I used to be a fool.
People used to talk about having my head in the clouds, I was flattered, and people used to say how one should be grounded, I felt that was the deepest insult imaginable. I was so proud to be the dreamer, and I know they brighten the world but at what cost to themselves? I have been hurt. Oh it's nothing new to the world, this baby heartbreak, but this hopeless pain is new to me. My perfect world, my priveleged life, flaking away to the truth. He told me I didn't smile enough and everyone yelled "impossible!" I think in some way everyone wanted me to be that flawless dreamer, that hopefull romantic. Maybe some need that girl to exsist. I'm sorry that I can't be that hero though, I've been tainted just like the rest. I cannot be the last hope. Nor should anyone want me to be.
Ignorance was bliss. Witness the death of my closed blinded eyes. And like the baby's they are opening slowly, taking in the light of reality, blinking against the pain. She told me it would get worse before it got better. This is the worse part. Better is soon to come.
I spent months calling my friends and family and crying to them, begging them to make me feel better. And please don't think I'm not grateful, I truly deeply and forever am. But the days kept coming and suddenly my friends moved on and my family didn't notice anymore. I began to resent happiness and phone calls didn't fix anything, a week on a holiday with my family only made it worse. I was alone and one my favorite times of year, christmas, came and went with my bitter heart flaming angrier every day. My dreams are haunted more and more by christmases that could have happened and natural disaters depicting my mental state. Last night there was a hurricane.
I gave up drinking. At least until February, hopefully forever. This is when the true soul searching begins. The snow is helping. I am stuck in my apartment again cause when I tried to leave I spun out and hit the curb. No worries, no lasting damage. The snow helps, and now this pain.
This delicious pain, the searing fire licking along my ear. Tattooes are nothing compared to this, I suddenly know why people pierce their entire faces now. It hurts oh so good.
I walked in alone, no friend to hold my hand. I waited for my turn and watched spongebob squarepants on the tv. He called me back and sat me on the table, no sugar coating or asking me if I was ready. Very few words, he cleaned my ear and marked it. He laid me back and told me to turn my head to the opposite wall. A red, exremely wrinkled cloth hung on the wall, and I studied every wrinkle intently. I think later when I remember the day that red wrinkled cloth will the strongest memory I have. I felt his hands on my ear and he told me, take a deep breath. I inhaled and then that sickly thud and crunch. I hissed out my breath. As in many many other situations I was so thankful for my yoga lessons. I breathed deep into the pain and felt my shoulders sink into the table. Deep breath again, a second puncture, and release. Just like that. I smiled at the wrinkled red cloth and wrapped my wicked excitment around the throbbing ache. He cleaned it and told me to sit up. He handed me the mirror and it was done. Sleek and subtle it hugs my ear. I love it.
I punched a wall the other day. Not hard, but just to see. It felt great, my knuckles blossomed red and my heart's pain submitted slightly to the surface ache. I imagined it would not be the last time or the most severe until today. My heart has been given blinders. When it sways to the side or tries to look back and sinks back into darkness I have a new pain to settle its wanderlust. All I need to do is focus and I'm right back there, craddling the sharp sting in a grateful sigh. He told me it would take two months to heal. I have two precious months to heal my heart until my blinders are no longer necessary. I have been given a great gift today, and I gave it to myself.
There is no wit tonight because this soul knows no brevity. I have overused analogies or spun out conflicting ones. I don't care. My fingers are flying and I'm giving them freedom. Because it feels good, and to feel good these days is a cherished thing. If you're still with me worries, if you're not then good this whole entry was for me anyway. But now Scoot is scratching at my side for a good cuddle and I'm inclined to oblige him. But I will say lastly today I feel every bit of my 24 years. I'm learning what it is to be an adult on my own, and I'm realizing that I can stand alone. I still know my friends will come whenever I beckon, but I'm finally learning the art of dealing with my life on my own. So I'll balance my pains, and as one deepens I'll lean on the other and not your patient but I'm sure overindulged ears. And with dried blood and a sleepy cat I think I'll go to bed and pray for dreams free of fire and floods. Not happy but finally ok...two months begin.