amazing:
how quickly things can be sorted out - when they aren't avoided but actually addressed - thought over... learned from... discarded or kept.
the resolve it takes to face the day, because this all started when i woke up this morning with a nasty feeling in my heart. i wonder how many people have cried naked, while curled up on the bathroom floor, because they just can't make it to the shower. it's not a pretty site down there with the dog hair fluffing around mucus infused sobs... i've hit rock bottom my friend. i have fucking sunk to the depths of hell. what the fuck is my next move? because this shit - isn't what anyone would call functioning. this is certifiable baby. it's like having the choice - right or left - up or down - sideways - but BITCH, YOU'VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING!!! because this shit - isn't working.
somehow.
i make it off of the bathroom floor. i don't care that my face is covered in snot and dog hair. but out of morbid curiosity, i make myself look in the mirror. and what i see... breaks my heart. i'm witnessing a stranger in the mirror and oh my god, she's in pain. what do i do for a person in pain? i try to comfort them. that really should be a moral obligation. it's not what makes the difference between a nice person and a mean person - this is the difference between good and bad. if i can walk away from that, i'm not a good person. the right thing to do, is to comfort myself. somehow, a warm shower doesn't feel like a chore, but something that i need to feel better. i'm viewing myself from a detached perspective, i'm now just taking care of myself. gently brushing the dog hair away from my mouth, softly dabbing the tears away from my eyes. trying to smile. nope. too much. fuck it. hot shower. rinsing cares away - i am not. but being clean makes me feel more human, so this will likely work. there are periods, of course - when i merge back into myself and am overcome. but i manage to stay upright. this is an improvement. be proud. once clean, it's time to address myself in the mirror once more.
how the fuck am i going to explain my eyes being blood shot and the skin around them being nearly chapped?
that's right. it's too late to call in sick and i'm not sick anyway. by the way. happy birthday. i have my whole life ahead of me - what will i do with it... for the next 365 days? how about longer? what the fuck do i want?
leave me alone.
fuck you.
i've just had my heart broken.
this is how you get better. you pick yourself up and make your next move.
i'm going to be happy. i am going to function.. i can be me. just me. that's all. no one else. not what others think i should be or the expectations i'm so fucking eager to fulfill for someone, just so they'll love me. nope. just me. not your harem of girls. not your daughter. not your sister. not your lover. not your anything. just me. fragile. fucked up. but not broken, not anymore. once i realized i was broken, i began to mend.
it took a lot for me to share all of those things. all of those faces. aspects. fucking crazy shitty thoughts. big ones. bad ones. dark motherfuckers. nightmares that i lived through. it took a lot out of me. but once i was emptied of those horrible things - not emptied - they're still there, but it's as if they've been compressed, squished down to smaller less noticeable chunks that i can kick around from time to time - instead of being crushed by the boulders that they once were. once room is made - better things can be brought in.
let it go. move on. quit trying to untie the fucking knot.
i am pieced back together. because this is all old hat anyway, it's like putting together a puzzle that i've put together so many times that i can do it by feel, in the darkest of dark because sometimes, there is no light, where i am.
