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Monday, February 15, 2016

stupid fucking shit

Feeling sorry for myself just found out that someone that I keep inviting to come and visit is going to visit somebody else. I don't get a lot of visitors and honestly I'm torn between wanting to have visitors and wanting to be alone. The great paradox.

Trying not to make it into a statement/evidence of my inherent badness aka why would anyone want to visit me? Still, it's my default. Willing myself not to call someone and complain, that is, ask what is so awful about me that I rarely receive visitors. After all, I'm the one who moved so far away, it was my choice. I feel hurt though. This in my bones feeling of unworthiness, of unloved-ness.

Hey write a song about it!

What did I do?
To hurt you?
You say it's not about me
Why don't I believe?

I crawl further into my rancid skin and weep for the sorrow that is me.
No reprieve.

Can I look into the void, won't it just show me the reflection?
Won't I be misled?

I don't feel close to fine (thank you I.G.).
Instead am clothed In a dipole, shocks and shards piercing , impaling, swirling within and without.

Little me cries

Saturday, February 13, 2016

it started with a metaphor, honestly

Too far away from the sea
To keep an open heart and mind

We've willfully forgotten to be kind

It's harder to be kind, it takes effort and you have you check in at an internal check stop, you have to change direction you have to step out of your history to see yourself in someone else

i keep thinking about a song, one of social conscience. It can be done and done well it seems.

I stripped some more wire today and maybe I will start to weave my next thing.

Therapy was long and arduous this week, entered into the realm of admitting to things I feel great shame about, things I actually did wrong (that I didn't imagine). These tales wanted to come out. So more will follow and perhaps these toxins also will be finally released harmlessly.

A woman can hope.