and it is that much harder for me to write. i have to fight sleep and write at night, when i'm inspired. have to.
written by me, taken from elsewhere.
i have told myself im parting ways with my past. at least the more distant past. i meet new people, and every new relationship with a friend, a companion, whomever...each new beginning is a test. can i establish a firm foundation while omitting some of the things that have shaped me?
all of the temporal distance from events, from being sick, makes it seem like maybe i dont have to talk about it. what have i been doing? where am i going? i have a future now, and the dark parts of my past are further behind me...but can i really just skim over those two years of on again/off again? i want someone to want me...not to pity me, not to treat me differently, not to be put into a situation they cant process, nonetheless react to.
this time, i was doing good. then we started talking about drinking. you dont drink...and i used to drink to deal with myself. so i could feel something through the haze of the pills, the numbness of my skin, the neverending static in my thoughts. but how do i say that? without bringing it all in? saying i was on medication brings me to why i was on medication which brings me to being ill. there is no way to avoid it, and still be honest and candid with you.
and then there are the permanent signs. the ones i added hour after hour with the buzzing of needles ringing in my ears. and the ones added by scalpel, which i would do anything to remove. at least social stigma keeps you from asking about those...for now...but the ink is something that means more than my skin or a lasting reminder, it is truly a part of me.
you ask what it means, and i say they each mark a turning point in my life. well, what about your hip? why invincible? oh, i got it right after i went into remission (the second time). its an easy enough answer, but the implications are far to heavy to weigh on anyone but myself...its enough as it is. i dont want to ruin things...it always ruins things. maybe adds a layer of intrigue that i might not possess otherwise, but not in a beneficial way. i just want to be me...and who i am now, not what has defined me up until this point. however, it is becoming increasingly clear that the two are inextricably tied.
