Wednesday, September 9, 2009

The pain from the last 45 hours ebbs and flows. Some moments I want to slice out my insides; I imagine the details of it; I've experienced it before and remember it just as clearly as any episode of any show that I've ever loved. Other moments I crave clove cigarettes. One moment I was tempted to get drunk...just sit in my room and drink the liquor we keep downstairs but never touch. That would certainly be a new food experience for me. I want to go for a walk...or possibly a run. I want to lay down and sleep, as I've not done so for more than an hour a two in nearly 2 days time. I have no appetite, and for the first time in my life, that bothers me.

I was able to keep a Boost down with no problem, which was a good sign. It was also a godsend as the Boost washed down the Midrin, which I took the right dose of to kill the headache that was brewing...not enough to even risk dying in my own puke. The midrin killed the pain in my head and allowed me this mellowness.

I took a hot shower. I scrubbed with the bodywash that Michael bought me. I shaved recklessly, as if daring myself to bleed; nobody could blame me for a scratch or two on my scalp...and I rather like the burn of alcohol on fresh wounds. I used to be a cutter. I think it stopped in 1996. I used to carry a razor with me, that Mark took from me. It was the razor I used the first time I tried to kill myself. It's a happy memory now, but I don't miss it at all. It was a shitty bitty bic razor blade. lol

When the hot water was gone I dryed off and went over everything with a razor again; dry; no water or shaving cream. No cuts though, which I find oddly amusing. As I shaved I imagined killing myself after creating a living will and sending "The Thief of Always" to Mollie, with a note apologising for not being a stronger or better friend. I almost shed a tear that time.

As I flossed my teeth (a habit I've not been in for a long while) I started feeling like LIVING well might be the way to go. Keep eating the right foods; floss; brush; run...but never date. Just the act of flossing and brushing inspires lurid, lush fantasy time today.

My voice is ruined. When I speak I sound like a broken doll. I like it I think. It's a wretched sound that reflects what's going on inside my healthy looking body. You can see it in my red rimmed eyes though. This boy is on the verge... I almost erased the word boy and wrote man, thinking I'm much too old to be referred to as a boy...but the word man doesn't quite seem to capture me.

I know it's horribly pathetic, but I don't want to lose Michael. I don't. He could still tell the truth. He could still save something of what we were, while transforming us into something else. But I feel all of that slipping away. I told him about my crazy thoughts earlier and he's worried now; he wants to see me. It's like I've gone completely insane, and he's the lovely actor who will save me at the end of the movie. But the movies end...and then we walk away from them, even if we never forget.

I want to see Michael finish Battlestar Galactica, and watch Doctor Who, and Dollhouse, and Superman: The Animated Series.

I don't want to do without his cuddles, even if I love the feel of my big empty bed.

I don't feel like I'll ever trust another man ever again. I know that's what one expects to hear in such situations, but I really don't. I've been here so many times, and I just think I'm starting to learn my lesson. But then seconds roll by and I imagine myself healthy and happy, and possibly dating some random guy I've never even met yet. See...I've been here before and I know these feelings might fade away until I've forgotton how much love hurts. Like those women that give birth and then forget the horrors of labor.

Moments pass and I feel liberated. I can do whatever I want. I'm not talking about fucking strangers. I can read my 'Giovanni's Room' in the diag. I can run and laugh and play and sing and dance and be exactly what I want to be and I don't have to feel this aching death vibration ringing out from within my pores. I can smile.

But it's just not that easy.

   posted by Bald Jason at 12:23 PM
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