She crossed my mind today like
a long, slow train crossing a busy road.
You know, she always seems to do
that to me when I’m under a heavy load.
I tell myself “what does it matter?”
It matters, ’cause it makes me feel so...
Sometimes I look around me and what
I see is something I’ve never seen before.
And sometimes I listen to people and
it seems they’re asking me to open a door.
There are times when everything seems
so common I can't take any more
But every once in a while I feel so...
I can tell right now I can’t
make up my mind
but I’m pretty sure
I don’t know.
More often than not things seem far more
black than white.
And when I wake up those same
gray shades get so very light—
Sometimes it makes me feel so...
You know I’m blind sometimes
and sometimes I see everything.
Times do come when even I tire of all my bitching.
She’ll cross my mind tomorrow like a long slow
train stopping across a busy road.
You know she can do that to me no matter
how heavy the load.
And I’ll think to myself “It doesn’t matter
at all,” but then I’ll look out the window
and see how the traffic has stalled.
Mental Health
Gulf
“How's the woodworking going?”
James must be thinking of my brother
“It's alright,” I offer
Have you sold anything?
“No, nothing,” I say.
“It’s a hard business to break into. A lot of people don’t appreciate it.”
He tells me about a jewelry box he made that his daughter didn't want.
I have little patience for strangers.
I don't often care to disabuse them.
They call me the wrong name
I answer their questions
About things I haven't done.
I only have so much of myself
to give away.
I’ll ask the therapist on Wednesday,
“What's wrong with me? Why is it so hard to connect with others?”
It seems like there should be some kind of answer.
Something must have happened
To make me so alien
So haughty and undeserving of kinship
Strangers tell me happy birthday
And I am angry they know something about me
Dad asks me if I’m alright.
I very clearly am not. I have been trying to keep it together
So that no one will ask me what’s wrong.
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t challenge the lie.
Minutes later I break the silence:
“Well,
I’m going home.”
Button
I haven’t wanted to ask this.
I’ve been afraid asking would be the end of our relationship.
But I’ve already wasted so much time and energy trying to figure out if
I imagined our connection—if
I’m imagining the disconnection.
Reality is hard to grasp through mania and depression,
Every crumb of attention starts the cycle over.
The truth is, our relationship ended a long time ago.
I just hadn’t figured it out until recently.
What exists now is two people who used to know each other,
Being friendly from time to time.
So what is there to be afraid of?
I’ve spent a lot of time replaying our conversations,
Trying to understand when things changed.
I am profoundly wounded that you couldn’t say, “Something’s happened. I need space.”
A friend would have said, “This isn’t working.
You need to work on this.”
So I need to know if we're friends.
What happened?
Why did things change?
Severed Connection
Late nights for days–
unable to sleep or focus or do anything,
racing thoughts down the freeway.
I was thinking of the women I know and how lovely they are,
when something reminded me of you, and I reached out–
and you were excited about the people
who still matter to you
I slept last night.
No more racing.
I was thinking how I used to be part of your life,
and how quietly you slipped away.
You didn’t even leave a note.
I sat in a chair,
thinking at nothing,
until I felt bad
Bitter thoughts may be cruel–
but joy is no ally.
The good days are a Trojan Horse.
The bad days are reality.
And each day rewrites the last,
except when emptiness comes–
and both inside and outside the horse,
there is
nothing.
I. Nothing Exists
I. NOTHING EXISTS
I remember the astonishment I felt at your interest in me. I, a lowly worm, you a bird of paradise. You brought a kind of lightness with you when you came into my life, weighed down as it is by mental illness and a strange kind of consciousness. Points of light in the darkness; weekends punctuating the months with a kind of joy that is hard to find. I told you I wanted to occupy the same physical space in the universe as you.
You left something with me when things were still good. Something you knew, a simple card with the word “YES” written on the front; inside are affirmations that I am loved. I put it on the table on the top of the stairs, to remind me every night when I went up to bed. And now I wonder if I should put it away. You tell me that I’m still loved, but it’s not the kind of love that makes me a priority or makes me feel welcome in your life.
II. EVEN IF SOMETHING EXISTS, IT CANNOT BE KNOWN.
The relationship seemed to fall into place naturally for me. I felt understood. We had deep conversations that felt meaningful about politics and society and finding ourselves within the moments that passed. I felt seen. At any point of connection I could feel how you felt about me. Maybe I wasn’t as warm to you?
And I was insecure. I shrunk myself. If a text went unanswered, it meant you were annoyed with me. It meant that my text messages were a burden. A weight I was tying around your neck; a demand. I saw myself, instead of making plans together, begging for time. And I told myself it was a cruelty towards you to feel this way. My internal dialogue scolded me for looking for ways to manipulate the situation–if I ask for some time while we talk on the phone instead of by text, it will be harder to say no.
III. EVEN IF IT CAN BE KNOWN, IT CANNOT BE COMMUNICATED
I told you recently that I had a revelation of sorts; that I was afraid to want things. It’s more than that. I believe, deep down, if I voice my want for something that thing will be taken away from me and the possibility will be ended. If I want to talk to you then you will stop wanting to talk to me. And now you don’t want to talk to me. I remember how I felt the first time you canceled plans with me. And the first time you told me you weren’t ready to schedule any time with me. “You still like me though, right?” I asked. I feel so stupid for not understanding earlier.
I wonder now if you understand how I’m feeling. That I am heartbroken. Cycling. I haven’t tried to make you aware, but surely you can tell that I’ve had a realization. That I have spiraled a bit. There is a cold kind of bitter anger welling in my heart–a small puddle, but it seems important to recognize. Resentment. I want you to call me so that I can refuse to accept the call. This petty bitter anger comes for me too–I want to go live in a cave and punish myself for this failure.
IV. EVEN IF IT CAN BE COMMUNICATED, IT CANNOT BE UNDERSTOOD
This feeling is hard. It’s like I’ve been in the process of breaking up with someone for two years. The hard part, though, is that I have been fighting against myself. Arguing that this isn’t the case. “She probably has a lot going on.” I remember seeing pictures of you at the renaissance faire with other friends on your instagram. It wounded me. Why hadn’t you wanted to go with me? Something from long ago eats at me, “If she wanted to spend time with you, she would make time for you.” Why doesn’t she want to have fun with me? A picture of you with short hair pulled the distance that had grown between us into my mind–I couldn’t ignore that you had cut your hair some time ago and that I hadn’t known. It seemed like something I would have known much sooner just a year before.
At the end of the day the only firmament I had was that I believed I was important. That I warranted a consideration. But when we talked about labels and things not practically changing, it seems we meant that the status quo of the long breakup will be maintained. I had thought it meant we were safe. And I think back on all the times I have been inconsiderate and wonder, “What if…?”
And I want to be angry that you didn’t tell me. I imagine your response, “We talked about not being partners anymore.” But when we became partners we said that it wasn’t changing things. And when you dissolved the partnership, you said that it wasn’t changing things. And I’m angry that I didn’t realize at the time we were lying to ourselves. It did change things. How could it not? I felt an immediate change when you brought up the idea of being partners with me at some nice restaurant I can’t remember. I began convincing myself immediately that nothing would change when you told me on the phone that we wouldn’t be partners anymore. Of course things changed. And I want you to tell me why. And I want you to explain your reason why to my satisfaction. And I want you to justify your explanations. And I want you to convince me.
I just want to occupy the same space as you, where our minds might overlap, and then I might know things to the degree I need to know them.
Sophistry and Solipsism in the New Millennium 