i am manic. Maybe it's cuz I'm starting to feel healthy after two weeks of chunky coughs and wet sniffles. It might be the result of my doc today (not my primary, but the neurologist—sort of my meta-doc) validating my decision : 19 : to come off the HIV meds. It could be that I'm feeling like I'm alive again, thanks to the simple goodness of a few who visit me here. Or perhaps the true me, now reawakening, is furious at my failure to do anything to get out of a lethally stressful job, to which I must return tomorrow.
I feel like I miss something terribly, something once familiar which I cannot now identify, the lack of which has left a cavernous need inside of me. I am just emerging from interrment within the rock and clay into the vast black emptiness its missing has left behind. I am still buried alive, only without the embrace. But there's an edge to these tears that feels like flying. Huh, get a load of that, will ya. Crying and flying. It's both at once; giddiness and yawning, a fluttering in my stomach and an ache in my chest, heaviness and light. I don't know what it is, but it's as powerful as the sea, crashing in and pulling away. Do you think I could possibly think of any goddamn more metafuckingphors! I better stay outta the street; I'm liable to either kill somebody, or marry them.
I wish the humor helped, but sometimes you just need to cry. Hold me.
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