tonight is not a very good night

December 8, 2006

speak to me
when all you got to keep is strong,
move along, move along
like i know you do.
and even when your hope is gone,
move along, move along
just to make it through

go on, go on, go on, go on

when everything is wrong, we move along
along, along, along

i’m trying.

the whole world comes crashing down and i can’t do it, i can’t, there’s too much to do and think and be and feel.  my whole body shakes from cold and tension and my hands ache, my knuckles all swollen, my ugly knobbly square hands shivering.  i want to pull into myself, i want to put my face down on my desk and say i can’t do this anymore.  i can’t take the dark, i can’t take the cold, i can’t take the nothing.

i hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it when the smell of him hits me.  it comes out of nowhere and slams into me like a fist, fills my mouth and my lungs, it’s like he’s all around me and inside of me at once and my mind falls apart from the attack of memories.  i want him to go away for good, it’s been too long, i’ve tried so hard and i can’t let him mean anything to me anymore because i’ve been hurt the same way twice and i refuse to strike out.  so i hate it when the smell of him is there – in the hallway, on my sweater, next to the novel on the shelf.

i want to do everything so well, i want to be the best, i want to know, i want to prove that i know, but there isn’t time.  there isn’t time in a day, there isn’t time in a week.  every day less sleep, every morning getting out of bed into that icy pre-dawn gets harder, the circles under my eyes get longer and darker and i remember putting on make up for Hallowe’en one year when i gave myself black eyes and thought it was funny.  there’s so much to do that i’m losing touch with myself and i want to keep writing, i’m trying so hard.  i’m losing my grip on reality and on what’s important but it’s too late because i can’t turn back now, not when i’m this close.

i don’t have time for my friends, for my family, for boys, for anything except what’s about to happen to me right here and right now and what the immediate consequences will be.  i’m living inside a glass van and my windows are all fogged up.

mostly what i’m trying to say is
i’m scared of myself
i don’t understand
i’m sick
and i’m lonely.

i’m trying to find a way out.

searchingly,
augustine

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