“Why you waiting, so sick and fuckin’ tired of waiting
I don’t wanna see nothing, just curl up and die.”— Holly McNarland, “After I’m Gone”
Interesting day. Had the chance to go to lunch (in civilization!) with someone special. It was nice. Wish I could do that sort of thing more often.
It was supposed to be a dinner date but something came up and he asked if we could do drinks around five. Which, please. Seven is the earliest I see the light of night. Deadlines and all. But I was able to sneak out midday.
I felt alive for a moment. Like, maybe I’m not completely imprisoned to this existence.
I feel like I died about a decade ago, after I forfeited a trip to see my BFF in Oregon because I was literally working around the clock. Like, I lost airfare, man. Fuck that shit.
Shortly afterward, my grandfather died and mom moved in. And my life mostly ceased to be my own ever since.
The only reason I didn’t leave the job is because it was there for me in my time of need. Even when Psycho tried to use that opportunity to get me fired, they not only kept me but my people took care of me. And let’s face it, being a workaholic got me out of the house, which I needed at the time.
I guess now I’m the undead. Every once in a while the corpse gets warmed up and shown there’s more to life than going from graveyard to graveyard.
I got to thinking about Pittsburgh, how I used to go to the Point, where the three rivers met, for inspiration. You would always find me with a diary there, dreaming.
I don’t dream anymore. I wonder if I’ll ever get the ability back.
“Are you listening, no you’re never listening
I just wanna feel something, I just don’t feel alive.”
Please forgive the pity party. My heart should be lighter than usual. But that’s usually when it hurts the most, when I get that glimmer of hope … the one that the universe has a funny way of taking away when I start to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, the next dream will come true if only I dare to entertain it.
That is, if I remember how …