My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

You know, if I want to avoid a searing desire to enjoy large quantities of opiates, I really ought not watch the TAL episode for the time being.

So, right now, I’m in my room with an IV bag attached to a coat-hanger, duct taped to my ceiling fan and a needle in my neck. The juxtaposition is odd, I’ve never had an IV in my neck outside of the hospital. It’s nothing serious, just a few days of anti-biotics for the trache, but it’s weird. 

Some family friends visited yesterday, they prayed over me. They mean well, but getting prayed over never makes me feel anything but uneasy. It just feels a little weird, like maybe you’re “going somewhere.” I mean, I pray, but not like that, with “please Jesus” and “thank you, Lord Jesus,” every few words. My prayers are conversational, one-way, but still conversational. I think God knows me enough to where I can just talk (not literally), and sometimes swear. I like to think God’s cool enough to be called a fucker and take it, He knows what’s in your heart anyway, and that’s what’s sometimes in mine.

I had terrible nightmares. Sometimes I miss the exhausted, empty sleep before Ativan.

I’m thinking about someone again. I think about said person a lot.

I’ll write something better after I wake up a bit.

Wake me up when September ends…

So, I’ve been really down for a good chunk of time, and it’s very easy to get lost in all that darkness. It happens though, you either deal with it in your way or you don’t. I’ve been doing a lot thinking about life and what I want out of it. I keep hearing, “life is in God’s hands,” and “everything happens for a reason,” and “you just have to leave things to fate,” and “if something is meant to be, it will be.” I thought a lot about those things, and I realized something really important. I don’t buy any of it.

God’s not going to help or hurt me, God’s just watching. God’s not going to make my life work, that is up to me. People make choices and our choices have consequences that create other choices and outcomes. Fate, God, whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t rule us. Leaving everything to someone or something else is just a form of inaction. When a person gives up their will to make choices, they’re just allowing other people’s choices to shape their life. A person’s own will is so powerful. Strong-willed people change the world. Choices and actions shape my life, not God or fate. I’m not leaving my life to anyone or anything, it’s all up to my choices and strength of will. Fuck it, I might fail at everything I want, but it won’t be because God or fate made it so. If my will is stronger than those that oppose me, I’ll be fine. I don’t think we should leave anything to God, because I think God leaves everything to us.

Sometimes I feel like Kurt Cobain, minus the talent, the money, the sexy hair, the cool way he smoked cigarettes, and the awesome sweaters.

If you want me you can find me left of center, wondering about you.

it’s really getting difficult to totally fucking suck at everything.

So, I’m back from the hospital, again. I didn’t explain it clearly, but I was in the hospital all last weekend until Monday evening with a nasty stomach virus. I felt good when I got home, but for whatever reason, I started coughing and by Tuesday evening I was back in the hospital with respiratory issues. I would rather break each finger individually than have trouble breathing. At some point, no machine or medicine is going to keep me breathing, so I always get nervous when breathing feels difficult.

At any rate, I’m out and feel better. I’m trying to decide what to do today, whether to stay in or drag myself out. I’m not exactly sure. For a moment I thought about going to see Death Race or Star Wars: The Clone Wars, but life is too fucking short. There has to be something else. Life is bigger.

It’s raining here, grey and wet outside. Water beats against my windows, and I watch it fall. It’s a soothing, melancholy rain, perfect for writing or quiet contemplation, or both. For me, it’s both. It reminds me of things that make me happy, and so I watch it fall.

So, here I am, watching Olympic boxing after 3 AM. I’d never normally watch boxing, but since it’s “Olympic boxing” I feel compelled. It’s better than Goddamned Nick at Night. I haven’t slept since fucking May, which doesn’t really make me, oh, what’s the phrase? At ease? Contentedly at peace? Something like that. I’m thinking about my limits lately. Like, how much… trauma? unwanted-change? anguish? can I take before I chuck it all in and start wearing sweat-pants all fucking day? I’m kidding, but I’m serious too. We all have limits, physical, spiritual, emotional, everything has a ceiling. A person hits their physical limit and they die. A person hits their emotional limit and they start crying for absolutely no reason, they quit talking to people. Maybe they want to die. Everybody has the potential to break beyond repair, we all have Rubicons to cross.

Where are my ceilings, my Rubicons? I don’t know, I really don’t. I feel like I’ve seen them, taken a visit to say, “hi!” It’s frightening sometimes, to see my limits. I don’t know sometimes if I’m getting weaker or stronger. It’s difficult to know. I suppose a person doesn’t honestly know their limits until they’re bleeding in the bathtub. Still, if I sit back and look inside, there’s something in me that won’t quit without one Hell of a fight. I just worry sometimes that it’s round twelve and that part of me is behind on the score-card. I don’t aim to lose, I don’t intend to go down, but sometimes, when I’m alone in my head, I wonder if my aims and wants matter. Every fight has a loser, I don’t want it to be me.