Sometimes.

October 8, 2009

pastandpresentshipsSometimes I feel like I woke up in the middle of open heart surgery. Not real surgery with anesthesia and trained professionals. TV surgery that was somehow necessary in the middle of a camping trip. My heart exposed and vulnerable while it gets poked and prodded and I silently comply.

Sometimes I feel like I need too much.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell I am doing.

Sometimes I wish I could start over. Where is the redo button? Yeah, yeah, I know– what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. How can I be sure it didn’t kill me? I think sometimes it did. And through the power of lightning and self-delusion I am still walking but it’s all a patchwork of my rotting remains. All I need is the green skin and the side attachments at my temples.

Sometimes I get scared that the things that hurt 14 years ago will never stop hurting.

Sometimes I wish I were a much better actress. Or just a liar. This truth stuff can really suck.

Sometimes I feel like I am the middle of open heart surgery. Bleeding and breaking and still pumping away while we all try to figure out how to keep it beating and pour asbestos over it, sure somehow that’s good for me.

Sometimes I wish I knew how to take the road more traveled.

Sometimes even chocolate won’t help.

Sometime I miss you. Jerk and bastard though you were to me. I wish I could be dismissive of the whole picture and just remember the ick. Instead I am more likely to remember the nights we’d wake up and giggle like kids or the games we played or the adventures we had. I hate you a little for that, even though it’s kind of my fault.

Sometimes I eat fudge for breakfast.

Sometimes I can’t handle what I think I want.

Sometimes I feel like I am in the middle of open heart surgery. With all my friends doing what they can to help me stop the bleeding.

Sometimes healing really hurts.

Sometimes I doubt myself in every way.

Sometimes.

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