Midnight - Feb. 18, 2005
Not a good goodbye
18Feb 05 Friday
I can make myself so crazy. Damn burning in this gut of mine. Am I fasting? Repenting? Is this my Lenten penance? The pain feels like hunger, but I know better. Everything inside me turns liquid and I feel my life dripping, slowly leaking, out of me. I feel and hear the anger of a belly turning over rocks, searching. For what? I hear the pain yelling its anger at me, yet I am silent in this quiet cocoon. I find myself obsessing, focusing on every little thing that I have no control over ~ the past, this path ~ none of it. Yet I stare at it, deeper & deeper, looking at the nothingness, questioning it. Is it really my imagination, playing tricks on me? My own insecurities & past struggles find their way into my present. I want to leave them where they are. So, why can�t I?
I don�t want this grey cloud looming over my head any longer. I don�t want to feed the beast of doubt.
I can make myself sick. I can think myself into silence.
Looking around this room, I feel a sadness in my heart, of letting you go the way that I did; putting you on a plane with a frown and only a little kiss. I feel sad, seeing your shoes on the floor, amidst a pile of your dirty socks. These little things about you ~ I love them. I smile at myself, laughing a bit at the fact that I prefer to leave your socks right where they are. It is as if some magical force of you placing them there yesterday brings you back to being here today.
Cigarettes in an ash tray, half a bottle of beer left unfinished, I know you won�t be home tonight and I feel it all around me. I wish you were here with me. Instead, you�re headed to Iraq and I won�t be seeing you for a couple of weeks�
