Manic as hell…

not much time to write.

I was just outside, singing with Charlie while he rocked the guitar.  I always worry that our neighbors will bitch, but they always seem to like it.  We can get quite loud, but we do sound pretty good together.  I guess we should – we’ve had five years to find a rhythm.

A crazy old man in a wheelchair intentionally rolled over my foot and crushed my toe, at the bus stop, yesterday.  I know what you’re thinking – "intentionally?  Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?"  Oh, I am sure.  It was quite blatant.  Nuts, in fact… 

I was standing a good seven or eight feet away, and he wheeled over, smashed my toes, then wheeled back to his little spot in the shade, where he’d been loitering before he came my way.  When I looked at him, puzzled over this, he swore at me somewhat incoherently.  Charlie said, "he’s just a crazy old man."  I nodded, attempted to smile (my toe was smarting pretty badly), and we got on the bus.

I think that crazy old man may have broken my toe. 

I haven’t heard from Maria since the day she had her little meltdown at outpatient.  I miss her, in spite of her antics when last we hung out.  I miss laughing with her.  We are both pretty easily amused, at times, and there are things we understand about each other that few people can.  Parts of my life are just so foreign to some people – they cannot reconcile it.  What is just another part of me, and my life, as far as I am concerned, will always seem strange is disquieting to most people.  I have to learn to cope with that.  But, it is hard to let go of people who really relate to you in ways that most people cannot.  She knows what it is like to live with violence looming all around you – to lose all healthy regard for youself and your safety because you are desensitized to danger. 

I remember a friend calling me "fearless" some years back.  And, at the time, I kind of liked that – I saw it as a compliment, and I think it was meant as such, but what my friend was reacting to was a very stupid and unnecessary act on my part.  I walked into a very dangerous CHA building, alone, to score some heroin.  I wasn’t afraid of the people there – they seemed to want to sell me shit, so I figured they probably would not hurt me (I knew they could, but i was not worried about it – I certainly wasn’t stupid enough to walk in there with a weapon).  My main fear was of the police.  If they spot light skin in those parts, they seriously cuff you first, and ask questions later.  I think my lack of fear was something really screwy inside – an animal without fear is every bit as screwed as an animal that can’t feel pain (it eventually dies, because pain is what warns us that something is unsafe and cannot continue, or that something must be attended to).  I buried or restrained all my fear somehow, and dulled out my pain with heroin – I was slowing eclipsing my existence, without actually ending it (and leaving the door wide open for someone or something else to kill me).  Now, my emotions boil over, incoherently, at times. 

I feel so much fear, but I don’t even know why, or what I am afraid of, half the time.  I used to be terrified of both success and failure, in terms of leaving smack behind.  Hell, I was afraid of trying, and failing, and thusly proving to myself that I could not be saved.  Now, I am afraid of the stagnancy that plagues me.  I fight against it.  I think, if I stay still too long, I will start to backslide.  I will lose my momentunm, and anything good that I may be inching toward (known and unknown, seen and unseen) could slip away.

I am supposed to visit my folks tomorrow.  That should be good, but I hope the mania passes by then.  They will know something is wrong, and worry, if I am like this when I get there.  I want to see them, but it will be a strain – I haven’t been there since I kicked.  And, I don’t like to spend the night away from my home.  I will have to get up mad early to get home on Sunday.  The only other trains are too early or too late, and I have my dominatrix photo shoot on Saturday.  I cannot wait.  I think I am going to get some really good material for my portfolio.  I need creative expression to breathe.  I really need to get my writing going again.  I won’t feel right until I do that.  At least I have my photography.  Without that, I would have bounced off the grid, by now.

Ace was a mess last night.  I hope I was able to help.  I really do try.  He always helps me so much.  I want to be of use to the people I care about.  I don’t want to just be someone who needs things from people.  I want my relationships with others to be continuums of emotional energy that are fed by both sides.  I don’t want to be a burden or a drain.  I want to contribute something worth having. 

I want to be someone worth having, and someone worth knowing.  I don’t want it to be difficult to love me, but I fear that it is.

I am not stable at all today, my emotions are peaking and dropping off at a rapid rate, and I am getting more and more lost in it.  My judgment sucks when I get like this.  I have to stay focused.  I have to calm down.

And breathe…

slowly…

calmly…

and deeply…

until I can relax.

Because, everything is going to be okay.

It is…

It has to be.