holy father (2)

i was a confirmation sponsor for my cousin, which is just really funny if u know me. i walked into the church and down to the school cafeteria where we were meeting and lining up to be 'touched by the holy spirit'. the religion teacher in charge of this lovely catholic tradition, who was a real bitch, said some words and then welcomed the priest. i looked at him and felt sick. it was him. of course it was him. st. gerad magellens pastor. eds parish. one of the priests at the funeral. he came up to me afterwards and said, 'your ed's niece, right? you were the one that took care of him?' 'yes, (but i didnt do quite a good enough job, did i?). its good to see you'.

let the fun begin (1)

i was laying in bed at my old apartment, hungover and cutting the shit out of myself. my mom called. 'he is a lot worse. they don't know exactly what is wrong with him but he is acting crazy and judith can't/shouldn't handle it herself, can u go down earlier?' 'i will call you right back'. it was 10am.
the airlines are surprisingly nice when you tell them your father is dying of cancer and you need to get down to MD Anderson asap. my flight that was suppossed to leave Aug 8th was now leaving on July 24th at 9pm.
i packed. called jody. a little relieved i was going to get away from the consuming guilty feeling of knowing i was using her and wanted it to end long b4. little did i know i would be entering a much more guilt filled horrible situation that ive been trying to claw my way back since

all at once

i dont know what to do. i am being pulled in all directions and i'm not going to make it. i keep doing things to put off this inevitable breakdown. its going to end bad bc i cant deal with each thing as they come. its too much. i feel it, and then i run or drink or work out for 5 hours or starve or cut or......but then it all comes down. it feels like a building collasping on top of me. when will this stop. i cant breathe. i cant see. i want to end this. its not worth it. it never was.

fuck

alone, overwhelming, veiled, stuck in a glass bubble where the world is distorted feeling is consuming me and I'm not sure what to do about. With every step, someone's yanking the rug out from under me and I don't know if I can regain my balance this time. I just want to crawl in bed and stay there for months. but only if there is something sharp in reach. oh, not again, and again and again. but it is the only thing that gets me through. better than the alternative, right? I'm going to shatter into a million pieces next time I get shaken. and i feel like i am all alone in this. and i deserve that. i'm breaking. composure gone. I'm done.

i tried. i really did.

i can hear the sound sadtrack mind in my play
its not loud enough. it sounds red but not red enough. can you hear it?
no you can't. turn me to ice so i can feel nothing just like you. shovel the dirt to fill this hole. shallow emotive please.
moderation is excess somewhere/don't deserve any more than the least that i get\
running but they are passing me. everythings passing me
when nothing is in sight i can't even question
because it was me who did this.

it was a good go, i guess

if i would have known that was going to be your response, i would not have gone there. I rather be suffering silently than to know you feel like its effort to be around me. i would do anything for you and i cant bear the thought or handle the fact i have been a burden on you. preventing someone that i care about tremendously from feeling like that, well, that is the sole reason i normally do this alone. i should have known better and known what would be the result of me reaching out. if it was a choice of me getting help and not getting help, i rather not be getting help if it meant you didnt feel this way.
how do we as humans handle that line. who are we without other people? but in the end as Glen Hansard says

"Cry alone, and die alone
Pray alone, and stay alone
Drown out.. drown out.."

we are alone. anything else is just an illusion to make ourselves feel better. strings are attached, contingencies are implemented. and i am done. i'm back to living this facade, dropping in and out of life, staying far away from everyone. do i really want that? no, but i cant take doing this to anyone ever again. and i cant guarantee that it won't happen again. i won't do that to you.
it was never my intention to do this but it doesnt matter because its already been done.

and in all the hungers...

at times a man growing old
plays with a knife
On its edge
the stars shake pitifully

Perhaps he loves this more
than anything in the world
because it can inflict
severe woulds on time

If he turns the night darker
and the silence deeper
it's because the wind
doesnt like him touching it
and because the earth is afraid
at the power of his feeling

A man growing older
is lost in all the forces
he thinks he knows everything about
and in all the hungers
that have sucked away his tenderness

It gets lonely
when the rain doesn't wet him
Lonlier too
when he can't find his way out
of this hour
where sleep
cannot reach

Memory's thousand shapes
seek him out:
an old letter
from a girl long gone
is a door
into the world of nightmares

Because he is afraid
of what he wants to bring into being

And when the man growing old
plucks a flower
he is surprised
at the little darkness
limping out of the bushes

Shadows pass through him

And on the edge of the knife
the bewildered light
merely appears to frown
at a play of fortune
it doesn't understand.