Maria came home with me from outpatient.  Thought that might help…  but she was having one of her zombie days (I think she’s overmedicated, and some days it really shows).  When she gets like that, she’s a lot like a person messed up on zanax or H (looks and acts somewhat similar).  Which was great for me to be around.  I kept getting frustrated, and suppressing it, because I know it’s just my messed up state of mind, making me testy.  

"You will ask:  And where are the lilacs?

And the metaphysics laced with poppies?

And the rain that often beat

his words filling them

with holes and birds?"

Jordan is here, now.  He’s helpful.  But, I don’t feel like talking to him, about last night.  I don’t feel like dealing with anything, at all, to be honest.

"I’ll tell you everything that’s happening with me.

I lived in a neighborhood

…with church bells,

with clocks, with trees."

Charlie is sleeping the day away.  Big surprise.

I feel lost, and helpless, and useless.

I just want to disappear, sometimes.

"a beautiful house

with dogs and little kids."

Ace sent me a really nice email.  It helped (but he didn’t know what I thought he knew, when he wrote it).  You’re all very helpful, and your support means a lot.  I told Ace.  I thought he’d already seen my blog, but he hadn’t, so I had to spell it out for him, which sucked.

I hate feeling like a disappointment.  I told him a couple times that knowing I let him down hurt like hell.  He said he’d be epically let down if I gave up.  I get that, but it’s hard to fight for yourself, when you hate yourself, and right now…

I really f@cking hate myself.

"do you remember my house with the balconies on which

the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth?"

He’s the only person who’s been able to help me.  I feel so guilty.

I picked up my front room a little.  The place still needs a lot of work.  Charlie always says he’ll help, but he never does. 

I need to work on the God damn laundry.  I desperately need clean garmentry.

Talked to a DT friend this a.m.  He said not to feel bad.  That he’s done the whole binge drinking thing a few times since he gave up his daily drinking habit.  That this sort of thing just happens, sometimes…

"Jackals the jackal would reject,

stones the dry thistle would bite then spit out

vipers the vipers would despise!" (Pablo Neruda "I Explain Some Things")

And, yeah…  promises get broken, but…  this one really stings.  I feel like a complete jerk, and an utter failure.  How could I let someone down, who’s done so much to help me?

I feel so lost, right now.  I don’t understand anything.  I just need to be quiet, and to let my soul get quiet, while someone tells me that I am not every bad thing that I think I am.  While someone takes my hand, and leads me out of the dark…

"yet from every dead child rises a rifle with eyes,

yet from every crime bullets are born

that will one day find the target

of your heart." (Pablo Neruda "Traitor")