After almost a week, I feel good again. At one point I wouldn't have dared dream that I would feel this way so soon. At one point, this feeling seemed months away. But somehow it all came through. We came out the other side.

I have to admit, tonight I tried to find words that were written someplace. But I couldn't find them. So I remember them - and they make me feel good. Words like I wrote, but she found those. I hope that some nights they make her feel good - when I cannot be there.

You pussies.
Maybe it was just because I was afraid I'd end up just the same.
Now I stare at my phone.
Message from the desperate. That's me.
Broken beautiful things.
Lets sleep now. The morning will be here soon.
It's not the light, but when you leave without me.
I'm still here.
Building our sickness.
And cure each other.

I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I feel like I was blindfolded and now I am swinging at anything that I can feel close by, and hitting the wrong targets the entire time. It's all just collateral damage. The bad guy gets away; friends and allies are lying on the ground and it's my fault.

What can I do now?

I didn't know who she was, where she had come from. The kid. A straggler. A third.
Preoccupied with boundaries and mysteries.
Thankful to talk to her between the cancer. To give her a light.
More between us than we knew.
The show ended. Turn in. A night to look.
It started there. Fractured and fragmented and on the edge.
Trust defined rare.
Risking it all, once again.
One year ago.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of this place. I was supposed to be back in Chicago 4 months ago.

I am supposed to be back in Chicago 2 months from now.

Didn't happen. Not going to. The past few days, however, have reminded me just how miserable I actually feel right now. I had sort of lulled myself into thinking that this was working. Basically I talked myself into being comfortable with circumstance. Circumstances didn't change or get better, I just made myself believe it was okay. But it's not okay. Not at all.

I just feel anxious all the time now. The buckets of coffee I'm drinking don't help. But I don't feel comfortable with anything, but I don't have any alternatives right now. So here I am. Waiting.

Maybe this is a good thing. Perhaps the realization that I've been fooling myself into thinking any of this was acceptable is actually what I needed. I feel like I hit rock bottom, or just my version of rock bottom. I'm not blowing business men in the bathroom for 5 bucks to score meth. But wallowing in limbo is enough of a personal letdown that I might as well be.

So it goes.

You wager it all, and the house wins anyway. Put out the marker, and it's time to collect.
How quickly value fades while you're not looking. Years swept away in a matter of months, days, hours.
Pick it up. Get on with it. Get over it.

Ignore it. Give up.



I hope you read this.
You fucking coward.