Friday, September 2, 2011

can't go there

6/13/2002



oh man, i can't talk about this stuff. i know that's what's coming next. dr c will want ME to tell about MY feelings and memories about this stuff and i can't. god i just can't. jeez i've hardly talked to him at all in what, like 2 years? and when i do he's so damn sympathetic and all 'it's not your fault and you've done a lot to help' i'm so sick of hearing that. i haven't done shit. how have i helped if i cldn't stop it from hpning?
the blades are in the van. if i get out the slip n slide i can keep the kids busy and just take my shower and make it feel better. but with going to the beach and all, there's no good vein to hit that i can hide and CF will have a cow. besides, if i do it right then we'll be too anemic to do anything with the kids and between that and the house, we can hardly keep up anyway. i don't want to wind up having to get transfused again but what else am i supposed to do? sit in somebody's office and cry like a baby and tell them all the awful stuff that's hpnd? tell about all the stuff we did cuz there wasn't anything else we cld do? talk about the ppl in their profession who fucked us worse than anyone else? talk about wanting to die more than anything? it's not like it's an option now and all talking about it will do is make me not care who gets hurt if i do.

thoughts and emotions
suspended in time
as water cascades
pouring from my face
all along my flesh
washing away the filth of my existence
the blade
so shiny and new
quickly and cleanly
releasing the pain
a river of warmth
in cascades from my arm
swirling in red and pink streams
around and around the drain
washing away the filth of my existence
sinking to the floor
as relief settles in
and the fear and anguish
the rage and despair
subside for the moment
washing away the filth of my existence

reese