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November

November. November. November.

This is the season of pain. The season of loss. The season of absolute agony.

This time of year. The depression is here. Depression; though comforting is cruel. She is truly a mistress of madness.

November is death. November remembers all that it has claimed.

This morning I could feel one more piece of my mind slip away from me. One more piece of happiness drift away like smoke in a damp sky. In it’s place is now another little black hole. My mind is covered with little black holes. All of the memories come back in November. My month of misery. It took me years and years to drink away the memories. In the process I took out the good ones to destroy the bad ones. Now just hundreds of little black holes. Soon I will be a black hole.

Will I survive this one? Will I collapse on myself like a dying star?

I am tired of pretending I am something I am not. Only one person knows me and only two people care. It is my own fault. My evasive lies and manipulative self expression are all false.

Who would want to see this? I have wasted too much energy hiding myself, masking myself and covering my tracks. Now I have no idea who I am.

But it is November. What will she claim this year? What will she rip from my spirit? What will she spit to the floor as she washes her hands of me?

Maybe she has come for my broken heart. My mind is filled with too many holes now. She will not accept it.

Will I survive as she rips my broken heart from my soul?

November, you cruel bitch you. How I have missed you.

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Mom

Why did we part ways?

I am here. You are here.

Why do we divide?

There was Him. There was Robert.

Did we not live him?

Did you and I not coil around him like dunes eat water?

Did we not both beg of him for Enya and oysters?

Why did he leave?

Did we exhaust him so?

I would never believe that of him.

As we can never lay him down. I wonder if he always knew.

He stays silent in our dreams. Never speaking.

I wonder.

Is he binding us?

Did he always know?

If he had stayed would this be so?

Our life. Together.

Why does he not speak in our dreams?

You cannot return him to me. I cannot return him to you.

MOM?

Stay with me?

If we stick together we have a better chance.

You and me.

Stay with me. If you lose me then I lose you and we are both desert lost.

Stay with me. I will stay with you.

Maybe then he will talk to us again.

Take my hand and we will both go back to the desert. You and me. US. We will live in the dunes and dream of cats and wild things. Come with me. We are all that is left. We are desert bound.

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Fletch Lives!

I just had a very LARGE breakthrough. Dispolar Biorder still holds true. However if you know me you know I am very… sensitive.

Tonight, after seven years, my husband managed to track down a soundtrack for me. I love the movie the soundtrack comes from, it was an old family movie (Fletch). My mom and dad use to watch this movie all the time. These memories I have been “hiding” are not of rape, not of pain, not of destruction. The memories I have been hiding are of my family and this soundtrack reminded me of all the days I lived unafraid and whole. All my days as a protected dreamer. Yes, my mom stroked my head and we barbecued and so much more.

Fire works on my birthday… My dad coming home to us… So much joy.

The three of us. We really kicked ass. I have been hiding the good memories. I have been hiding the greatest times of my life. I have been hiding US. Three musketeer’s, think twice, we were better. The “black sheep” son, the neglected brilliant daughter, the child they had. Me. I have been hiding them, I have been hiding me.

I made a pact. If my father or mother ever died, I would die. I have been holding the promise. I have been slowly killing myself for seven years. I promised if my dad ever died I would die and I am, it took seven years but I am. Seems my brain remembers. I would rather be dead with him then stay with the lot of you.

If I did really die, I would have to take my mother with me (guess I should talk to her about that first).

I did not understand until listening to this album and remembering the three of us. Both of my parents were separate from their family. They made their own family. The word “special” does not really cover what we were. I was raised by two of the best people that have ever, and may ever exist.

I did not see it before. I guess it really is love. I have one foot in the grave. One foot on the plot. I won’t leave them. Either of them. I am going with them. Even if it tears me in two.

I think I understand God now.

My heart is light tonight. At least now, I know. I am not full of shit. I am just keeping the promise I made to myself years ago.