iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
The phone rang at 2.30 p.m. I knew it was going to be Theresa. Everytime I am about to do something (shower, etc.), I am distracted by a ringing phone and a "hi, what are you doing?" Today she told me that she found my social security card and my vermont license behind a dresser in the hallway. I lost them there over 4 years ago.
I had just been released from CMC Hospital that day. After a week of having my head sliced open, being stitched and pieced back together, wrecked off meds, physical therapy, and shitty food that i refused to eat- I was ready to call Pennsylvania my home again.
I had placed the cards on the dresser. But not the one in the hallway. A little while had passed, I guess, and I noticed that they were missing. Did they grow feet? I had accused my boyfriend of the time for misplacing them. I made him route through garbage bag after garbage bag, and then the same ones again. I made him look all of the room with me. I don't know why it was such an issue to have that license. Maybe it was for physical evidence that once again, my life was being ripped apart, leaving me distroyed. Only this time, a busted face, road-rashed body, and complete fucked up ankle to tac on with nothing.
It's odd, you know. How our minds have the complete power to remember and not-want-to-remember things. Sometimes it's not even on purpose. I think back about when I lived in Vermont and the terrible car accident and three years of living with hell. At the time, he was my savior, my god. I would have done everything for him. Which I haven't figured out why, yet to this day. I was miserable when I was with him. I look back now, and I can't really remember good times or bad times with him. I can't really remember anything about it. I do recall a time when we first broke up. I thought I wouldn't be able to survive... to go on.....
Why do we all do that shit? We can survive alone. I don't hate him. I'm not trying to forget about all of it. I just don't care to think about it at all. I've been like that lately. I re-evaluate relationships after that, and I examine what I am going through now... And I want to stop thinking about it. So I did. It makes me sad. Because nothing every goes as planned.
But what are plans, anyway? Especially the ones that you don't fallow through with. They just turn into lost time that you don't ever look back on... cause everything seems so sad. You question yourself into your blue in the face on 'why didn't you stick with that, or why did you walk away from there early....?' And it makes me sick. I always think I choose the wrong way. But it doesn't matter. I am used to being kicked down. I now believe without all these obsticles that I try stepping forward from everyday my life would be boring. I would get tired of sitting around, listening to music that makes me want to fucking smash things and I wouldn't be able to sleep much.
I like sleeping as much as possible now, just so I don't have to think about anything. A music that makes me want to smash stuff.... I just love it... it brings a smile to my face. And sitting around? I do everything in my power now to procrastinate. I don't want to do anything. And as much as nothing as possible. Fuck it, I don't have anywhere to be.
I was almost in a car accident again today. The car was moving at a speed of approx. 35 miles an hour. We approached an intersection with no stop sign.... i look over to my right as we are crossing and almost directing in front of my face was an ambulence. The only thing running through my head was 'they aren't stopping', but I couldn't even get the words out. My heart had stopped for a second. They didn't have a stop sign either. Isn't that dangerous? I think I'll call the city council tomorrow, or something in between my napping and tv time.
After I regained thought again, I laughed.
I would have been killed. dead. splat. You, on the other hand, just maybe would have had a fighting chance. I would have gotten the impact. My face would be splattered against that front grill.... and my brains, you ask? They'd be all over your face and your lap. Your clothes would reek of my insides.
I pictured this all. And lit a cigarette and resumed to thinking about nothing. No emotions. Where did they go? Did they grow feet? Even if I wanted to feel something, I don't know if I could. Nothing, nothingness... that can be an emotion, no?
I had just been released from CMC Hospital that day. After a week of having my head sliced open, being stitched and pieced back together, wrecked off meds, physical therapy, and shitty food that i refused to eat- I was ready to call Pennsylvania my home again.
I had placed the cards on the dresser. But not the one in the hallway. A little while had passed, I guess, and I noticed that they were missing. Did they grow feet? I had accused my boyfriend of the time for misplacing them. I made him route through garbage bag after garbage bag, and then the same ones again. I made him look all of the room with me. I don't know why it was such an issue to have that license. Maybe it was for physical evidence that once again, my life was being ripped apart, leaving me distroyed. Only this time, a busted face, road-rashed body, and complete fucked up ankle to tac on with nothing.
It's odd, you know. How our minds have the complete power to remember and not-want-to-remember things. Sometimes it's not even on purpose. I think back about when I lived in Vermont and the terrible car accident and three years of living with hell. At the time, he was my savior, my god. I would have done everything for him. Which I haven't figured out why, yet to this day. I was miserable when I was with him. I look back now, and I can't really remember good times or bad times with him. I can't really remember anything about it. I do recall a time when we first broke up. I thought I wouldn't be able to survive... to go on.....
Why do we all do that shit? We can survive alone. I don't hate him. I'm not trying to forget about all of it. I just don't care to think about it at all. I've been like that lately. I re-evaluate relationships after that, and I examine what I am going through now... And I want to stop thinking about it. So I did. It makes me sad. Because nothing every goes as planned.
But what are plans, anyway? Especially the ones that you don't fallow through with. They just turn into lost time that you don't ever look back on... cause everything seems so sad. You question yourself into your blue in the face on 'why didn't you stick with that, or why did you walk away from there early....?' And it makes me sick. I always think I choose the wrong way. But it doesn't matter. I am used to being kicked down. I now believe without all these obsticles that I try stepping forward from everyday my life would be boring. I would get tired of sitting around, listening to music that makes me want to fucking smash things and I wouldn't be able to sleep much.
I like sleeping as much as possible now, just so I don't have to think about anything. A music that makes me want to smash stuff.... I just love it... it brings a smile to my face. And sitting around? I do everything in my power now to procrastinate. I don't want to do anything. And as much as nothing as possible. Fuck it, I don't have anywhere to be.
I was almost in a car accident again today. The car was moving at a speed of approx. 35 miles an hour. We approached an intersection with no stop sign.... i look over to my right as we are crossing and almost directing in front of my face was an ambulence. The only thing running through my head was 'they aren't stopping', but I couldn't even get the words out. My heart had stopped for a second. They didn't have a stop sign either. Isn't that dangerous? I think I'll call the city council tomorrow, or something in between my napping and tv time.
After I regained thought again, I laughed.
I would have been killed. dead. splat. You, on the other hand, just maybe would have had a fighting chance. I would have gotten the impact. My face would be splattered against that front grill.... and my brains, you ask? They'd be all over your face and your lap. Your clothes would reek of my insides.
I pictured this all. And lit a cigarette and resumed to thinking about nothing. No emotions. Where did they go? Did they grow feet? Even if I wanted to feel something, I don't know if I could. Nothing, nothingness... that can be an emotion, no?
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![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")