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you can never go home

I always have such bright ideas... I make things so glorious in my mind but, I can't make them come true. Every time I try, I fail. I keep getting back up on that horse and try and try and try but my engine hasn't made it over that damn mountain yet. Why, just today I had this marvelous idea of putting together a scrapbook for one of my friends as a "reasons to live" kinda thing.

I'm super attuned to things. It may not be her anymore but one of my friends is past the point of suffering. It felt like Dev was going out... like she had people around her who were keeping her alive but her little light inside was flickering. Someone helped her burn bright today but as the night creeps in, it's like that light grows fainter and fainter. It sounds stalkerish or creepy but, I dunno, I imagine that's what's going on with her. I worry a lot about my friends though. It's pretty common for me to think of these kinds of things. For instance, I know Christy is just sitting at home watching television. It feels good to her to just... sit. It's like the world around her is on pause and when it does come into play, it doesn't harm her. It's just... there. Until it interacts with her, it will always be there, just waiting for her. Again, I don't pretend to know for certain how my friends are feelings or what they are doing. This is how they are in my mind, how I imagine them through my feelings of love.

How to explain it... when you sit in bed, snuggled up just perfect so that you're between sleeping and awake, you feel something tugging at you. You know that it's not you but someone close to you. And as you explore that feeling you think of someone. It's that person and you're sure of it. As you fall deeper into the feeling, you can imagine where they are and what they are doing. Or for most people, they can feel this with songs. You listen so deeply to a song that you can place yourself on another plane. Your body becomes just a vessel and everything around you has a vibration to it. It sounds crazy but I swear, it's an intense experience.

I would live just for my friends if I could. I would be the genie for them that granted their wishes. I would cast away my own soul for their wish.

My therapist said it's unhealthy to do that. And I know it is but... at the same time I love it so much I never want to let go. We are dysfunctional. All of my friends and myself. We are products of the empty lovers who raised us. Their crimes: loving us for what we did not who we were.

In youth, you don't define yourself by what you do. You try to experience everything and don't really know what to follow to define yourself so you follow what you're told or directed towards. In this way, they create us. They mold us. Our environment takes us into its bosom and forces us into a corner. If we do not like what we are experiencing we are smothered deeper, thinking that we are not getting enough of it to enjoy it. Why were our voices not heard? Why were our souls so condemned from the beginning of it all?

We must define ourselves by our breaking away. And I broke away to my friends. When condemned twice, I refuse to break away. If I break away again, I will see the scars each time I talk to them. Each time I look around, scars. Scars and blood. I choke upon this decision. I spit up the love, red with hate and malice that have been brooding and sitting inside of me.