Sitting watching the stuff I need to get done for work run, watching the world fill up with snow, watching everything falling apart around me. I guess sometimes it is goon that no one gets up this obscenely early to witness my finest hours.
This morning I forced myself to publish a poem. I set a goal. Even if they totally suck I’m going to stick to it. The last couple weeks have been really really hard to get the words to come. They suck. I know they suck. I know there isn’t a damn thing I can do about them sucking. And right now I don’t even care.
I’m trying to tie knots to hang on to. I’m trying to help bear tie knots and he just keeps untying them. I know he is scared, but I don’t know what to do to keep him from falling apart.
You know you’re crying too much when your bra gets soggy…
It’s infusion week. The stress and not sleeping are making my hands really cranky… which is fabulous when you HAVE to get stuff done by noon and your hands aren’t working and everything depends on you not failing at the on freaking thing that you haven’t yet quite failed at. I don’t even want to go get tied to my chair this month.
I can’t even fake being normal right now. How the hell do I go back to faking being normal?
I watch him, hear him, giving up. He doesn’t even want to take the next test. He doesn’t want to know any more. He thinks maybe it is better not to know. But you can’t fight what you don’t know. I don’t know how to help him fight when all I want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the blankets over my head and never move again.
But I can’t. I have to suck it up and wipe away the tears and get dressed and go to work and make sure that everything everywhere is okay when I know it’s not. I guess I need to get my shit together and fake it till I make it. I just have to find a way to make it.
I hate losing myself. I hate it so badly it isn’t even funny. I hate being so scared I’m going to lose him that I can taste it… like the bitter taste of bile and the salty taste of tears and the cold taste of nothing.