so...

but that isn't me, now is it? say what you mean and mean what you say i can do...

but putting it all out here where the eyes of others are sure to see and find and read and possibly know...

that would not be good, right?

because you don't really want to know...we have established this already.

no?

so i heard from a her, and i did as she asked...though even as i cried out, i realized the irony in the changing of the necklace today...

but i sent that long-legged boy from yesteryear's running...

and i got a message i don't know what to do with.

cause bella sang "she talks to angels" the very next song and the part of me that wasn't shaking almost smiled at the irony in it all...

because i know...so much more than i would ever get credit for...

"she paints her eyes as black as night...pulls the shades down tight...she gives a smile when the pain comes...cause the pain's gonna make everything alright...alright"

which brings me round full circle to earlier in the evening...just sitting and listening to the music and having a beer...and trying to curb the edge of it all.

the biting stinging teeth gnashing edge of destruction where i am left begging for something other than this...it is best for all of us to just not notice when i am spiralling. i know where my bottom is...i left it in another pair of pants. and i am so far from it. even if i do get mired down, stuck deep..."you can play extinction later"...and the cloying smell of disinfectant stuck with me as i bled it away in the bathroom...shhh, don't look.

i amswered every call i could this weekend...met every need i could...and fought like hell to do the impossible...

and it was a good fight. even fucked up, drugged up and tore up i can still fight.

but in this...what am i fighting for?

because all of that, ladies and gentlemen...has nothing to do with me.

i am nothing more than a pawn in someone else's chess game and i am just letting it be...

me? i am just your hopeless, hapless narrator...

the cruise ship director on good days and a stow-a-way on the bad ones...

and some nights...yeah, just some nights...i wish things had turned out differently...and yet not at all. because even different, no one ever really knew what i wanted...because i didn't even know.

years ago, i promised bekka a list, and so the list she shall get...not in any specific order...just the list. shortened a tad...the original had 30 things...

1. have a heart - beating is not optional

2. believe in yourself

3. have faith in the right place

4. have eyes that really do show your soul

5. don't lie...never lie to yourself or to me (trust me, i will know and i will dig and that is bad)

6. believe in love and reject apathy

7. know loss and hurt because that is part of life

8. talk to me...when it is the hardest, it is probably the most important

9. the round thing on your neck...that is important, use it.

10. believe in me

breathe and believe and love and breathe and do it all again...

learn to live...to be caught up in the moment and satiated.

it is okay to be afraid...

to feel alone...

to embrace the darkness with a death grip when you are confused and hurt...

but eventually...we have to crawl out of the swamp.

eventually...we have to choose to live.

and like granny weatherwax says...there is black and white and white that has gotten grubby...it is as simple as that.

i am rambling wild running in circular tangents, climbing trees and dropping banana peels for you to slip on when you walk underneath...

and the biggest word on my mind?

shame.

and what it does to people. what it did to me.

shame and blame...and their pat little slogans don't mean much when you are eyeing the barrel of a shotgun...

but when the words hit you like a train and then follow you home like a stray dog...

because what if...what if it wasn't the years of abuse and unlove...the years of rape and death and hurt and loss and grief revisited over, and over like a really fucked up record...

what if the thing that brought me to my knees after all of it was something with only five little letters?

shame

but what if i am not ashamed anymore?

what if i won't let it get me anymore?

then...

well, i suppose that might be called living. and i intend to do that.

"child, where did you get your heart?"

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