timeless

there are lists that should never exist. i should not have these contingency plans. i should not know what i'll do in the event of catastrophe, and my actions should not be ranked according to the importance of the victim. if someone from circle A dies, i have a plan for that. or circle B. the circles widen outward. how long can we maintain this tension? how long can we keep doing this? how long will we keep holding our breath this time, if two years isn't long enough? i'd literally JUST relaxed my grip. we all know this. and now, nothing. i can't. i realized this morning i wrote "litany" on the train yesterday, on the one month anniversary. it really doesn't feel like a month. i realized the other day, i associate the word "timeless" with sadness, partly because i associate it with this feeling. to me, timelessness is to exist outside of time, and one exists outside of time when it's a crisis. i've been in crisis mode for a month now, and you know what? it could've been a week, for all i knew. the dates move on the calendar but i remain, confused. i associate "timeless" with hospital waits. with the car on the way to a funeral. with the plane ride. with the worst week of my life. with the nights when who you sleep next to doesn't matter as long as it's a warm body. "timeless" is not a word for jewels and art. it is a word for the strangely numb protracted ripping feeling.

i haven't been bothering to write. what's to write about? my depression? my overwhelming sadness? (the two are distinct.) oh, and the emptiness. i feel empty, too. so many emotions to cram in for someone who claims exhaustion. my friends and i have reached the point where we have nothing to say to each other but we stay on the phone anyway. we need the connection. but the emptiness . . . it's a drifting endless feeling that i need to end. i need for it to stop. i need to feel less hollow. but what is there to fill this space in my life? a terrible fear, that's what. well, i'd rather hold the fear at bay by remaining empty then, if it's all the same to you. because it's untenable, it's unfaceable, this unreal reality that my life has become. this is such a strange journey. it just gets weirder. and yes, i am feeling sadness, but it is an exquisite, tempered sadness. my grief is more measured this time. at least, right now. i haven't let go yet. i can feel the screams though. i am scared for them to fade and scared for them to get out so i clutch them to me. they're there.

and to distract myself? the same thing i've always used, just in a different way this time. the obsession over it rather than a concrete act - is there really any difference? and aren't yall tired of it? i know i am. i'm tired of myself, tired of my own antics, my own crutches. mostly just tired of human charades. my mentors are leaving and flying to pieces, i'm not sure which relationships to salvage, i'm worried about my future. the more i learn the less i want to know. the more i look the less i can turn away from the train wreck of existence. argh. this is what happens when i try to write stream of consciousness. i feel cranky.