...and then some more

it is such a dark night. while there is so so much to say, nothing will extricate itself from our stubborn need to open the vault. there is wide spread panic, and while we've pulled through before, things are out of reach, out of control, out of time. we are lost. there is no music, no words, no insides, nothing to connect us to life.

we are in a dangerous place. we've been here before, underneath the bell jar that stole Sylvia. we are under the water, drowning, and OH! how embarrassing. how many times do we have to revisit the same dumping ground that reclaims us and spits us back out. even hell doesn't want us.

mark the finality. it's a dark secret, and you walk the halls and wonder if people realize the treasure you have in your pockets, that you can take something away from them they may want, something you tried to want, but didn't work out for you.

ALERT!!!! To all therapists: just because a patient mentions things that he or she would like to have in ones life does NOT indicate hope. You should be more fearful for their safety. There is NOTHING, almost nothing, worse than wanting something i can't have and knowing i will never be able to achieve or possess it.

yes, we are in a precarious position. what will the insiders do? who is the strongest?

it was the afternoon. we were walking the halls and realized we couldn't remember this morning. d. mentions a conversation he says we had recently, an extremely an important conversation. New clothes, piercing I don't know. Don't belong to me. I can't live split in to tiny fragments like this. I don't know who I am?

And the thought that brings comfort brings shame. why should it? you are just a person in an extraordinary amount of pain. But it's pain that is getting worse. I wanted the pain to go away, not intensify. I can't deal, cope, manage. everything is a struggle and no one can do anything about it. for one day, i would like to be free of this. for one day, i would like someone to take care of the me's.

i feel like a loser. so out of control. i didn't exercise today. i was too depressed. and i feel so lonely that i can't even finish that statement. if someone knew. if more than someone knew. if people asked and genuinely wanted to know how "i" am.. i am not okay. suffering of the worst kind imaginable.

are we there yet? if a hug could only take it away.

i feel ugly, loathsome, hideous, scary, revolting, ostracized, and just plain outcast. I don't i don't I don't feel a part of anything. there is no connection to me and this world. nothing to hold on to, nothing that tells me i was here.

i admit it, we have dissociative identity disorder. it doesn't change anything. i am so stuck and i don't want to try anymore. i won't say that anymore.

my spell check doesn't work and my eyes are closed. how many mistakes?

bar-b-cue, roses, shed, sunflower clock, bobbly GA head doll, concert tickets, cards, extra long twin beds, two windows with pull down shades, a t.v., hard carpet, stereo, the coke bottle. these were all in the grandparent's house, most in both uncles's room. i hate them both. just like i hate me. but i hate me worse, because i'm still alive. at least one has the graciousness to be dead.