arrow splinters stick in my side

Feb. 10/09

last night we wrapped it all up chez Fallen Angel. a couple Andean martinis too many sent me into bouts of comedy & performance. I’ve had several outbursts of loud laughter this week, a sure sign my body is releasing overwhelming emotions.

after I finished packing in my buzzed state, I heaved my suitcases from the attic & crawled into bed with Brook for some Harry Potter & ramen noodles. we passed out fairly quickly after that. i woke up a few hours later after a dream: I was staying at mom & dad’s, a cupboard above the fridge was packed with lindt chocolate (in reality representing all the chocolate Nick, Claire’s boyfriend, had brought us women when he arrived in Peru this week), and I wasn’t with H.

the dream had those “all too real” sensations attached to it, you know you’re awake, but there is no differentiation. right: this is real. sigh, this is so messed up…
in every minute, there are countless moments where my mind tries to process what is really going on. I know, but it is surreal. really? with her? really? at all?

what happened to you?
who are you?
the weight of your illusion finally cracked your camouflage.
i don't know you.

my ideal for traveling, whether geographically, on the edge or cosmically, is that there are always welcoming, loving arms to come back “home” to. so much pressure on that one person. so much unrequited excitement. I do have a wealth of love welcoming my presence no matter where my feet land. but I want it from that person who used to love me. looking back, i see how far away you've gone.

I’m barely sleeping anymore, definitely not through the night, internal upheaval, my appetite marks its limit quickly & my subconscious brain is flooded with peculiar dreams. even though I am dealing so well, that’s just it – I am dealing. surfing the waves as they arise and trying to keep the board under my body. some moments I’d rather be fighting sharks, battling giant squid or cooking fresh calamari on the beach under a galaxy of fireflies.

what is home anymore? “home is where the heart is” they say – what does that even mean? the Venus abode I created is now destroyed. i trusted my sanctuary to a free radical. i am homeless. my address has been reduced to a mailbox, no longer equating reprieve, as it too is tainted. I am still cleaning up debris from the demolishing of my heart; pieces of which are strewn in some sort of riddle.

this is so disorienting, unreal, erroneous, illusory…
I sway from sparkle to lackluster, tip-toeing on the edges of apathy despite the “no trespassing” signs.

an apathetic state is my decay.