i send my SOS to the world- this is my message in a bottle. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pain Isn't A Strong Enough Word I don't know what to say. I keep wandering through bouts of total desperation, total numbness, fear, anger, shoulder shaking sobs and weak, inffectual, useless tears without movement. I got bad news. News that shakes me up, the core of everything I am, makes the 521 miles I am away from home seem like a world away, and myself lonely and anchorless in this place. I want to be home. I want to cry in my own bed, alone, instead of in the bathroom, the only place I can get privacy around here. I don't want anybody to look pointedly at my red, swollen eyes, my shuffling gate, my refusal to make eye contact- and comment. I don't want anyone here to worry about me, I don't want anyone to care because what I really want is to not be here. I want to hug my mom, lay my head in her lap and be a little girl again. I want to cry, laying down in my own shower for long periods of time without wondering in the back of my mind if someone needs to use it. I need a hug. A real hug, some kind of enveloping warmth, from someone who knows me. Something that will give me the footing I need to get through all of this. I used to say I was here to learn my own personal strength, but now I realize that so much of me is tied up in people- people that I love, people that I need. That's just who I am. I'm not totally solitary by nature. I want to share all the things of my life- my joys, my triumphs, sorrows, failures. That's just me. But right now, my eyes are so red that the tears that come from it aren't even water anymore. They actually sting, as if I'm crying vinegar or something that hurts. They're so swollen I can barely open them. I look like I've been through 3 rounds with Evander Holyfield. I can't even write straight. I'm just typing to get the words out, typing for the rhythmic sensation, typing because sometimes I hope that in the spaces in between words, I'll inevitably find the answers to the questions I pose. I write because perhaps it'll break the cycle of lying in bed crying, or lying in the shower, crying. I feel depleted. Empty. Spent dry. But just when I think I've cried enough, I somehow find a little unused spot of my heart and find myself right back where I started. Usually, there is acceptance of a situation. Usually, with time, I can find the foothold to climb further and surmount the issue. But there is a heavy finality that breaks my heart in a way that I've never experienced. There is a clicking clock. There is me so far away. There are the beautiful things that somehow only make me cry more, there are the ugly, painful things that go hand in hand with that. I'm choking on the words because there is so much to be said, and yet nothing at all to say. 11:33 a.m. - Wednesday, Mar. 02, 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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