I'm putting this off, clearly.
I'm playing games of Hearts on my computer, back to back to back, completely without mind.
I'm finishing my second glass of cheap wine. No, it's not boxed.
I'm drowning myself in music by Pinback. I'm not tired of it even though I saw their concert last night.
I'm putting this off, this whole writing thing, for every good reason in the world.
But I know the -tick-tick-tick- is important for my fingers and my head.
...
Though I'm lubricated with merlot and adult stretch marks are growing all over and in me, I'm growing back into a child.
It's like falling backwards blindly without knowing what or who is there to catch me.
And I'm pretty sure there's nothing.
But it's worth it.
Every free falling and freaking out second is worth it.
And I don't care if it hurts when my head hits down -
There's no way it can hurt more than it does when I'm up, trying to stand tall, trying to stand firm and confident and full of answers.
"The strong and caring adult," my supervisor says.
Who's that? I wonder.
If there was such a person in my form, it may only be present as a ghost, because that "me" is no longer here.
I am down there.
Falling, falling, falling.
I say it's a revolution. It has to be. There is no other way.
It's the anniversary of my grandparents death, and my carbon monoxide detector has been going off.
It's the anniversary of my mentor's death.
It's the anniversary of my friend's suicide.
And last week, my dad lost his job, two of my students lost close family members, and my 16 year old coworker was shot and killed.
Another light bulb burnt out in my kitchen.
That me - that me that you were expecting here?
That me is dead too.
"Every time i die
i AM
born again..."
I am falling, falling, falling.
I do not care how hard I hit.
I am weak from standing against gravity and I am exhausted from my depressed existence.
Not exhausted. Fed up.
Fucking pissed that so much shit has either happened to me or around me or to the people I care so much about.
I am giving up this life. I give up on this striving, trying, make the best of the worst vicious cycle I am caught in...
So when you see me, when you see my form, you'll be seeing a shadow.
You'll be seeing what you want or expect to see, or what I've been, or what you know of me.
You should know it's just an image my past is reflecting, for i am
falling
falling
falling
into a new idea.
into a new seed.
into a better part of me.
into a better part of you and this community and this fucked up, empty, god fearing, mindless, hateful world.
and that seed will shatter into a trillion smaller pieces that will sliver into your consciousness and break your ego down until you understand.
Until you understand what I know and what I don't know and what it takes to turn shit into gold.
A new reality is necessary.
It's on the horizon.
Only as I fall. I die. I start over.
I'm playing games of Hearts on my computer, back to back to back, completely without mind.
I'm finishing my second glass of cheap wine. No, it's not boxed.
I'm drowning myself in music by Pinback. I'm not tired of it even though I saw their concert last night.
I'm putting this off, this whole writing thing, for every good reason in the world.
But I know the -tick-tick-tick- is important for my fingers and my head.
...
Though I'm lubricated with merlot and adult stretch marks are growing all over and in me, I'm growing back into a child.
It's like falling backwards blindly without knowing what or who is there to catch me.
And I'm pretty sure there's nothing.
But it's worth it.
Every free falling and freaking out second is worth it.
And I don't care if it hurts when my head hits down -
There's no way it can hurt more than it does when I'm up, trying to stand tall, trying to stand firm and confident and full of answers.
"The strong and caring adult," my supervisor says.
Who's that? I wonder.
If there was such a person in my form, it may only be present as a ghost, because that "me" is no longer here.
I am down there.
Falling, falling, falling.
I say it's a revolution. It has to be. There is no other way.
It's the anniversary of my grandparents death, and my carbon monoxide detector has been going off.
It's the anniversary of my mentor's death.
It's the anniversary of my friend's suicide.
And last week, my dad lost his job, two of my students lost close family members, and my 16 year old coworker was shot and killed.
Another light bulb burnt out in my kitchen.
That me - that me that you were expecting here?
That me is dead too.
"Every time i die
i AM
born again..."
I am falling, falling, falling.
I do not care how hard I hit.
I am weak from standing against gravity and I am exhausted from my depressed existence.
Not exhausted. Fed up.
Fucking pissed that so much shit has either happened to me or around me or to the people I care so much about.
I am giving up this life. I give up on this striving, trying, make the best of the worst vicious cycle I am caught in...
So when you see me, when you see my form, you'll be seeing a shadow.
You'll be seeing what you want or expect to see, or what I've been, or what you know of me.
You should know it's just an image my past is reflecting, for i am
falling
falling
falling
into a new idea.
into a new seed.
into a better part of me.
into a better part of you and this community and this fucked up, empty, god fearing, mindless, hateful world.
and that seed will shatter into a trillion smaller pieces that will sliver into your consciousness and break your ego down until you understand.
Until you understand what I know and what I don't know and what it takes to turn shit into gold.
A new reality is necessary.
It's on the horizon.
Only as I fall. I die. I start over.
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