I Am Here

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If I could only sleep, I think it would all go away. The reruns and the constant self-flaying bullshit – until all my head is, is cotton wool and storm drains; ebbing always away and into nothing. So that I am nothing – only a vast ocean of my bad choices and guilt. And really, how else are we supposed to live, if not to acknowledge our misdeeds and the fault lines that lay within all of us? To pick at it until it explodes? See how much pressure it can take… realistically.
Emotional pressure points – God only knows until we do too, and fuck up anew.

I watched a movie based on a novel by Stephen Elliot, it has the lines: “Validation is a helluva thing..” and he answers “The truth is fucked up”. And that’s my entire life in two sentences – I’m constantly trying to validate what I’ve already fucked up, and continue to fuck up on a daily basis. Because I cannot sleep so I cannot process so I cannot heal or find the sense in my actions.
Mostly though, it’s just me; inside my head, berating myself on every level. And let’s face it, who would want that kinda shit as a daily cheerleader? Bound to get tangled inside of words and actions and dreams and disillusionment that just go nowhere. Except, here. I am here.

Wide awake and terrorised by my own thoughts. My imagination is a scarey and wondrous place.
I would prefer not to live there.

But, I do.
I am.
I am here.

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