Gravity = LoveAthol Fugard
Motion = Karma
Notebooks 1960-1977
Friday, November 12, 2004
i didn't think that i'd have to be back here so soon. i thought sunday that i was going to break. all weekend that i was going to break. but i didn't. i held on and kept it together. i thought i was going to die sunday night. but i didn't, i made it back in one piece, and i kept myself together. good days, finally, later. there are sirens outside. they've been going steady for the past week. wonder if it's real, someone lying in the back of an ambulance holding on for their life... or if it's just another alarm pull by the children here. there was a girl lying on the floor in corbett today. the emt's were working on her. blonde hair all mussed up and flying everywhere, matted against her head from the elastic cord they have on the oxygen mask. writhing, crying. four people seemingly darting to get things done, to help her, to do their jobs. woman on a cell phone, long black coat, disconnected look. i thought she might be calling out for food, with how disinterested she looked. but everyone takes it differently. i just glanced and walked by. ten feet away people were going on as usual, drinking their coffee and reading newspapers and talking with friends. having a good time. so disconnected from the world. that could be anyone. an everyman, everywoman. no one cares anymore. we just keep going with our lives. no one else matters.
i went back to my room and slept.
"friends don't let friends go to unm". who says that to a person. certainly not an adult that's supposed to help you. someone who says "well you can't handle two maths" or that "unm isn't the same caliber as here". people are supposed to help. i could've tape recorded her and no one would believe me. that red sweater. horn rimmed glasses. voice of superiority. no one believes. when you say the same thing time after time, no one will believe anything you say, even if it's true every time.
and they made me talk to the counselor. they made it sound like they figured i'd kill myself if they couldn't get me an appointment, i tried to say that was fine and hang up, but they transferred me over to her and she sounded like she knew me already. "right, i got your email. actually, i have an opening wednesday. i'll sign you up for then". it's gonna be the same. all i wanted was medication, but have to go through the motions again. no one seems helpful there to me. they just all treat you like you're going to kill yourself.
and meanwhile no one notices the people who sit alone in taos everyday. same table, same food. same distant look. that desparate glance when someone walks by their table... maybe... just maybe they'll sit down... and i? i've made an art of being alone. it comes with the attitude, the belief. closed body language, right foot up on the chair. don't make eye contact. don't make any contact. and eat because now you're forcing yourself to. i don't have anything to talk to people about anymore. "maybe if you're not so lazy...", "maybe if you didn't whine...", "well, if you got out once and a while...". so why bother. i say "yeah, my favorite band is in town tonight at hurricane alley, but it's 21+." "who?" "flickerstick." "oh. never heard of them." and i wonder why i'm enthusiastic about music anymore, so i just let it pass.
no one really cares.
in a world where we're all so selfish, it's a wonder that more people haven't killed themselves. people say that suicide is the most selfish act anyone could do. my view, aren't you being selfish by saying that? i've always viewed suicide as the most powerful thing you could ever do. not murder, murder isn't power because the other person doesn't have a choice. with suicide, you're telling the world that you give up on it, not the other way around. the ultimate in power. the ultimate in control.
two people remembered my birthday. one was obligated. one was a day late. and all i wanted to do was sleep.
and so, the self fulfilling prophecy has been, well, fulfilled. and i didn't just hit the floor. i broke. it hurt this time. it never hurt before, at least i don't remember it. dull. could've at least snagged some blades. and now i've broken a promise, and that won't heal. and if it does... knowing me i'll feel worse. does it count as a slip up? i don't know. i wasn't going to get the tattoo anyway. i'll never get it.
i felt so good this morning. so perfectly good. and i wanted to write. maybe if i had just gotten on here sooner, i wouldn't have to be apologizing so much.
please... not again...
i went back to my room and slept.
"friends don't let friends go to unm". who says that to a person. certainly not an adult that's supposed to help you. someone who says "well you can't handle two maths" or that "unm isn't the same caliber as here". people are supposed to help. i could've tape recorded her and no one would believe me. that red sweater. horn rimmed glasses. voice of superiority. no one believes. when you say the same thing time after time, no one will believe anything you say, even if it's true every time.
and they made me talk to the counselor. they made it sound like they figured i'd kill myself if they couldn't get me an appointment, i tried to say that was fine and hang up, but they transferred me over to her and she sounded like she knew me already. "right, i got your email. actually, i have an opening wednesday. i'll sign you up for then". it's gonna be the same. all i wanted was medication, but have to go through the motions again. no one seems helpful there to me. they just all treat you like you're going to kill yourself.
and meanwhile no one notices the people who sit alone in taos everyday. same table, same food. same distant look. that desparate glance when someone walks by their table... maybe... just maybe they'll sit down... and i? i've made an art of being alone. it comes with the attitude, the belief. closed body language, right foot up on the chair. don't make eye contact. don't make any contact. and eat because now you're forcing yourself to. i don't have anything to talk to people about anymore. "maybe if you're not so lazy...", "maybe if you didn't whine...", "well, if you got out once and a while...". so why bother. i say "yeah, my favorite band is in town tonight at hurricane alley, but it's 21+." "who?" "flickerstick." "oh. never heard of them." and i wonder why i'm enthusiastic about music anymore, so i just let it pass.
no one really cares.
in a world where we're all so selfish, it's a wonder that more people haven't killed themselves. people say that suicide is the most selfish act anyone could do. my view, aren't you being selfish by saying that? i've always viewed suicide as the most powerful thing you could ever do. not murder, murder isn't power because the other person doesn't have a choice. with suicide, you're telling the world that you give up on it, not the other way around. the ultimate in power. the ultimate in control.
two people remembered my birthday. one was obligated. one was a day late. and all i wanted to do was sleep.
and so, the self fulfilling prophecy has been, well, fulfilled. and i didn't just hit the floor. i broke. it hurt this time. it never hurt before, at least i don't remember it. dull. could've at least snagged some blades. and now i've broken a promise, and that won't heal. and if it does... knowing me i'll feel worse. does it count as a slip up? i don't know. i wasn't going to get the tattoo anyway. i'll never get it.
i felt so good this morning. so perfectly good. and i wanted to write. maybe if i had just gotten on here sooner, i wouldn't have to be apologizing so much.
please... not again...
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