some analogy about swimming (drowning)

Last weekend I blacked out for the second time. It's taken a lifetime, but I really believe now, that I am not in control. Suppression only works when you lock all the doors.

I sit here sometimes, and wave my fists in the air. Write these empowering bullshit letters to myself about how interesting and strong I am and all the things that I might deserve. But I don't feel strong.

I've been in the Midwest for 6 years now. I thought I had outrun the dark imbalance, but I still haven't found my footing. But here's the thing. I'm 32. Will I ever? I have been in this mode of Don't Worry It'll Happen for over a decade, and actually making efforts for the last 5 of those years but.

I'm still just this. Good jobs, friends, a great man. And I can't pull myself above the water long enough to gulp the air and see the skies. I'm still feet below. Haunted by the warmth my fingertips feel above the foam, the sun exists, I need her. Just knowing the atmosphere is really there might have to be enough. I have a vivid imagination.

I am taking steps, I promise. I quit drinking, I am writing again, thinking about drawing. But I'm not working, I have become wary and paranoid of people, I am lashing out at my partner, I am weighted down by this strange winter. I have nothing to give, I can't follow through. I know this.

I feel better for my self awareness, though. Long thoughts in a quiet house have brought me closer to understanding how my madness works. I think about cutting everyday, but I'm doing good, I'm steering clear. The summer was harder, I forgive myself for that. In a constant state of restart, I have to be. Do you know what it is like, to try to describe this fog to another? Watching them struggle with the automatic responses - Don't I give you everything? Don't I make you happy? What have I done? And you can reach over and say please, it's internal, this is chemistry, goddamn it I'm suffocating and I'm the one tying the concrete block to my legs help me, and it won't matter. When it's this hard to talk about, you keep it to yourself. It festers.

And you learn that really, no matter how much people love you, you're on your own with this. Some try to stand valiantly with you. But it only takes one step too far for them to throw their hands up and say Fuck this, THIS is fucking crazy.

I'm just working through this, hair drifting around me in the deep cold water, I keep my eyes closed and retreat into my head. The room, do you remember it? The windows are foggy and dripping with condensation. There's nothing out there anyway. I love the way it smells, like wood and maybe pomegranate body spray. The boxes are scattered, the closet door is open. The animal is out and she purrs into my hand as I stand in the middle of this cluttered, stifling space. I talk to her, because she is me.

Maybe, for the first time, she'll talk back to me. Instead of screaming, instead of attacking. Silver eyes and my own heart. Maybe together, we can find balance, start kicking, and find the air.

it feels better

when the person you're talking to is really saying something for once. we hopped restaurants trying to find a place to smoke and maybe study. i could say we're old friends. i could explain. but i wont. talking to him was release. it was comfortable and it was easy to laugh, to not try so hard, and simple to just sit. this person in front of me, i had missed him when he was gone from my life, wondered. and now he was new and strong and still the friend i needed him to be. the ideas and thoughts were terrifying and change inspiring. i wish there were more people around me like him. what a soul.

so thank you.


my chest burns and now that im thinking in fuzzy waves of near sleep im a little scared.
ill be living all alone soon.
ill be branching.
its going to be eternal nights and internal arguments.
i just think i need to be away from people so i can build the heart to miss them. maybe i wont be so jaded in a few months.
maybe something will change and ill reaize how silly everyone is being and ill laugh. hah.

next year ill leave the country and surround myself with jungle and storm clouds.
i think it will be just what i need.

the rosary was tonight and i havent forgotten you little brother. heres your birthday letter.

joey,
hey babe, its me, your big sister. i gotta tell you, i miss the shit out of you. since youve left so much has happened and in true stephanie form, im still fumbling through life like an idiot. im sure your laughing at me right now. do you miss me as much as i miss you? i wish you were here. you could be at school with me and im sure your grades would be better than mine. dad and mom miss you too. theyre so funny and weird. i think about you everyday joseph. everyday i think about the last day i saw you, how we hugged and how we said we loved each other. i was so lucky to have such a wonderful, loving, and beautiful being for a sibling. i love you so much. happy birthday.

so much love, stephanie



now im done, drained, exhausted.
time for sleep.