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Leaving seems to be coming.
And all satisfaction leaving too. I’m crying out so bad with past miseries. My screams are being heard. I’m glad that’s true. I show up at my house every day and every day the pains inflict my mind. Salt keeps getting thrown on the wounds. The wounds will always get worse, always into my whole body is an open wound where even one grain of salt will torture every inch of my skinless body. Sooner or later it’s all over. My mind and body will dissolve just as the salt had. All adaptations, distractions, and hope will become nonexistent. But I just sit here and sit here. Always complaining about what I’m losing by sitting in a puddle of filthy scum. Can’t quite understand why. It’s a gigantic move and my turn is coming up. I’m sitting at my cluttered desk in my full lit room, a Walkman sending emotionally pleasant and warm muzak, my dog’s snores fade in with the muzik. First time her beastly sounds ever seemed so invited and hospitable… and a heaping stack of books that need the dust and decay brushed away and be cracked and to teach. But I can’t. “Gosh I guess I’m just too busy moaning and groaning and pissing my miseries all over this paper.” Well FUCK YOU. You don’t know me or understand me well enough. I realize the troubles I give you by talking in my shirt, not finishing sentences, and so on. I know you want to help, you care, I know. I’ve been faced with the same trouble I think you’re having. You’ve got somebody who doesn’t talk interpersonally to you well. You gather too little and you assume with the little you have. Luckily with the knowledge you do have you can pinpoint a few corrects but with the person (client, whatever) being so complex the subscribed anecdotes are wrong. That’s a problem with caring so much… and needing to help and getting things done. I have come up with a reason why I’m like this with you and even others. I have grown up to distrust and to cower from adults and I even find myself engraving that now. This stuff is not just been observed by me. So many adults have commented to their kids that I am uneasy around them. Right off hand: 2 of them are shrinks, the other shrunk a parent of a friend of mine (haha just joking) just thinks I’m weird and doesn’t want me around their daughter for her safety. The feeling is mutual. The other two, especially the mom really likes me. Another who lives right up the street from me who is a friend of my mom’s notices that I am very withdrawn and quiet at home. This lady told this to a girl who goes to Brebeuf on meeting her at St. Vincent Stress Center who relayed it to me. I’ve lost the point. I talked and realized some more incredible things on the phone with Tom a few days ago all about this stuff. I frantically search for pen and paper to blot some of ti down but I couldn’t. Thoughts of how hard it is to begin relationships (of any kind) come to mind because of shit that’s happened before but fuck I’ve lost the damn point. Maybe that’s it -> .
I’ve somehow gained a lot of energy for this time of night. My sense of humor is coming out and my hands starting to shake and dart. I feel sick. I cannot let this lead to self revolt though like I usually do htat’s when I get really sick. My stomach’s been having its ever so famous stress symptoms today. Gas, gas, and more gas. Gawd that shit hurts, only if it was shit. It’s easier to take care of. This fast paced muzakal meaning now being forced into my head is distracting me but I must admit I’m enjoying it.
I wish I could put as much impact on this paper as a scream would put on the quiet air surrounding me. Somehow some way I could symbolize the powerful scream that is rising form my gut. Somehow if I could smear this roaring fit of sadness and tears that are just saturating my heart and mind that if only they could pour out so once again my heart and mind may reach for another gasp of air.
What is it… please, that flickering light, that is so brought in my soul, but yet so unresponsive, that emits self-truth. I have it where so many have not, now I just need to learn to listen and believe in it. It is for real and it’s telling me to get the FUCK out of here. My mind, I feel, is torturing me for having it but not answering it. “Gawd I must just be really fuckin lazy.”