Not down on myself, just sad.

I have to find better ways of occupying my down time. My time, what a bankrupt idea [pun intended]. As if I've been given that empty box but this turn it's full of time. Belonging to me alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that I cannot spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what I do with it.

I am already shaking from too much caffeine. Is it the caffeine?

There was a time when I told myself that I had to forge ahead the best way I could. I'd lie awake in bed and thought I had to stop berating myself, bemoaning my fait. Berating, bemoaning, useful words. Doldrums. Lovelorn. Leman. Forsaken. People kept their distance and averted their eyes while I crammed contemptible alienation into my self worth. So I did forge ahead. I forged and I forged, I poured out my own coffee in the morning into the kitchen sink staring out the kitchen window at the neighbors siding. I put the dishes in the dishwasher when I remembered, and after a few months of forging I lost my worthlessness intent. Out of self-protection I tried very hard to conceal the intricacies of myself to no avail. I displayed myself to be piteous. After a decent interval, underneath you could tell that I wasn't feeling too shabby, now that the worst was over. I began singing in the shower while I shaved. I shaved more. I didn't feel invisible anymore. Not that I didn't want to feel anything else. I was slowly building up some anewed gratitude and some long lost equity.

August 8 2007; gelert said...
I can still hear your voice, deep in my soul. I've been trying to ignore it, drown it out, but I can't and I'm tired of fighting it. Just as a piece of me remains in you, a piece of your soul remains in me... forever.

Enter Gelert...why does he torment me so? Why can’t I stop reading his words? He makes my heart collapse, my eyes close. Is there a faint stirring? His words reverberate in my ears as if he had spoken them to me. I have to take a breath to read then stare at his palable intoxicating words for a long while. I decided that it is not the antidote I begged for. I felt that he was hooking me once again, landing me and leaving me gasping. I'm just wondering when he'll throw me back like a shore fish, or a species too paltry and tasteless to have been coveted-to be sold for the extermination process...pig food. Maybe a bottom feeder...white slippery scales and pimply with toxins.

Ya, a little forlorn today. I intensely yearn to hear his voice. Images of him remain dear and playfull however, my relationship remains contused in my heart as I feel I have sabotaged the very thing I wanted most.

Gelert...I wish you were here and we could sit on the sofa and fabricate tinfoil hats to the gods wearing 3D glasses.

Teresa