June was a fuzzy blur. Lots of take out food. I found myself constantly in the need of emotional rescue. P was advising me daily. Giving me pep talks, prepping me for the next round. I was bloodied with one eye swollen shut, had taken a few punches to the gut. Not in good shape whatsoever. Nothing other than life was happening to me but that alone was enough to take me down to my knees. I was weak and feeble minded.
I'm in what they call the 'change of life'. And they ain't kiddin'. What a whacked out trip it's been so far. I'm sad, I'm happy. I want to kill you. I find you fascinating. I see, smell and feel stuff like I never have before. Another moment I'm numb to the world. Everything is new and scary or it's Groundhog Day over and over. A continuous PMS cycle complete with cramps, high anxiety and a vat of worry.
I knew shit was getting weird when I started hanging with the feral cats. I found where they stayed and would only sometimes bring food but mostly just go stare at them, take pictures. I'd gaze at the water off the old piers and go into those deep Sybil trances while riding my bike popping awake only to be shocked at how long I was gone.
Yeah, my sister says when this is over I'll get a clarity and strong sense of self not yet felt before. I'm all for that. I even forgot who I was at this point. Be cool to be someone who doesn't cry every two hours. Been hovering in some purgatory of nothingness for too long. At least they deliver here otherwise I'd be screwed.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?