Desert Sand Mica

Whatever, just crash it Bob...


Blog, i want to blog. Seems that it has been in the back of my mind to write, but everything just comes out like poison. Maybe I am ready to put some actual vocabulary to my angst. I dunno, 5 minutes after I just wrote that last sentence, I am still sitting here, thinking. What do I want to say? what can I say? Life blows? Umm, when life gives you lemons make lemonade? God, is that trite or fucking what. Well, I am definately not making lemonade, but I am just beginning to feel the very slightest bit better. Not a lot, a tiny...tiny...teensy bit. It's different than usual, should this feel "usual" at all? Should this be something I am so used to that I can compare each time to the last? Now that ladies and gentleman is pathetic. Anyway, when this has happened before, I have either blocked out how incredbily horrible it was, or I am coping much better now. I think it's both. I try to think back to the worst of it, last July...and I remember bits and pieces of certain in particular, the "tami" Saturday we'll call it. That was one of the three worst days of my life. That's when the dream first shattered. But the chinks in the armor werent showing then, like they are now. And yet here I sit today, still spit polishing the chinks so they dont show to the world so much. God, I am into analogies right now. The whole Michele/bonbon analogy was so prophetic last night. Anyway, I feel more positive energy, more strength, more resolve. I hope it's not just bad pizza. I feel like I've almost reached the road. Man..reaching the road. That has been my own personal analogy for so long. Im going to describe it in detail, so i never forget how I compared the horribleness of things to crawling to the road.
My Crawling to the Road Analogy
I picture the first part of the horribleness, whatever it is... as crawling over big jagged rocks sprinkled with broken glass on my hands and bare knees. It's like it's so excruciating, but you just have to GO. Then soon there's no glass, but still crawling over big jagged rocks..then the trek evens out a little and the rocks are smaller, eventually becoming smooth flat pebbles. Your arms and legs ache, hands and knees speckled with bleeding wounds. But the road...the road I need to get to - is just up ahead. I can picture the last leg of the trek, up a hill on the smooth flat pebbles. I'll often think about where I am on my way to the road when I am in the middle of crises. Right now, I'm almost to the hill. I can hear the road, but I cant see it yet. God, am I a total weirdo or what? Funny, that little aspect of me that analogizes (word..or no?) where I am in my healing.

I dont know if I am staying up late lately because I really am doin stuff, or if i am afraid to go to sleep. Ive always been the type of depression ridden adult that likes to stay awake during bouts, rather than crawling under the covers. I dont like the feeling you get when you wake up and everything sucks, so think I'd just rather stay awake. Lately there has been good reason in malcolm, but irregardless, I need more sleep. Listened to just a little bit of music today. I actually have a file of mp3's at work called "safe". That means that they are relatively safe emotionless songs. Had to turn a couple of songs off the radio, but did have it on, at least. That is a marked improvement from yesterday.

Ok, so where am I. What am I trying so desperately to say. I am not feeling normal, but I am remembering what normal feels like.


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