Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Forever feels like home sitting all alone

My brain has been everywhere lately. Thinking about everything that has happened, of all the feelings I can't seem to lock away right now. I tried dating. I tried random banging, and none of it changes anything. I don't know what to do. I just know that I need my best friend, especially right now, and if it stays as it is now, I will lose him. He will leave. I can't deal with that on top of everything else.
I'm an emotional disaster, trying like hell to keep my head above water. I feel crazy. I feel vulnerable and exposed. I went from not giving a fuck about anything, to going fucking nuts over stupid shit. I know it is dumb. I know I sound jealous, because I feel alone. I feel like no one cares, like I'm pointless if I'm not satisfying someone else's needs.
Pretty sure that it was a panic attack at work the other night, brought on by who knows what. I'm unstable. I'm trying to be more stable, and I need my constants. But my constants want their space and I don't know what to do but freak out. I don't know what to do when I'm alone unexpectedly. I don't know what I need to have people who I trust around without pushing them away.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Closed eyes

Another day,
just like every other day,
working until my fingers bleed.

Pain erupts,
so sudden it steals my breath,
doubles me over.

I lose time,
overwhelmed by the ache,
deep, and constant,
but increasing quickly and steadily.

I lose focus, can't keep my eyes open,
struggling to say anything,
to let someone know.

I lose strength,
body siphoning everything
to keep conscious.
The tears stream freely and openly,
not easing the pain.

People come in and leave,
ask questions I don't hear fully,
accept answers I don't remember being clear about.

So many people,
and I don't know if anyone understands.

I don't know if I'm being clear.
I don't know a lot of anything.
I know he's in the room,
next to me,
but I don't remember him coming in.

They strap me on the board,
ask questions;
laying down helps.

My pain stops being priority,
my body tries to lose consciousness.
Purple and blue blossom behind closed eyelids,
and I'm asked more questions.
I hear my babbling responses,
know that they don't track,
don't know how to explain,
know I'm not being understood.

The longer I lay down, the better I feel.
The trip to the hospital is long;
I see none of it.
The squeezing calms.

The hospital asks questions, does tests,
but gives no answers, no medicine.

The nurse writes my responses on a napkin.

I shouldn't be here.