For People I Love

I can't make it work. This whole thing is an illusion and it's so hard to keep others out of this...wouldn't want them in even if it was easier. I have hurt people, and I have said stupid things. How many fucking times will I just shut down and shut you all out? I am sorry.

I still love you. That hasn't changed. I am feeling in trouble and the ever-tightening spiral of black, spiky sorrow rips into the soft, spongy gray of my brain. I watch things at work go by like pieces of time through cloudy glass, voices like a skipping record of children laughing...over and over.

The man poised on the tower swivels, slips, and regrets nothing...save the exact manner of his head splashing on the limestone below. He'd have rather landed feet first, in a comical expression of compression, though without the cartoon bounce in the opposite direction.

We fall so fast. We let subtlety clutter our spaces and corrupt our tongues. To be free from it; free from everything; that is heaven.

Insomnia is a Piece of Crap

First the quote - this may explain things...

Sometimes we don't come through,
Sometimes we just get by.
- The Go-Betweens

So much for sleeping. It's like a lost art that I have taken for granted for years, and so now I have forgotten how to do it. It seems simple, but it is anything but. I recently have been experimenting w/ alcohol plus Seroquel to get more than a couple of hours of fitful rest in one night...and even that has failed to produce a full night of sleep. I am reticent to push the dosages of either the alcohol or the Seroquel too much, but it may come to that.

I feel a bit like Edward Norton in Fight Club; pretty soon I'll be beating the shit out of myself in an empty parking lot at two in the morning. Enough on this subject, I think. It is what it is.

fin