Status!

It always seems to be a down hill ride. What I wouldn't give again for but a single moment of the past. I'm not even picky. Just give me one before this all started. Foolish and childish I know, and yet I can't seem to help myself. I've had four incredibly bad cluster attacks within the past week. Four emergency room visits, of course. It's really quite shitty, as they can do nothing to help except pump me full of pain medicine until it passes. In the process of fighting back against the attacks, I end up ripping out my hair and gnashing my teeth into oblivion. No, no, I don't do it on purpose. It just happens.

My dresser still looks like a pharmacy. I've been doing my best to wean myself off of the Lortab I have to take, as my tolerance was just going through the roof. The withdraw from it was absolutely horrific (I like that word, horrific.) but I'm back down to my regular dosage and hope to keep it that way. Of course, my other vices kick in simply because my mind has been raped. Strong word, I know. I think the sanity of any other person at this point would be lost, and yet I'm still here, sort of. I admit, my mind is not what it used to be. I find I forget common things I should know. Spelling, famous poems I love, things just told to me, things I should be doing. Things I mean to write, and then forget to. I feel like I'm withering right in front of myself and am completely powerless to stop it. But I'm still here, so I go on. Cigarettes are awfully nice, and despite the fact they produce clusters in other people, it's one of the few things that seems to provide me with momentary relief. I suppose I take what I can get. It's better than the Lortab anyway.

So much time to think, as I can't do much else. I think it must be true, the ever cliche saying you hear in movies, and from those who have lived full lives: It's never about what you've done, only what you didn't. I see how I squandered what was given to me early on, and I'm sad to admit, I do regret it.

I regret not being more generous with who I was.
For clinging to childish ideals and fantasies.
For ruining friendships.
For not saying I love you, more often.
For sitting down, when I should have stood up.
For saying no, when I should have said yes.
Sometimes, for saying yes, when I should have said no.
The list goes on, but it doesn't matter. If I focus on these things, I really will be lost. Sometimes, I forget how bad it hurts. I don't know why, just moments. And I mean moments: minutes, seconds, even. Never longer, and I think I feel happy again, for just a second. Then I get emotional, and the water works start. Har, har, I know. (I actually still have my sense of humor. I don't think it can be taken from me.) Well, I think that's enough gushy isn't it? I really do have a soul, despite how irritable I can be at times. It's really not who I am. Really, isn't.

I like this one, a lot. Most fitting title. Evar.

And It's All About Me

and it's all about me,
that pain that mocks me every moment;
those questions no other can answer.
how I cannot turn away
And the animal that mewls outside my door,
inciting such flame within me;
when it begs for the scraps I will only waste
how I cannot turn away..
What of the homeless man who pleads from the street;
who wants but a single dollar of my time;
whom I disdain simply for his words.
how I cannot turn away.
Then there are those who hate;
who can't bear the thought of another;
those who despise what they are not.
how I cannot turn away!
And it's all about me;
Compassion gone wrong; yet :
I cannot turn away!!
My hate-threaded love
can't turn away...
cannot turn away.
CANNOT TURN AWAY

sincerely,
-j