The oddest thing

It was the oddest thing, I was laying down. Getting ready to go to sleep. Feeling like I was worthless. Like everything was going to be horrible forever. You know, depression brain. This is a bad time of year. September 19th.

But I was going to sleep, covered up, getting comfortable and I closed my eyes. And about ten seconds later there was a flash of light. That I saw with closed eyes.

And the strangest thing. The depression was gone. Just gone. Like a switch had been flipped. This was last night. And I woke up, and it’s still gone.

I reach for it. I know how to bring it up. Trying to examine it. And it slips away. Like it’s not there.

I don’t know what this is. Or how long it will last. It’s like I was in pain and the pain is just gone. It’s staggering like I’ve been holding on to it and leaning on it. And now it’s gone and I feel light and free. And I don’t fear it coming back or anything.

Something misaligned got fixed…maybe the simulation we are in got a patch.

-Fixed: Depression in sector 7g

Eye plucked out and hung

Don’t want to feel like I need to apologize for falling in love
Too soon? What is that? Too soon for who? Sure I don’t know everything about her, so what? Learning about someone is a relationship. Seeing them as they grow and change and embracing those changes. That’s a relationship. People tell me that I say it too soon, that I should live in the moment. Where else is there to live? The moment realized is a byproduct of future planning but failure to plan is failure to realize. Love is always a Work in progress. That pure crystalline love that never waivers or changes is the fairytale and maybe that’s the standard people hold to and that’s why we are so unhappy.

When I say I love you it’s no perfection. No crystalline structure of atoms waiting for the right forces to shatter it. It is the messy growing complex thing that becomes as things change and accommodates new structures to become a whole. Not unwavering or unyielding but instead resilient and capable of change.

Through a series of missteps I grew used to apologizing for what I feel.

I don’t want that. I want someone who sees me and likes that I’m a poetical kind romantic who will spank you and play in dark and light ways all while abiding in a column of love. And sees that I go through darkness too, and knows that I’m there despite my challenges.

Even now I feel like I have to apologize for being too much. I want someone who sees my too much and knows it for enough.

Realizing times passage

That moment in your otherwise ok life when you look up and remember what’s over the horizon and you are instantly overwhelmed. The past comes round again, no matter how much time passes, it’s always there lurking and ready to ambush you. Tarnishing your thoughts with grief and an impending sense of falling.

Today I wondered why I was feeling sad. I should be happier. Things are going ok. Then I realized, just over a month away is the 13 year anniversary of Morgan’s death.

And like that, I’m adrift.

Getting ready for work in the too quiet

I retreat from the world into sleep every time I feel that liar in my head telling me that I’m not worth the relationships I have. That it’s no wonder that I’m alone. This litany of, I want to say lies, but I’m in it right now and I can’t say whether or not there is some truth to it. I mean I feel the weight of it. How could the people I lean on not feel that weight? And they have their own worries too. I hate adding to them. So I usually sleep and I feel better after doing so. But today I can’t do that. I have been up since midnight and I need to get ready for work. And I’ll probably be fine once I’m there and the armor goes up but it doesn’t go away and sometimes it breaks free. In these moments before I get ready, I think that I need a vacation but that’s just time alone in my head and that’s what I have now. Except, I’d get to sleep and yearn for even the limited connection that coworkers bring.

I guess most days I try to do a better job of being the man Morgan needed than I did when she was alive. If I was who I am now, she’d be by my side. And other days I think she was the only person who wanted me and look how I fucked that up. And I know it’s bullshit and that I did what I could but it doesn’t feel that way.

I think about how, if I’m this better person, why do my relationships never make it past that heady rush of the beginning months? Why do I feel the same and why do they not want me?

I feel like I’m flailing about just trying to move forward and I worry that I sometimes feel like an open wound. I hear my friends telling me that they want me around.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Just that I’m tired and want to sleep and I’m tired of finding people and losing people. Is the fault in the choice or the execution? I try to be less “I love you” now. Because I say it too soon?

Maybe they think it’s desperation or a projection of need? But my pain is knives turned inward. My perception and standards remain intact. I know how I feel. It’s just experience tells me that that doesn’t matter. No matter how much you love someone, they leave you. Better they know now, before it’s too late.

Why I cry, sometimes for no evident reason

There is something in me that always wants more. More time with someone I like. More conversations, more touch, more laughter. More falling in love, hopefully together. And I think I understand why now.

As a child, I was alone. Surrounded by siblings old enough or young enough to be distant but still present. I would ride my bike for hours out in the heat. Alone. I would ride down alleyways discovering petty secrets. I would ride for miles down back streets in the quiet empty of the asphalt heat ocean. I would come back home and gulp down water and read some book meant for adults, having long since out read the local library of children’s offerings. The crackle of the polyurethane dust jacket and the silent turning of pages. Days and days left alone, because I didn’t seem to need attention, and others did.

I grew up filling this vast uncharted lonely expanse with temporary friends, ideas, and intense desire for a connection. But, I was both shy and quick witted, stung by others comments I would carve out their hearts with a sharp tongue and feel flushed with guilt and triumph. And I watched as others who seemed normal to me found connections and were seemingly happy. It looked so easy for them. Like breathing.

I turned to computers and twisted even further inward. My family emphasized practicality and money. I lost myself. And by the time I surfaced, I was successful and faceless. People knowing me was dangerous so no one did. Certainly not my family. And there was no one else. Until Morgan shattered my world. And everything changed. Like waking from a coma to find the world had moved on. Briefly, through, seemingly no action I took other than saying yes at the right moment, I was whole. She filled me in ways I’m still aching from.

Because well, you can read about Morgan on your own.

And I was so numb after, I just didn’t notice. But I started waking up almost four years ago. And that intense need for connection drives me. I fall in love. It’s not attachment. I’m not a baby bird. I just see people and they are beautiful. How can I not love them? I’m learning to suppress it but love always bursts out. Connection. More. An intense need to have them see themselves how I see them. To help them.

I don’t get people who don’t know if they have ever felt love. There are people who I would shift the world for, if I could.

But I think they see that empty vastness inside me. I understand how it’s too much. No one can fill it. No single person. But you wouldn’t be. I have friends, fellow poets and writers. Sometimes the vast empty swallows me and I seem like I’m way too much too soon. I’m sorry for that.

And a part of me says, “stay, just stay.” and another part whose all too familiar, knows that you’ll go, and another part would do much to be proven wrong and fill the vast empty with something other than echos.

Thoughts after,

So I have this thing, and I’m sure I’m not alone, or maybe I am but there is this thing that my brain starts to do after a date or really when anything good happens. My brain starts to analyze. And I say my brain and distance myself because I am consciously saying to myself, “don’t do this. I guarantee that you are misreading this. Stop, please stop.” But does it stop? No it does not. It will go over every word, every gesture, every touch and just rip it apart looking for some hidden meaning and, if it can’t find one, starts to whisper things that I think, that I hope is bullshit. But that’s the trap, right? They sound almost true. And in sounding almost true, we think….maybe. And it will start small and by the end you are crippled with self doubt.

But I digress, maybe sleep will help.

I feel relaxed for the first time in a while. That has to be a good result. Let’s hope for more, because that’s what I do.

Confusion is a base state

I almost wish that my emotions didn’t run so hot.
That they didn’t rush like tsunami. Seemingly dry and nonexistent as the waters pull back, until they rush forward, overwhelming my heart. It seems like I only find those unavailable to me as people who make my heart burst like fire. But it’s not true. It’s just that those who are unavailable are often the only ones who show any interest in me. At least in a way that I recognize as interest. I can be obtuse in this regard.

I don’t know. I dislike not knowing. I love to know everything. How else will I see true if I cannot see all?

I wish I knew. Whatever paths led where. Even in general. Because I can’t trust my judgment. My judgment leads me to love and to breaking.

You know…I didn’t pick Morgan. She picked me.
It makes me wonder. Because every time I trust my judgment, while they don’t destroy me in harder ways, I’m still devastated. When it ends. When it fails.

I don’t know the way forward.

Too tentative

I’ve been told that I’m squishy. Or too nice. That I was too sappy or too romantic.
It’s true and not true.
Tell me what you need and give consent and the Claws can come out to play. My limits are few but I need consent to be given. Otherwise, I’m just a man who will help and emotionally support you, like a good Sir but never crossing the line.
Not because I don’t know how or don’t want to cross it, but because I do.

Consent, ongoing and enthusiastic, should never be seen as a bad thing. There are those who would say that I should just take when it seems like consent is given. I can’t. I won’t. Informed, enthusiastic, ongoing. It’s the only way to fly or float as the case may be.

Ramblings of a writer

I woke as Anthony and went to sleep as Pelgris. And though seemingly innocuous, I can’t help but think I lost in the process.

Some know my First name because it’s on my short story collection on Amazon. Some because I’ve shared it privately.

Pelgris is a public persona and very much a part of me. But it’s not everything. I hold pieces of myself back that only people who have private contact with me will see. Maybe that’s disingenuous, but I hope not.

But I woke with a hello Anthony in my inbox and went to sleep with a goodnight Pelgris. And it felt like a goodbye.

I’m probably overreacting. But emotions care little for rationality.

In a way, I dislike that my personal life is published. But this is my process and I can’t let something go until it diffuses out.

I hope they see it as I intend it. I am not sharing my feelings directly because my obsession with words should not cause you to rethink how you feel or interact with me.

And frankly, this is what I am. I write. Sometimes poetry, sometimes not, but I write. And to confine myself to public experience is to quash the internal sense that connects us.

Sounds like a excuse for incorrect behavior. I guess I can only say that I try very hard to disguise the who’s from the general public and only those in it will know from context.

And we can always talk, privately.

This went on longer than I thought. The first part is the important bit, the emotional bit. The rest is process. Anthony things rather than than Pelgris things.

Starting to spin

Sometimes I want to do nothing but monopolize someone’s time. I don’t have anything to say really or event to go to or anything. I just want all of them, as much as I can handle and then a little bit more.

That makes me feel like a burden. Like, what the fuck? Where do I get off taking up all their time? They have a life, they have things to do. Moreover they probably don’t feel the same, but I won’t say anything. Because I feel like I don’t deserve it. And I’m a little afraid that they will shut me down.
Even more that they won’t but it’ll just be the once and I can’t stomach just one time when I feel like this.

I don’t know. I’d like to blame it on my 3 hours of sleep but I know that just sharpens the edges. It doesn’t make me feel anything that I wouldn’t normally feel.