I'm Planning a Great Escape...

These walls don't talk,
Even when somebody knocks,
These walls don't stand,
For anyone else but themselves,
These walls don't fall,
Even when gravity's failing us all,

Tell me, tell me a story,
Tell me not to worry, or pick up the phone,
So turning, turning a deaf ear,
So that I don't hear them throwing stone.
(fair to midland - tall tales taste like sour grapes)

I reach out with my senses, and I feel a vast nothingness. A great divide, a canyon of void.
Dancing on the edge of my perception are sparks of energy. The essence of life and all that is.

But where the two meet, the space between... eternity exists in liminality.

There are too many people. Everywhere, really, but specifically- here. I'm beginning to feel crowded and trapped.

I also feel like I'm not in control of myself. My thoughts, my emotions, my behaviors, my words- none of these things are mine. But they must be, because I am me, and I am.

Or am I?

I sometimes hear what sounds like someone saying my name, but from far away- not trying to get my attention or anything, just... saying my name.
Lately, I also seem to be hearing slamming and/or crashing noises from outside that no one else notices.
Hallucination, or keen observation?

Or something else?

I wish I could learn to love myself.

I wake up in pain. I have energy, but I'm sore and still in a mental cloud.

The cloud persists, even up to an hour after waking.

I indulge myself in herbal pain relief, which makes me feel infinitely better for about 10 minutes.

After that, I have considerably less pain, but absolutely no energy whatsoever to do anything.

Eventually, I'm afraid, I really am just going to have to "harden the fuck up."

The days are just like moments, turned to hours...

Mother used to say, "If you want, you'll find a way."
But mother never danced through fire showers.

Randy wrote "HAPPY" on my palm with a sharpie.

I'd also like to know, if it has to be this freakin' cold outside, could I at least have some goddamn novelty?

Snow? Maybe some ice? The Apocalypse?

Something?

Wish this were a dream, but no, it isn't...

It's Maw's birthday. (Grandmama's mom)

Every year, we'd decorate the tree on December 11th, to celebrate Maw's birthday. While she was alive, and particularly after she passed.
I was hoping to decorate my tree today, but illness has prevented it.

I revisited Grandmama's funeral pamphlets, the obituary, etc. I haven't actually looked at them since I put them away, shortly after she passed last year.

It's surreal.

And fucking painful.

I walk in the rain...