Tuesday, November 28, 2006


Tonight I am fucked up. I can't deal. My doctors are tapering my prednisone and it is really messing with me emotionally. I can't deal with the emotional highs and lows. I want to take these raw emotions and throw them against the wall. I don't want them. I am sick of people not being able to understand what's going on with me, I'm sick of trying to explain it. I resent everybody for not understanding. And I am defiantly sick of saying I don't or can't blame people for not knowing how to react or understand. When the hell did my role in life become the "mediator" between myself and others. Why do I always feel that it's my responsibility to understand and cater to everyone else feelings and thoughts? I'm the one that fucking sick! The one who's life has been drastically shortened. How nice it must be to be able to go through life without any thought of how others might feel.

Hello? Does anybody know what it's like to have to think about your own mortality? The luxury of living in a bubble. One that says what are my plans for next year, what will I name my child should I choose to have one? All I want to do is cry. And I do believe me, but not too much because than I can't fucking breath! I am angry, sad, and scared, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I don't even know if these feelings are 100% mine or medication induced. I don't want to hear "hang in there, it will be ok", right now my response is go fuck yourself, I don't have the flu. I feel like nobodies on my side. Can somebody please just be angry along with me and not try to fix anything or cheer me up. Like I said, tonight I am fucked up.

Monday, November 13, 2006


Why is it that I keep dreaming about people from my past? I'm not dreaming about past events but rather people from my past in currant times. By currant I mean that we discuss my illness, some ask how I am doing; some I'm telling what's happened for the first time, while others, nothing said at all. Every dream is different but the theme or overall feeling remains the same. It's a feeling of solace. As if somewhere within that dream exist what I most need, that feeling of comfort. Every dream has this feeling but in a reminiscing kind of way and not in a currant ongoing way. Almost as a reminder of how I used to feel; what made me happy as a human being. It was the simple things that gave me the biggest sense of completeness and comfort. It was sitting on the cliffs at Minnawoska State Park playing my flute and watching the hawks fly around the lake, climbing the lemon squeeze at Mohawk Mountain in 100 degree weather and finding a cave with snow in it. Sipping a cup of Java in silence and staring off into nowhere lost in thought. Stillness… but stillness within an active world. The ability to watch the world whiz around me and not be caught up in it. The art of simple observation, with its only betrayal being a knowing smile. It's true that I've lost this aspect of myself or rather it's been confined and caged up with a very limited view. No longer within the world observing, but rather trapped within the confines of my house and my mind, with my only outlet being my dreams. Perhaps this is why I'm having these dreams with people from my past. Like a favorite TV show whose single purpose in life is to allow the viewer to escape the stress of everyday life. The difference is that these dreams don't have plots or stories to tell of there own, they are just a series of simple unscripted interactions between myself and others. Solace within the mundane. For me, being or attaining true happiness and feeling complete in life comes down to these moments in life, the purist sense of enlightenment come from the simplest things.

Wednesday, November 8, 2006

Symbolic People...

Why is it that people and past events evoke emotional needs, and what am I supposed to do with this information? I feel the need to have a sense of comfort and security, a warm blanket to snuggle in and forget about life for a while. This is the role that my symbolic person represents. It's funny how someone from your past who in all reality you no longer know can be so familiar. It's not the person that matters, rather what they gave you. A warm fuzzy womb where everything is taking care of. That's what I was given. No need to think or manage life. Just heal. I need to feel that sense of innocence again. That false sense of safety that comes as a luxury to those who are healthy. I'm tired of this illness, I'm tired of dealing with it, feeling it. I want to feel normal again. But I know that will never happen. I'm different now. Will I ever be able to climb a mountain again? Will I ever be able to get through one day without my disease creeping in to remind me that it hasn't gone away? I want to be able to walk down the stairs and go outside with out the aid of others, and without my 25ft oxygen tube that I call my leash. I want to be able to breath without thinking about it. I want to be able to take a piss and not wonder how my kidneys are fairing. I want to be able to look at some one with a cold without seeing them as an instrument of death heading in my direction. I want the calendar in my computer to be full of fun things to do and not Doctors appointments and medication regiments. I'm missing something. I need support. But I need emotional support. The kind of support that comes with a hug or an arm around the shoulder with no need for words. That intimate sense knowing and understanding, simple and pure and uncluttered by speech or sympathetic looks and worries. No need for explanations. How do I get this when I am trapped in my house away from human contact? When I don't have the ability to come and go as I please, and be a part of the world.