three weeks and a day ago at roughly this time i was awake, but unlike tonight hadn't gone to bed yet, i felt weird. dizzy, spaced and i remember telling myself - you need to go to bed; you're really going to need to have rested for tomorrow. i didn't have anything significant going on that day. maybe it's folly to think now, in retrospect that i was telling myself something but then, i tried to dismiss myself back in august too but i knew.
so i went to bed and around the time my head hit the pillow my father's head was bleeding out all over the basement floor. i took a picture of that puddle of blood. i don't know why. he'd be slightly disturbed. i wanted to touch it. i'm a little sorry i didn't but then i'm fucking sorry about a lot of things so what's the difference?
i can't sleep and i went downstairs to nip a bit of thanksgiving leftovers and i think to myself i shouldn't eat now - the middle of the night. and i hear my father, telling my mother, "leave her alone. let her eat if she wants." and i'm a mess.
i've done well today - ignoring it. pretending i'm not hurting. which was really the defining feature of our relationship anyway. me pretending i wasn't hurting. but at least then it was broken up by moments. moments that he looked at me and told me i was perfect. moments that i had someone to talk to that understood me.
once again i'm painfully aware of just how alone i am. it seems to be too much to ask for respite, to ask for someone that . .. it's just too much to expect i guess and so i'm going to stop asking.
people want to tell me things to try and keep my channels open and i understand why. i would likely give myself most of the same advice. but there are a few facts. fact one, i have shit to do and hollowing myself out is the only way i know to get it done. fact two, some of the most balanced and least bothered people i know are like this- not coincidentally at least three of them have had not so much as a "how are you doing?" and on the one hand, what the fuck but on the other, i know what it takes to try and be happy so if they can be happy then can i really blame them.
because if i was the type of person who wasn't plagued by second guessing myself then perhaps my heart and mind wouldn't be torturing me to the point where i run scenarios of what i should have done differently and have arguments with him, and her too, that send me free falling into a spiral until i have to break my fall with
dead is dead. and gone is gone. and done is done and that is that. dead is dead.
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