this is not done. So I copied it from 01.19.00 to try and get it closer to complete. Sometimes a given day is not long enough to get done all the things that the day asks you to do. Sometimes a life is not long enough.
i want you to suffer beneath my ecstasy. I want you to be the boy, and I will be the man that I've been waiting to become ever since I suffered down there too. Mounting that spectacular pinnacle surely lifts a man into higher realms of joy, ...surely it does. Surely. The men on me must have found heaven in that hole. It has to be that way, it costs so much. Don't tell me that there wasn't something like God right there, when my body saved my soul and pushed it from that burning plane. Don't tell me that I was nothing more than a chewed-up wad of bubblegum, spat into the gutter.
It must have been love, that thing the neighbor did to me—when I was small. It must have been absolutely to-die-for. It can't be the other way; it just can't. I won't let it.
I got to survive.
But it was the other way. And the burning plane—it never crashes. For over thirty years they've been seperated, my soul falling through mid-air and looking back guiltily at my body—still crashing, still burning, still wailing and crying, and still alone. It has always kept on that way, because it hurt too much to go back. Just admitting that things are still this way is almost more than I can bear.
But I got to survive. But it was the other way. How the hell do they go together? It's like saying 'to go on you got to go back, to survive you got to die, to hold on you got to let go.' I survived for 36 years by abandoning ship, by dividing my soul from my flesh.
You are a lucky one—and probably rare, too—if you have never lost compassion for yourself, or hid from it like most of us do. You can't hate if you are undivided, if love and you are one. You can't kill yourself either, because there is no power on earth—no terror or agony—that cannot be overcome when you are one.
I have been divided in two, like a man from a boy, like a mother from her child, like Romeo from Juliet. And I would leave it that way, except now my body is in trouble. It has been in trouble before, and that didn't change things, but this trouble is different. This time my body and soul are confronted by the spectre of their demise.
you know, it's almost funny; it was a crisis that broke me in two, and now a crisis presents the possibility of my restoration.
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