weepingwillow

I'm sitting here writing tonight with black stiletto nails. It's hard to type.

They are pretty, feminine, a little painful, and remind me of days long gone when I would get my nails done to look beautiful and well put together for the public eye and to make myself feel pretty.

Now

I got stiletto nails done to celebrate with a friend on her well-earned celebration. The thought that pervaded my mind when I chose the shape for my nails today was... man the cats are going to love this. I am going to be the scratch queen. I lot of my adult decisions are made with my cats in mind. They are my companions and they depend on me. So I am responsible for them. I am a cat lady. I'm ok with that. But

I've decided to love him again. So now things will change. Things have already changed. My heart is feeling something. I am scared for my heart. There's not much left that's any good for anyone. But he deserves as much and I am lonely.

There are consequences to my actions. But I don't have much life left and I want to be loved. And he does love me. He always has. He hates me too. I know this. He should. I wanted him to. But if something happens to me it will kill the last light of hope in him. He doesn't deserve that.

I have decided to love him again and it's going to kill him in the last way that he is alive.

I am selfish I am evil I should... But I won't.

My family will hate him. My neighbors will hate him The world hates him.

Now I won't be invisible. I will be hated too. I deserve that. But my loved ones do not.

I am selfish I am evil I should... But I won't.

She is my muse. I love her like an artist loves inspiration. I'm just not a very good artist.

The sun is shining today. I feel the rays soak into my cold bones.

It gives me life. My stalks are dry and brittle, however, the sun soaks in and softens me with ease.

I have a day of rest. Rest form the weary sad thoughts that are all the time too prevalent in my mind.

Today I can think about growing and standing tall and letting love and light shine into my dried-up soul. I'm thankful for the sun today.

I feel alone today. I value my independence and solitary lifestyle more than I should.

So normally being alone does not affect me in a way that makes me sad.
Today I was overcome with the kind of sad that makes you ache in the back of your throat as if you are holding back a sob.

I hate that feeling. There is really nothing to make it better except to allow time to pass and let the feeling fade away.

But for a few moments today I couldn't breathe because of this feeling. It came on sudden and strong. Thankfully it also receded quickly. It was an ocean wave of grief for my missing love.

I want to be able to give the love I have to someone in this life. A partner. I want to receive love in return. I am lucky enough to have had something like this in my life once already. So I know what it is I am missing.

Not perfect love. There is no such thing.

Just love that is genuine and unencumbered by selfish desire. Love because they feel it as much as they want to give it.

I want to feel warm again.

Alas, poison cannot be loved, only consumed.

A generation or two away from where I might have been had I better minds to mind my mind.

Still, I sit and walk through their dreams contemplating what might have been.

I will hold onto this day and this me. But I will wonder as I dream-walk through brighter minds minded better than mine. Sept25 18 Ithica -S

I no longer understand being afraid of the dark.

The dark is where all the bad things are hidden safely away.

Those seeking the light stay away from the dark, in which my soul finds it's comfort, and torment. Fear and torment are good friends but nothing alike.

I can imagine there are many things that would terrify me if I could see them in the light.

However, as they dwell here with me I am not afraid. I can't see them and they can't see me.
In reality, we those of us who dwell here, are just scared of what we do not want to see. Ourselves, reality... Maybe

We dance together here alone in the dark.

There is no love but for the love of the dark – there is no hate but for the hate of the dark There is only this black existence, and the long walk to find a ladder to the light.

This black and suffocating space that keeps us safe. That lets us wait.

The waiting never sleeps.

I wish I knew what I was waiting for.

Waiting for someone to come.

Waiting for someone to go.

Waiting for a brain to heal from a wound that breeds cancer which feeds on the dark.

So here I stay. Put in my place. No more ladders to the light for me.

What becomes of me when I am consumed completely?

Maybe that's when I get to sleep.

There is a club where I am from called Black Sheep.

17 years ago I met my Ex-Partner in this club on fetish night, wrapped in a duck tape corset with my good friend, who was with her boyfriend, who had her on a leash.

We were sitting on a raised platform next to a girl strapped to a cross getting hot wax poured on her nipples by a priest.

Today I was scrolling through Facebook, and a friend was asking if anyone was going to a Sene-meetup she planned to attend there. (It's like a makeup company) As I was scrolling through the many comments ( all very vanilla) a woman popped on and asked if she could bring her 4-year-old. To which my friend replied “Black Sheep is great for kids! They have games and a kids corner”

I wondered if it was the same corner the girl was strapped to the cross in 17 years ago.

My, my, how time changes the Black Sheep. Not so black anymore.

Anhedonia

Imagine eating pus covered glass. That's where my appetite is at.

There is no comfort in my comforter today. This is new as I am never without a desire to fill the void that feels like my heart.

My depression is comforted by food. Full is happy and content. Till the cycle begins again.

I am empty.

Music allows me to fall into, rise above, and exist in the space that I choose to be. Music is like air for me. Everything is grating.

I am suffocating.

When I paint my very soul pours from the veins that feed the hands. I can't stop trying to replace the brush with the razor blade.

I'm bleeding.

The desire to be, create, feel, or consume has departed. Why didn't it take me?

Her note.

More often than not I wake up and my first thought is a desire to die. Suicidal ideation has been my constant companion these 34 of 41 years. The moment I knew of death, I wanted it. I never thought I would make it past any benchmark age. My mind always told me I would be gone by then. Can you imagine waiting to die your whole life? Can you imagine telling anyone about it? Even as I sit here now I can see that there were times I should have gone. I should have been brave. I would have been better off. People would have been better off. I would have been loved more in memory then.

Now I am destined to be pitied as a 40 something unattractive, untalented loss to no one, save a brave few who loved me always... regardless. The love I never deserved. The love I will carry with me to my selfish end. I'm so thankful for it.

I know my brain is ill. I know there are different choices that can be made, different paths to be taken. I'm tired. I want to sleep. I want to go to sleep in peace. Not wake up again to a desire I won't allow myself to fulfill, till I go to sleep with the promise of a new day of pain.

Even with all the other beauty and promise this brain holds, and I acknowledge there is so much. I can find it, I can see, taste, hear, smell, and feel it. I can never hold it though. It is fleeting. I can be strong and brave and smart and talented and able to give so much love till it takes me away to where I can no longer fall into this lightless void of pain.

I tell myself this.
However... My reality is

I can only watch what might have been. What promise I have had. What brave ideas and opinions I might have shared.

That is the torture that I can no longer hold.

I can let go of what might have been now because it's all too late.

Scientifically speaking I know I am on my way out anyway.

I won't be a bourdon anymore than I already have. Age makes me weak.

Some tomorrow there are those who will wake up with shoulders that are lighter. Thank you so much for all your love. You feel lighter because you know I am no longer in any pain.

I'm am sorry for the sadness though. I hope it fades quickly. That is my greatest hope.

It's ok to feel better.

It's ok.

Today I woke up with my note. Yesterday with my purpose, and some tomorrow not so far away I will have my rest.

I can only be whole in my dreams. I can make love, paint my masterpiece, give all I have ever wanted to give, and be the whole person I know is within me.

Only in my dreams.

So soon I will take my leave and go to sleep. Sleep to dream, maybe there I will be allowed to live as I envisioned my life to be. Nothing grand just a choice made and followed. Seems simple, but it's impossible for me.

Even if I am dust. That is all I will be. I'm thankful for that.

For now, I will try to live within the walls that are me. Time to clean

Depression, the gravity that holds me to the pain that has always been my normal. No other gravity has been strong enough to pull me away. It is my black hole. Maybe there, gravity will leave me alone. Maybe then I can be free. Stormey