the following writing is an attempt at ‘stream of consciousness’ writing in which the writer simply tries to let thoughts flow. nothing x-rated, but it is hard to make things like this available to the public, very hard to admit that my brain isn’t normal, isn’t anywhere near normal and that my life can be a real challenge.
So many images floating through my mind. So many past events, past mistakes. I replay them all over and over. They sneak into every thought, every word, every breath. I pick up a comic book for that simple escape I used to enjoy so much and it seems each word is there just to taunt me. An image of a cup of coffee. Here it comes, I was just 16 and I worked at an all-night coffee shop. One time a paramedic came in for a cup of coffee and he looked like he had been through the wringer. I asked him how was business… What a terrible thing to say, how can I be so horrible? I walk with my head held low, so much shame. There was a young woman when I was younger. She was kind to me. She was in some of my high school classes, we worked together on Shakespeare and even had after school jobs in the same places. She would smile and I knew no joy in my life. Every time she saw me she would smile. What is she smiling at? What is so funny? Why do people smile? The dialogue in my head never stopped. Such depression, such severe depression. I hated myself but just for my mom I wouldn’t kill myself. I remember one of my first dates. She was so beautiful, we had what I thought was the perfect night and at the end of it she kissed me like I had never been kissed before. But for some reason she never wanted a second date. I knew her brother and her neighbor and her friends and all of them got together in the darkest summer of my life to pull a prank on me that would make me hate myself even more. I felt so unloved, so unlovable. Everyone but my mom, who cared so much. Cared so much but now she’s gone. Six years now and still I think for brief moments that I could just pick up the phone and call her. Then there was the other one, the girl I was in classes with. I wonder if she liked me. I liked her, she was beautiful, beautiful beyond description, million dollar model beautiful and she was always nice to me. I barely knew her but a couple of times we talked–really talked, and she was kind and seemed to care and seemed to want to help me get help. But I ran as far from any joy or peace I could run, all the way to the coast and still she was inside my head, my voices, my thoughts, replaying over and over all the things I ever said to her. I made her into some kind of statue, some fake goddess that never could live up to the reality. A couple of years ago I heard she got married shortly after. Shortly after I tried to write to her and she told me to take a hike. The guy she married beat her pretty badly but still it was her decision to make. How could I love someone I didn’t know. So many people ask if I’m married yet–how could I be married when I can’t even hold down a full-time job, how could I wed someone when I can’t fall asleep without pills and even then I wake up every two hours sometimes from a nightmare. It’s all too crazy, it’s all too beautiful.