I know I haven't been here in awhile.

There hasn't been much to talk about. My struggles remain the same, unchanged. My life is my life. I am coming to terms with that. My moods are still subject to change like the wind. Everything with me is uncertain, especially my personality. It's gone. There's no more fire to me. I've lost my spark. The thing that I thought was the worst of me is now gone...and I realize it was the best of me. If you read my other blog, you would think I had multiple personality disorder. It's the other side of me, the flip side. There are definately two women within me. The fake me vs. the real me. Not fake as in lies...but fake as in...putting on a show. I am great at taking an audience. I love a crowd and I love standing above it. It's always been a dream to be on stage, performing...and when I do, it's an amazing rush.

Now, I have nothing to say.

Sadness in my eyes, no one guessed, no one tried.

My mood can change with a song. A simple gesture like a kiss. A commercial. A sentence. I can't hold myself responsible any longer. I am lost in a way that I thought I never could be. I don't have control of myself. And all this medication? What is it for precisely?

So the words you could not say,
I'll sing them for you.
And the love we could have made,
I'll make it for two.
For every single memory
has become a part of me.
You will always be...
my love.

My husband is my rock. My strength. He is going to be leaving soon...for work. I don't know if I am going to be able to handle it again. It means having to live on my own...to be alone with me. I haven't done that in so long that I don't know if I can make it. I hate being so dependant on him. I used to be so far above all of that...a very independent woman with a very certain plan...a direction. I go back to school this week...starting the advancement of my nursing career. 40 years old...and I just decided what I want to be...if I grow up.

I've wasted so much time. So much damn time.

My mother and I spoke today. Randy, the brother of an old friend, passed away today. He was 38 years old. 38. His life ended...just as I think I am starting mine. His brother Scotty was a friend of mine a long time ago. We were all, in my circle of friends, 23 years old when Scott died of non hodgkins lymphoma. I remember kissing Scotty once...when we were 16. I liked his kisses because he had cancer. I felt like I was kissing life into him...and at the same time, I was kissing someone who was dying. He had cancer for as long as I can remember meeting him...we were 15 years old. When he died, I sunk into a depression. It was my first real brush with my own mortality. Someone I had kissed was gone...and for some reason, that struck a cord deep within me. Now, all these years later...17 exactly, his brother Randy died of the same exact thing.

And, in measurement, it puts life into perspective.

His mother is at home, grieving the loss of her youngest son, her only surviving son. Lost, to the same thing that killed Scott all those years ago. Scott had a wife by 23. He had a son. Randy had no one in his life. No legacy. Nothing...nothing but his memory.

This depresses me more than you know.

What is the legacy I will leave behind? Will anyone remember me 17 years from now? Does anyone remember me now? Think of me? Think I made a difference in their life? I wonder about that. A lot. I don't think that beyond my own family, I have made much of an impression on anyone. Yes, I know that making an impression upon ones own family is important. But, I wonder if anyone thinks of me as a person that breathed life into them...like I think Scott thought of me. No one wanted to kiss him when we were kids. Almost afraid to catch his cancer. I wasn't scared. I wasn't. I still wouldn't be.

For what's the use of pressing palms
when children fade in mothers arms?
It's a cruel world
with so much to lose
and what we have to learn
we rarely choose.
So if it's God who took her son
he cannot be the one
living in her mind.
Take care, my love, she said.
Don't think that God is dead.
Take care, my love, she said.
You have been loved.

I think back to high school now and then. I wonder about who recalls me. I was such a moody young woman. I was angry all the time. I wasn't a very nice person back then. I was manipulative to a certain extent...a shit stirrer if you will. I spent most of it in fist fights...proving to everyone that my strength matched my mind...superior to everyone. I was a bully. I don't like that now. I know I made impressions on those people. One in particular...Laura Giordano. I used to pick on her every single day...just beat her ass down for any reason I could conjure up.

I wonder where she is now...and if she could ever forgive me.

I close my eyes
then I won't see
the love you do not feel
when you're holding me.
Morning will come.
And I'll do what's right.
Just give me til then
to give up this fight.

I assume, perhaps wrongly, that my deep depressions are retributions from all of those I have wronged in my life. There are so many. So many. I never used to think I had regrets, but only weak people say that. You know, to prove how strong they are. Strong people can admit they have regrets. I hurt so many people in my life. If I gathered them all together, I would need a mammoth stadium to fill them with.

Everything I believed about myself was a lie. Everything.

I am so full of truth now, instead of full of shit. I tell inappropriate truths from time to time and sometimes, I feel they hurt as much as a lie.

Excuses.
The rich declare themselves poor.
And most of us are not sure
if we have too much
but we'll take our chances
cause God stopped keeping score.
I guess somewhere along the way,
he must have let us out to play.
And all God's children crept out the back door.

I never went to the 20th reunion of my high school. Too much I couldn't face there. Scotty wouldn't be there. Ex boyfriends would be. People I spent the night with would be there. People I beat up with either my words or my fists would be there. Certainly it would be the best time to express my apologies to these people. This is the coward in me. I can't face it so I didn't. It's just my way. Distance yourself from the things you can't handle. Wallow in your own depression as penance. That's me.

It's hard to love when there's so much to hate.
Hanging onto hope
when there is no hope to speak of.
And the wounded skies above
say it's much too late
so maybe we all should just
pray for time.

I don't know where this is going precisely. It's just what is on my mind today. I will never commercialize this blog. It's all I have left in the way of finding peace. No one needs to know. No one needs to throw me a pity party. I am my own celebutante dancing at my own ball. I have to learn how to dance on my own. It's time.

To the heart and mind,
ignorance is kind.
There's no comfort in the truth,
pain is all you'll find.








*all quotes: George Michaels.*