2004-07-16
Oh Bright Eyes

hearing: Lancaster PA - The Beautiful Mistake
reading: The Count Of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, and Java 2 For The World Wide Web: Visual Quickstart Guide by Dori Smith
wearing: pjs and a distant look

Rather then settling in bed to sleep peacefully and contentedly, or devouring The Count of Monte Cristo; I was up, sitting at my computer, contemplating a quick email.

But, of course, I got sidetracked a million times. Indifferently scanning message boards, diary review sites, and eventually, coming to cast my eyes over past emails. And soon it switched over to a different inbox. And then it was the folder in my computer. And then it was the pencil box of papers...(I have the habit of printing out emails when I don't want to sit at my computer to read them. And then I don't bother to throw most of them out. I save them.)

Some of them crumpled.

I remember that night. Screaming and crying and railing at him in the dark. Scattering the papers across the floor. Jumping up and down on them. Screaming at them again. Taking up certain papers. Reading them over, and the tears came rushing faster and swifter as my eyes narrowed and I yelled in the dark how things could not be so. How I did not believe in the verity of the words they held. And then the anger and desperation and passions of feeling would well up to be overbearing. But I could not bear to rip the papers. I could only crumple. And throw them at the floor with an immense violence and a painful shriek of anger and disappointment.

That was quite a night. That was three weeks ago now.

It wasn't a turning point. It wasn't terribly pivotal. But that night sticks out in my mind so sharply. And everything I felt. I remember every time I open that box of papers, and the crumpled papers burst it open impatiently and spill all the others out.

Yet it isn't that night that revolves so central in my mind. Its the words on the pages. On the screen. Gathered in the inbox. The world spins differently. And tears well up. And sharp stabs of pain streak through. If I ever doubt this numbness, I have only to lift up certain papers, open certain mails, I don't have them memorized. I do not believe so. I will not let myself. But I know which to open depending on what I wish to read. And then, then, my numbness is shed. Just for such a small time. Before I lay everything aside again and turn to other things.

I'm slowly shutting things off. Slowly extinguishing. Or perhaps, its quickly. Looking back, everything has moved quickly...in a slow manner. It seems a contradiction. But it isn't. Everything has moved very quickly, yet seemed to go incredibly slow and long.

As it shall be again. A quick flick of a wrist. A slight blink, and suddenly, it's all disappeared. It's all dissipated into the blue. Until mementos of the past are uplifted and laid eyes on. Then it comes rushing back. A flood to drown. Of too many things. And too much pain.

Perhaps I shut it out, perhaps the numbness is there, because I don't want it to be true. I don't want to believe it. I won't. I live in denial. I turn my back.

While it all escapes.

As it should.

Nothing ever stays the same.

I didn't bring this up because I wanted to talk about it. I don't expect anything to be said in reply. I'm just working through. I'm just sorting myself out. I'm just trying to pick through my feelings. For myself at least.

I think I need to go have a bonfire now.

Alright. I have entirely seperated myself from this again and returned to the real world. I can go sleep now without a qualm.

(Really? Without a qualm? Are you sure? So maybe that was a lie...)

Two highlighted lyrics from all the song shuffling/favorite lyric game playing I've been doing lately:

I Drive A Lot - Starflyer 59 "When I'm all worked up I think of friends of mine now 35"

Lancaster PA � The Beautiful Mistake "My alcoholic afternoons and sleepless prozac nights. " or �you weren�t like the others with their empty eyes and plastic smiles�

before & & after