Posted on

move move move

movement engraves

the epitaph

on your gravestone

there is an unmarked grave

with my casket therein

filled with sadness

inaction and

silence—

a din

Posted on

I’m starting to feel ready for things again

For a job

For school

For challenges

For new things

And new

people

I need to strive

And feel awkward

To thrive

And move forward

‘Cause I’ve felt so lost

And adrift

Out at sea

Without wind

Or adventure

Or camaraderie

It’s just me

Only me

And I’m mostly unseen

I don’t shine

I don’t dance

I don’t dream

~~~~~winds are blowing

and I’m coming

alive~~~~~

Posted on

The refusal to communicate is a means of communication more hostile, yet more powerful, than any other.

Fuck you. To the ends of the earth, fuck you.

Posted on

anima is free

it’s what animates me

and so strong is the bond

like an ocean beyond

what i let people see

that it never stays long

in captivity

Posted on

My wordpress app keeps crashing as soon as I open it D:

Also, being home kinda sucks without my cat here

Posted on

I’ve been feeling like there is a post in me that’s been wanting to get out for about a month now, but has been waiting for lightning to strike and set inspiration alight.

Instead, lightning struck me and I nearly died. Very nearly died. And simultaneously, my grandpa did die, which, coincidentally, is the only reason I’m alive.

It’s not kismet. There is no reason. I just spent this summer stochastically learning that there were newer, darker, deeper lows to which I was capable of sinking.

And then, I very nearly slipped into the realm of forever darkness.

Fuck. Forever darkness.

I’ve never been through anything so uniquely and powerfully terrifying, painful, and awful in my entire life.

I was on a path that ended with an epitaph.

And now….

Now I have to aspire, risk, and commit to new obligations. And it’s like…. I’m scared to make the investment, because every time I have done so, my spirit has lost all of the verve keeping it inflated, like a tire with a nail in it slowly losing air.

I left my last two jobs feeling like a wacky inflatable balloon man after the power’s been cut. A sullen heap of defeat and resignation.

And yet I know the longer I go without getting a job, the more I will sit around aimlessly and open myself up to rumination, listlessness, and ultimately, depression. The more I stall the more I stand to fall as summer fades to fall.

I’m genuinely scared of the season changing, actually. More darkness, more rain, more cold. More fertile grounds for pain.

I lose sight of it now, having gone through such an extreme event just over two weeks ago. But I’m still raw. I’m still suffering from the pain of a breakup, the trauma of losing my livelihood, and the trauma of the livelihood itself.

The breakup is worse. But the feeling, the deep, gut feeling of having reached a zenith and then lost it all…. I was so content and excited when August started last year, and then almost exactly a year later I was in a medically induced coma for days while doctors worked to save my life.

That’s how much losing my job and my girlfriend back-to-back hurt. How much it rattled me and roiled my demons. The sadness was like steroids for them, and it made the depths to which I could fall deep enough to finally really kill me.

I must doggedly stay above ground. And I must climb. And I must not squander time.

Posted on

I had the most harrowing experience of my life last week. This is a rough first account of what happened.

So the story, now that I have my full brain back.

Started drinking again, got on a reeeally bad binge cycle of drink, withdraw, give up and drink to feel better. Scared for my life bad.

I wound up losing my phone for several days, then one night checked my iPad at like 3am and saw messages from an aunt and uncle. They were saying my grandpa had died and no one could get a hold of me and everyone was worried.

I told them I was drinking again and scared I was about to join him in being dead. My uncle said to call him, and I did.

Midway through talking, I pass out. My aunt calls my dad, who calls the paramedics from SoCal to check on me.

They get in and I am not getting enough oxygen to my brain. They immediately put a tube down my throat and take me to the hospital, where they put me in an artificial coma.

They discovered an overdose of Tylenol — which I was drunkenly taking to try to make withdrawing less bad — and that my blood alcohol level was .40 when I got in.

They think I might die from liver failure. My family waits more than 24 hours not knowing if I was going to live or die.

They wound up being able to block the Tylenol well enough, and I came down from the alcohol enough that after 2 days of being in the induced coma, they wake me up.

I do not know I’ve been taken to a hospital, and wake up with a giant tube down my throat and my hands and feet shackled down to a bed, with 2 people holding my mouth open.

It was the most terrifying experience of my life.

I was in the critical care unit for 2 more days, slowly regaining the ability to move, sit up, walk. Then am transferred to another wing once I am mobile again.

During this time, I got pneumonia. One day I kept randomly hallucinating from the alcohol withdrawal.

Ultimately, I was in the hospital for 7 days.

I got out and discovered I had lost my ID, which prevented me from going to my grandpas funeral 2 days later.

But I am alive.

Had my grandpa not died, my aunt and uncle wouldn’t have messaged me on Facebook. I would have stayed passed out and died, either from brain death due to not getting enough oxygen to my brain or liver failure.