Me

I think I'm slowly finding myself again. It's been a long time since I could sit by myself and feel okay with that, but I think it's happening. The pain in my chest is subsiding, day by day, but in return I think I saw a glimpse of a spark back in my eye. I don't like some parts that I'm slowly realizing are their, but I'm acknowledging them. I'm going to work on them, slowly, but surely.

sigh

Maybe one day I'll find the real ME.

Let us drink to the bitterness filling our hearts and glasses. To the taste in our own mouths of failure and denial. Let us drink to missed opportunities and suppressed feelings of regret. Let us drink to whatever hand we're dealt: it's certainly not ideal, but at least it's our own. L'chaim.

Imagine a laboratory testing animal, a rat or a rabbit, with all of it's skin removed. Pumped full of something that won't let it die. Hanging suspended by hooks through claws, hair, anything but the exposed nerves and muscles, because supporting your own weight by toenails, teeth and hair isn't nearly as painful as a hook, a clamp, anything pulling on, or even touching, the parts of a living creature that are not built to deal with such a simple thing as air.

Imagine this pitiful and noisome thing, eyes rolling in pathetic desperation.