You know what I'm thinking?

No, no you don't.

I'm not really going crazy

I'm just so livid
most of the time
that I cannot
think
or
speak
or
walk
without the hot
putrid smell of
hate protruding from
my
pores.

I'm not really going crazy
I may have already hit rock bottom
because I hate where I shouldn't
and love where it can't

I am NOT
going crazy
but I really
feel like it
right now

I fear
staying
this way for
too long

I fear that it will make me crazier
than I am on a normal day
without the pain in my shoulder

I am NOT really going crazy

I saw a car on fire
at first I wanted to snap a picture,
I've never seen a car on fire before,
but instead I drove away,
stupid new phone without a shortcut to the camera.
Instead, I drove on, I was sure others had
called the authorities, but I was stuck
with the car for a while.
When I passed, I could feel the heat
of the flames inside my car
with the windows up two lanes away.
After passing, I could only think about
what it might mean:
a death
a change in lifestyle.
I felt sad.
I think it was the turning point.
I mean, I cried tonight
despite my desire to hide.
I actually cried
a little
but all I really
wanted to do was
scream and hit and throw things.
I nearly had an anxiety attack,
haven't had a real one in years, almost
since my mother's death.
Though it is never a real
attack, just a feeling
of dispair that
bears down on my
heart.

I'm not crazy.
If I say it enough,
I might believe it.
I'm not crazy.

The Heart of the Matter

Notice:
high water below
rough terrain ahead
ominous clouds above

Notice:
lone sun ray beaming down
last of the pixie dust shining out
breeze picking up

Notice:
you are not standing alone
you are surrounded by many loves
you are separated by many feet

Notice:
you are not looking outside
you are not overlooking the river
you are beating inside me

depression

everyday i look at my blog
everyday i want to write something
but i can't
i feel like i can't write
i can't write because i don't feel like it
and i don't feel like it because i have no real feelings
except the feeling of apathy

ramblings in the night

I watched a movie about a 39 year old teacher who wants to have a baby. It was a decent movie: irony, love, great actors. When it was over, I spoke truths out of my window. I made contradictory statements and declared uncertainties. I laughed at my foolishness and pride. I found fault with my past and flaws in my person. I said all this aloud. I looked at the moon and said it all so she could hear. I spoke to God, I think, but I wanted the moon to hear, for God already knows. I looked out at the moon and realized that in the great grand scheme of things, very little of what I say or feel matters. In the great grand scheme of things, my miniscule problems are nothing. I am nothing to the moon, yet I wanted her to hear my frustrations.

****

My foot started bothering me midday Thursday. I walked on it anyway. I made myself walk three miles on it anyway. I made myself jog on it anyway. Now it's swolen anyway. But just a little anyway. Maybe if I jog more it will heal, at least better than otherwise anyway.

****

going out alone isn't all it's cracked up to be

****

I almost dropped my phone into the river. It fell out of my hand the moment I tried to secure it just as I was beginning to jog on a semi-swollen ankle. It was the same spot where I thought to myself, "Gee, it sure would suck if I dropped my phone here." Just the day before I visualized dropping it.

When it fell, the back detaching itself and the two pieces that are my phone sliding just to the edge, I paused long enough to pick it up and reattach before jogging across, the water lapping loudly below.