on 6 a day? - yup, same as always (more like 16

and nothing out of the ordinary? - nothing new, same ol same ol (twitching everywhere, add half a dozen caffeine pills, whatever else i can find, hypnic jerks are no fun, the twitch, the worst are the sores on the sores on the tongue, the strange lights and thinking all the shadows move

great. glad you're doing well. - eh. life. who knows right? win some, lose most. but, a win here and there, should be enough. 

very realistic. - i'm nothing if not accustomed to reality. 

what is reality? - a year ago you told me you couldn't cure existential angst, remember? 

yah yah - so why bother right?  - that's what i say, just. why. bother. 

* *  * 

and. yet. 

time goes its way. and you go yours. and mine?,   Mine? 

well. 

mine, it sinks deep.and, it will never be clear, i am smart man i will never understand it

just why it's so goddam imperative to the alien in my brain that it destroys me. that it does such a god-freaking-damn good job of it

and whether in the end, when i'm diced up on the scale, we'll know then, we'll know, on the scale, diced up, half a pound of flesh and a slowy broken cracked dreamer's pie of a heart, will i know whether i tried and fought,

or. 

not.

* *  *

for so long i have tried not to think. not to feel. what good can come of this? what good comes of putting this out in the world? 

i've been watching youtube. apparently repressed emotions are not such a good thing. substance abuse, constant distraction. sleep problems. disturbances of various types. check check check check. 

but here... 

no one's here anymore. the world has moved on from this space. perhaps here, it's time to re-imagine. re-enliven. 

let's be clear, i'm here to try and remember why it's okay to be alive and who knows and certainly not me i can't remember ever knowing. i'm nearly 40.that's a bruise i'll face another day. 

dear lord help me. 

iust. 

i've run out of prayers lord. i'm trying and it's not going great. 

do what you do. 

it's what it is. 

i hate this carousel. 

bye.

she says

she says i don't understand it. i don't understand people who drink so much -
i don't understand people who don't - [he says]
___- i open something and it smells horrible and if i touch it it takes months to get through. 

so, then he says: remember how you forbid me from dying? [yes, she remembers] imagine feeling - i can't. i can't have this evening/afternoon/moment. i just can't endure it. it's too much i want to turn it off and i want it to stop and i want a repeat later. a fresh chance at it - [she nods] - so that's this. i can't be dead because your forbidding me.. it, dead forever, but i can die tonight. die and shut the whole machine off and it be quiet and thought-less and when i wake... i'll try again. the world will be anew. another chance. 
she's quiet. __ a little longer, then: that sounds horrible. 
- It is horrible. It's not fun, it's horrible. It's a death every night, that's a lot of casualties but they're little bite sized suicides. enough i can chew on without causing too big a mess. 
She responds immediately don't you go making a bigger mess than you're already making;- already made,  ... and making. .

Now he's quiet. So she adds a finishing touch: it sounds horrible though. I'm real sorry. 

* * *

and then they go on to talk about other things. with relief.
and it's sunny.
and the air is nice.
and tomorrow it's a day anew.

oh.

shhh.

THINGS I CANNOT SAY (OUTLOUD) (TO ANYONE) or think

i... just need a pit-dark moment of honesty. just to record the things. for later, for later when it's different and it's a new everything and we've started over - when that all comes i want to be able to remember honestly. need to put a flag down. or bread crumbs. 

1. most of 2018, parts of 2019, you were scared of the edge. at the train station. you kept yourself seated until the train was fully stopped. then you stood up, walked in. doors closed. don't take risks with yourself. it only takes a second to swoon your way towards
2. you still think about it. when you walk to work. when you leave work early because you just can't, and you walk around aimless hoping to see something you haven't seen, you day dream about it. always the same. coming to the train tracks. lying down. head on the track so comfortably, a cloud made of pillows. sweet sweet silent sleep. a sleep with no dreams (at last). why this over and over again? 
3. and every night how worried you are to go home. how unsure you are what to do when you're there. how scared you are of the place. on fridays, the day the cleaner comes, you walk around, trying to follow her steps and see what's changed. relieved to see dust you remember. the dead you. disassociated you. lost you. how will you put it all back together again? how will you remember what you were when you weren't this far away? the dust must know. the dust must. the dust. if not, nothing. 
4. never have you drunk like this. 2019 this is. wake at 9, drink before brushing your teeth. drunk before 10. asleep before 11. awake in the pm, repeat. repeat. repeat. not another day of it. not another day i won't tolerate another single moment single second single any of tod
5. when i was 16 i wrote the last line of the novel. even then, i knew even then how it'd end. i had no idea what the story was, who it was about, how it'd look. i just knew how it'd end. i could visualize it. i saw it. that's the only intuition i've ever had. "I listen to french music i don't understand, and dance like a fiend at an OD funeral".  so it goes. 

What else? what else? be honest q. be honest. no one cares. just be honest. say it. force yourself. say it. effing say it because it's the last chance you have to exist as something other than a pot plant broken robot no one's ever heard silent radio alarm clock f*cking dust heave version of u. please q say something.

1. you haven't gone back to playing philip glass since her. you can't. it's her. it's her. 
2. autumn leaves is her song you can't listen to that either. you stopped playing that months ago you never will ever again. 
3. you know her routes you haven't been anywhere near her side of the block. maybe she's seen me around dear god thank you i haven't seen her. i just can't. i just can't. 
4. maybe i'll be forgiven one day. (by who?)
5. maybe someone will forgive me some day. some day some bum will walk up to me and unsolicited say "hey dude. you're forgiven." and i'll cry and cry and he'll say something about jesus and i'll say something about how i managed 2019 without knowing what impact with a train feels like. maybe. don't jinx it, there's still time. maybe. maybemaybe.

what am i forgetting? what am i dodging?

1. the psychologist. Pam. call her Pam. she suggested you see her. when you passed the exam and were supposed to be happy but instead, who the f*ck knows why, you were the exact opposite and couldn't stop it it was so heavy it was so heavy it was so much you couldn't and the nightmares started and never have you had more nightmares than with her besides you snoring (which you didn't mind the snoring) but the dreams and every night waking up screaming or her waking you because you'd been screaming and thrashing and covered in sweat and ashamed to talk about it and the effing useless pyschologist call her Pam remember that f*cking saga she suggested it might help and even the psychiatrist said bro it might help - remember that
2. why are you doing this? why are you doing this? 
3. i don't want to do this. 
4. i just don't. 

i just don't.

1. i'm scared of myself. 
2. something's gone out from it. it's lighter than i remember, someone poured it all out. 
3. it's... hard to explain. it's __i... 
4. here it is: as long as mom and sahar are alive, so am i. imagine if they weren't. if they weren't, and it's just what today's worth to you, imagine that, imagine you have to weigh your own day and that's what you're measuring what do you think then? __not sure you make it lunch. 

how is this what you wrote? you're doing well. you've been having dinners with people. you shave everyday. you get dressed everyday. you go to work. you're doing so well. you've even started walking around again. sometimes going to gym. you made those 4 jokes last week. that's an improvement. how can you write this? you wrote this?


i.
i..

tried. am trying. will try.

that's all