Love is a Fool's Pursuit

Very rarely does anyone actually mean to hurt someone.
Especially when it is someone they love, or someone they care about deeply.

But it happens. In the silliest of ways. And in the most painful of ways.

Not because the intent was to hurt.

It just happens.

The wrong words, at the wrong time, usually.
Best intentions, other times.
Lack of communication, as well.
Many causes, one result.

The cynic in me feels like I just can not win.
The optimist in me runs on hope with a jolt of "someday."

Then all the other voices argue, and agree:
Never someday, better off alone, because love fucks you up, right when you think you are ok being alone; like a hurricane, like a storm, someday you'll fall like rain, someday, it'll be ok. Someday, I'll be gone and I won't fucking care about it anymore. Someday i'll be a believer. When you stop looking, it'll find you, you'll find it.

Love is worth it...Really, trust me on this.

Depression

For me, It isn't sadness. It isn't waking up and wanting to cry.
It's waking up tired. It's waking up, too tired to cry.
It's waking up and thinking about the things you want, and only seeing how unreasonable and far those things are from you.
It's waking up with goals, but being too tired to follow them through.

Depression, sucks.
Depression isn't necessarily wanting to kill yourself.
It's being convinced that if you died, or just faded away, nothing would be really different.

And hope hurts, because you lack the strength to do much of anything.
So much effort, for the littlest things.

I'm not depressed like most people. I'm not depressed like some people. But I guess we all get depressed, in our own ways. And we have our ways of coping, or forgetting.

Not everyone self destructs in the same way.

Some people it's easy to help, because the problem is apparent. Snatch away the bottle, the needle, the porn, the objects of abuse. The people who they abuse. The things they blame. Forcing them to confront themselves, because they have no choice.

But it's different for me. I have no obvious problems. At least, nothing we have a cure for. When life is stacked against me, I am ground down just a little more.
Paranoia and distrust, do nothing to help me ask for help, not that it matters because I do not know how to be helped.
Because I look fine. I'm not addicted to anything. I'm not killing myself by inches with anything clinical professionals diagnose and rehabilitate frequently.

I can't explain, how hopeless I feel. How tired I feel. How, even the smallest bit of hope seems so far away, because I lack the strength to grasp it. When the things I want seem so far away, with the odds stacked against me.

That's what depression is for me. Or rather, just a slice.
Can't ask for help because you don't know how anyone else can help.
And everyone is just waiting for you to ask. That's painful.

I need time to sort things out.

Bulletproof

Bulletproof means I can't die.
Bulletproof means it will still hurt.
Bulletproof means another chance.
Bulletproof means someone has a bullet with my name on it someplace.
Bulletproof means if not today, tomorrow.
Bulletproof means I'm going to need a gun too.
Bulletproof means defense.
Bulletproof means expecting problems.

I'm Bulletproof. Usually.
I'm Bulletproof. When you aren't shooting.

I'm Bulletproof. When you can't.
I'm Bulletproof. When I smile.
I'm Bulletproof. Right now.
I'm Bulletproof. When I'm Pure.
I'm Bulletproof. Because I'm a Joker.


I'm Bulletproof, when I know I'm not.

The Animus Locus

Slab. perfectly square. raised from the sand.
Blink.
Darkness. Pale, blue illumination. Twilight of the hypercerptive mind.
Thought. Question. Next?

Animus Locus Muto:

Slab, perfectly square, raised from the sand, in front of my feet, upon the slab, upon the sand. Three.
Blink.
Thought: Question: Path?
Blink.

Animus Locus Muto.

Slabs. Perfectly square, raised from the sand, in front of my feet, as far as the eye can see.
Plenty of paths.
Plenty of choices
Plenty of time.

Blink.

Crystal Ice Cloud Queen

I first spotted her as I rode by in a car. It's sunday; the long thing she was wearing looked like a dress, her shoes kind of strange, and her hair blonde and messy.
"Look a church goer."

Ensuing debate of "bathrobe" and "walk of shame" 2pm on a Sunday.

Exit: Car. Enter: 7-11.
Engage staff, and candy.
Exit: 7-11. Enter: Car.

Examine: The Junkie.

Detail: Orange "clog" style shoes. "High fashion" long knit sweater. Robe style? Shorts, blue t-shirt.

Detail: Marks on her face. Marks on arms.
Possible indication: meth use. Sores resulting from exposure to caustic chemicals, as well as "meth mites."

Detail: on phone: Conversation snippet: "just so you know..."
Behavior: turning away from prying eyes.
Behavior: arms wrapped across self. Defensive, closed, frightened.
Behavior: constant movement. Turns back and moves to have back against wall.
End: Phone call. Hunching down, staring at phone.
Emotional response: tired, hopeless, lost, frightened.

She used to be pretty. She sold her beauty for a hit or twelve, for that little extra euphoria, that little extra bit of self esteem, that little bit extra high.
Victim, and abuser, going to hell in her own style. Forsaking the life, for the high. A nihilist addict; nothing matters, not even the next high, but if I can get the next high, I won't care that nothing matters. Not even the next high...

I understand escaping into madness, to escape hopelessness. I pretend I'm crazy, and pretend I'm just dysfunctional and fucked up and just limping along through life. "I'm broken, and I'll still make it," is more comfort than feeling hopeless; "I'm not sure I can make it."

Frightening to look at an addict, and see something of them in you. To see their route of escape in a little crystal, in a needle, in a pill. Escape from hopelessness? Or into it?

Incredible compassion to look at an addict, and understand some of their pain.

Thank something I don't do meth...

Best wishes to you. Good luck, and may your pain abate.

Things I Need to Remember

I have the power to change.
The very notion of perfection, is flawed.
Do what is good for yourself, and if that happens to be good for others, so be it.
Self Sacrifice is not necessary to be a good person.
Bad Things Happen To Good People.
It is okay to be weak until you find the strength again.
Do not try to change anyone. Support people in their decisions to change.

Addendum:
Worrying about what is next, will make now mean less.

To be continued? If I remember something else I need to remember, of course.

The Dust

The Dust
Will continue
To settle
Long after
The building
Stops shaking.