If I Could Do Anything...

Dear Hearts,

I am tired. So tired. I can put on the Mask. It’s habit really. When I am out and about with the living I can laugh and interact and be sincere—but it doesn’t feel sincere. It doesn’t feel real. That scrim…the veil between the world and me has fallen again.

I look at Dad’s .44 on the dining room table. 

Remember my promise, Mom? So don't freak.

Maybe I am just going fucking crazy.

I was listening to Beyonce on the way home from errands and I paused the music. I “heard” God saying that it will be all right. That I will have a Home again. I will have a place to put my things.

“I have always relied on the kindness of strangers...” (A Streetcar Named Desire)

I am so blessed in so many ways. I have a home—two home, my parents’ and G-pa’s to go to. I could live in either one. But, it’s not my home. I am literally living on my family’s generosity. That’s what family does…I know…but still…I am turning 40 in less than two months and I am reliant on the government and my family. So much to be proud of.

I-We-Mom—hit the wall with packing. We were gonna stay through Monday but we went home Sunday. I felt like I was close to losing my grip on reality. Everywhere I looked, I was just panicked. (Why does “panicked” have a “k” in it?”)

I am supposed to go on a walk with Mom. I don’t wanna. But it will justify my decadent frozen yogurt treat tonight.

My new mission is to fill two plastics containers to take back to The Holy City with me.

I know I’ve lived…

I got one sneak partially on and wondered what it would be like to be totally free? To just do what I wanted instead of what I OUGHT to do. So I said fuck it. I’m not gonna walk.

I do not recognize the person in the mirror.

I digress.

I know I’ve lived without “my things” in the House for several years. But, they were there. I knew exactly where my fluorite crystal ball was. I knew the exact location of my: stickers, fluorite wand, each Barbie, Fitzgerald and Steinbeck books, the pencil tin that I used to keep my clandestine cigarettes in, the Figment Dragon from Disney World, the ink well from the cheap gift store, the oil burner...Now these things are all in prioritized boxes.

I know that God was trying to reassure me, but…I believe…I have Faith. I do.

My life came apart at the scenes in 2012 when Gram died. The fabric can’t be put back together the way it was. It has to be mended and sewn into a totally new design. And, I don’t sew.

I keep going back in my mind to those two pieces of paper I found in my “secret space” in my desk.

The one had insurance and beneficiary information from 2014 with the clear assertion that my insurance had no suicide clauses. Those customer service reps I called that day…what did they think when I was asking about suicide clauses?

The other had what I wanted to be buried in: green dress (I don’t know which one now), cowboy boots (I didn’t have my Cross Cowboy boots yet), my tan and brown hat, my purple worry bear, and the Rosary from Salisbury in England.

I don’t know why I keep going back to those two pieces of yellow legal note paper. Finding them knocked the breath out of me. It scared me. I was fucked up. Seven months later I calculatingly took 150 pills.

I just keep going back to that note about what I wanted to be buried in.

My health for a job? My health for a house? My happiness? When was I lastly truly happy? A while ago I would have said when I first met T. But, no. My honeymoon? I don’t know. Does it matter?

I don’t know where this blog is going. It’s just tumbling out of me like rocks. Little jagged rocks.

Living life an holding it together is hard. That Dear Hearts, who don't have CD, is a full-time fucking job.

I just want to have coffee and a cigarette.

So if I lived in a world where I could do whatever the fuck I wanted—that’s what I would do right now. So that’s what I’m gonna do right now.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

PS: The Jackalope is so coming with me

PPS: I am spending my 40th Birthday on the East Coast.

PPPS: I decided to not eat with Mom and Dad and read and smoke with my coffee. That's what I wanted to do. I did it.

PPPPS: It'd be easier to fall apart.

Grateful For:

Ruby’s Frozen Yogurt

Health

Angel

Family

Faith

Cigarettes

Gaia’s great coffee

God not giving up on me
Drawing