Threw the Rope

Been thinking about things I shouldn't be thinking about lately.

A is still gone, I keep trying to resurrect him but he's buried himself deep like a tick and I don't have the strength to dig him out. I think it's also my subconscious telling me that I can't fall into any more rabbit holes, and that A is too good to be true anyway. I need to stop focusing on bringing back A and focus more on being H. Wherever she goes, he follows. That's how I designed him. A would not let H suffer alone.

But I don't know how to be her either.

Sometimes I find myself driving and talking to you. Telling you things you do not know. I never imagine your answers, and when I look over I can't imagine you there. You're still this presence in my head that I feel that I have to impress, and I wish I could reach through my ear and find that nest where you molder and rip you out.

I think it's the Quarantine Crazies because this was not happening before.

Separating this shit from reality is getting harder and harder. I can't tell the things I really feel apart from the lonely, bored, and curious cycles of my brain taking me somewhere I do not want to go. Resisting it comes in the form of Treme binges, the furious re-readings of The Man I Love, baths, and lots of breakfast at night. Treme brings me back to Fat Tuesdays on St. Charles, waking up in a hotel room and going to Zulu, sitting up in my ladder chair, always afraid that Dad is going to lean back too far to catch a bead and pull me down to the ground. But those Mardi Gras mornings were awesome, whether we caught Zulu or went to the Luling or the night parades. It makes me remember that carefree feeling of 'anything can happen', Mardi Gras or not. And my Dad never let me fall.

I miss that carefree feeling more than anything. The feeling of being safe, the excitement of adventure, of waking up early and chasing that light that I love so much. I miss being able to tip over and have someone gently fill me up, and no, you dirty fucks, that is not sexual. Something is missing inside of me, some essential chunk that broke off and is floating somewhere back there, either tangled up in trees or sunken. The loss feels like a tooth with an exposed nerve. The rest of me is still chugging along the best it can, but I am starting to realize that I may have to live with this exposed tooth for a long time.

And I'm fucking tired of being so 'emo'. I've never been what you call a 'happy' individual, but I used to have a rule for myself, and that rule was 'always have something to look forward to', and I stuck to that rule. Right now there's tubing, but I'm trying not to get too excited about that until it gets a bit closer. But man, it'll feel good to get on that river. To have people over, to laugh, to chase all of this shit out of my brain because it's too busy trying to comprehend the overwhelming and increasing godlessness of my friends.

Aaron Lewis has to stop knowing me.

-Rae

Well it seems that I've come

To a fork in the road

With a knife and a breeze at my back

With no way to move forward

And really no way to turn back

And my nights are too long and too lonely

And my day time still filled with this pain

With me stuck in the middle

Without the right words to explain