Sometimes.

Man,sometimes I just have no idea what’s going on for me.

I get lost and stuck and feel a life force ebb away like sand slipping through an hourglass. Then I stare blankly at my life and wonder where I am,who I am,what I’m doing and why the fuck I’m even bothering. Then go back to staring blankly because it takes less energy than being angry.

I realised today I hadn’t seen anyone for a week or so socially. Then,worst of all, I realised I hadn’t seen myself. Hadn’t met myself in a while. Hadn’t taken time to meet Spirit. Hadn’t taken the bloody time to live a little. Not go out or party as living a little seems to mean but live. With myself. I need a good cry yet I’ve cried alone so many times I’m reluctant.

I need to write. This and my poetry but this scares me as I’ll get in touch with myself and I’m hesitant because I can see fear in the distance,tears in the distance so I try to keep them there. Yet they follow me,an unshakable presence that I can’t hide from.

So I numb without even noticing. An occasional flash of anger,a tear remind me I’m alive.

So I know I need to write. I need to come home yet I’m scared. Scared that I’ll be alone again in my darkness. I’ve always been alone when the darkness comes,never anyone there.

Yet then maybe it won’t be darkness. Maybe joy.

Maybe I’m afraid of being happy. Yet a voice says I’ll never be happy,that’s for other people. Dreams come true for other people. Falling in love and being loved is for other people.

Shame whispers. Happiness beckons if I dare to live.

Do I dare? My shame seems to tired to tear me down,almost like it’s trying to get up the energy but it can’t. Maybe I’m getting healthier…no you’re not!!! Shame cries,get back to me when you’ve lost some wait you fat fuck. Oops, shame still there. Gently ease into life again. Play at smiling and believing in the good stuff. I do deserve good stuff and this thought makes my stomach churn. Alien. Alien concept Tom having the good stuff.

It’s as if I had a taste of life being how I’d like it…playful,joy,fun,a girl I liked liking me,being loved,accepted,praised,enjoyed. But it’s gone in a flash and I just have to build up again,take a breath.

It’s tiring though. So tiring I’m almost unable to get excited about Pearl Jam. And I know this is a terribly threatening thing for my shame.doing something I love,having worked for the money,being amongst new people.

Tired.

Tired of numbing,of hiding from myself,of not taking risks.

Tired.

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