In Memory of Cassandra

Women be wise, keep your mouth shut, don't advertise your man Don't sit around gossiping, explaining what your good man really can do Some women nowadays, Lord they ain't no good They will laugh in your face, Then try to steal your man from you Women be wise, keep your mouth shut, don't advertise your man Don't be no fool

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Here I am. There is a party going on around me, but I don't belong. In my own home I am a stranger, a bit of furniture that may stick out, but is not even a distraction. Here I am, making a personal space of the most public non-space in the world... maybe. I feel like shit. I can best describe my feelings and behavior as frantic, manic. My dad asked me tonight if he should be worried about me being suicidal. I am not. But I suppose I've experienced a different kind of dissociation. Talking to my friends about it was much easier (still practically impossible I doubt I made much sense) than talking to him. And even then I couldnt see him and say it.

I am doing the only thing I can do right now. I don't feel like I have to explain myself. I feel like I can't. How do you explain not being able to be with someone you love? All I know is that it doesnt feel right. And I could only hurt myself and him if I got back together when I don't know that it's the right thing to do. It's not like the first time, when holding hands was merely risking embarrassment, and not complete rejection.

I am not making sense, I cannot write poetry. I am not myself. I am surrounded by college freshman, but there is no way I can talk to them. I'm not even embarrassed, I just feel like I shouldnt be here. I don't want to talk to them, I don't want to be here. I don't have anywhere else to be though. I could drive somewhere. I could call someone. I could do a lot of things in theory. But in practice, nothing will do. I don't want to have another conversation about it, and yet I find every conversation leading me there.

I cut my hands on a broken picture frame. The paper in the frame actually said "Commitment phobic?" I shit you not. I cut up my newly manicured hands. I was manically cleaning the house, it now shines. however I have bandages on each hand. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe when I try to do something for myself, I'm bound to screw it up and hurt myself. I don't know where the shoebox with the shards of glass are. I hope they are far away, not because I think I would hurt myself on purpose, but because I feel like I got away easy with just a few scrapes on the surface, and yet absolutely destroyed inside.

I make no sense because I have no direction. Don't feel bad for me. I'm the bad guy.
and i'm suffering.

shut up and leave me alone.

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