or to not know why everyone else seems like people even the sad ones i don't have to think about what makes them human lost feels like such an underwhelming term to not know)
i could tell you so many stories i could start a year ago, or three years ago but the string of terror that lead up to them would always be the same and they would be the same and the things that came after?
the day george died i spilled a pot of boiling water down my body (my dad says it's because I'm not careful) my neighbor, old and retired cancelled a gardening date with her daughter to drive me to the ER they wouldn't let her in, they had me stand alone in line for reception my hands above my head, covered in welts and boils tears streaming down my face, collecting on the edge of my mask six feet apart
funny how the slow ways we choose to kill ourselves change as we get older (and all my silly accidents; my burns and broken bones still seemed to hurt more anyway) i couldn't tell you how many things i'd withdrawal from if i just spent the day in bed to think about them
when my house caught fire i fought to survive it
i think a lot about how easy it would've been if i was asleep when it happened
i am still trying to find myself in onion hearts peeling bits of membrane away trying to figure out which pieces are okay to keep but maybe i am just the leaf just the boiled soup base the fertilizer the odor that brings the snot and tears but it is more like i am swimming in mud with mud inside me i am trying to open my eyes a little wider because now the sun needs help to make them glimmer it's like they turned gray one day and decided i looked better without my youth i am waiting for a second wind or at least something that would allow me to differentiate the clean...
drove about a thousand miles last week ended up in the suburbs of chicago took the train in walked around saw the lights all set for christmas took the pink train to elburn back saw someone who looked just like you across the car we made eyes got off two stops before the last didn't turn around couldn't look back
it is negative twenty three degrees outside right now pining on you being somewhere colder but the drip on my upper lip freezes
it's me never moving on just getting better at forgetting...