Standing Fast.

I’m having trouble concentrating. Although this should be a happy morning, the reality seems to be leaving a lot to be desired. I am invited to a BBQ at my old climbing partner’s and long time friend’s house. Normally free food makes me giddy but somehow today it has lost its allure. Later on I will be going to the theatre to try to get back into improv. I took time away from it for a few weeks to try to get some perspective.

There’s a maelstrom of “what if’s” and “if only’s” swirling around in my mind. I turn around onto my stomach and put the pillow under my chest for more comfort.

The time stops.

Somehow surviving the washing machine or maybe coming off something else a single strand of Her hair is laying on my bed sheets.

image

My heart starts beating harder and harder and it becomes difficult to breathe and to keep typing this post. My mind is burning up with sorrow.

What do I do? I know I will not just get rid of it. I can’t!!!
What if… If only…
I don’t know anything any more.

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Day 18. I Think Of You. (Letter #4.)

I listen to music and I think of you.
I walk in the streets and my feet keep taking me to you.
I run away but my mind stays.
I take to a new road, one to take me away from you.
When I look at the road ahead, all I see is a hopelessness with your face appearing through the fog.
When I run back, there’s nothing but a a memory of you, full of pain.
So I stop here that is nowhere.
I fall to my knees and scream into the void.
I search for you with my mind but all I find is more pain.
I try to eat but food has lost its taste.
I try to drink but instead of sweet release your image shines brighter in my mind. It gains in power and its brightness sears your face deeper into the recesses of my id.
I scream to the heavens to take me but my darkness, my everpresent darkness keeps dragging me down.
I am hellbound and I welcome the prospect of new pain, different paid, for it will surely distract me from the pain of your memory.
I reach for a blade, for the pills, for the booze but nothing can free me. I am locked in the prison that is your memory. I am dying, locked forever in the bottomless pit of its darkest dungeon.
I am yours and yours alone, my love.
I am nothing to you and it kills me slowly. And yet it is as though I am being kept alive.
I become a spectre, a mere apparition devoid of matter for my substance has been burned away.
I hear happy sounds of brass Instruments. A small orchestra is singing of hope in the key of major. But my life is stuck in minor for there is no hope for me.
My heart starts beating harder bringing fresh memory of you. It is trying to burst out of my aching chest.
Alas. It beats in vain. I live in vain. I am alive yet dead. I am no more.