I Miss Feeling February 25, 2007

How can I stand here with you,

And not be moved by you?

I plunge into my memories only to find frames. Empty. Nothing. I remember superficial things like the crystalline raindrops on the window panes, the exact day and time, how he said “I missed you,” the intoxication, the alcohol, the exact words that you said: the wind running tangent to my eyes.

But the feeling is locked away, far from me. I can’t feel it again.

It seems that all I do is mourn for me. And that’s the scope of how I feel. I can’t feel anything anymore! I see the images in my head, but it stops there.

This malignancy is frustrating. I feel sub-human. I’m already suicidal, and I’m not kidding. Remember all those time when I muttered ‘kill me!’ or ‘I will die!’? Those are prayers.

And, mind you, I was talking to myself. The concept does not frighten me at all. In fact it’s almost like waiting at the bust stop. Fix your bag, stand up, smooth out the wrinkles before you get on that bus.

Didn’t I say eons ago that ‘I’m a prophet at a bus stop, waiting for my turn?’

Guess what? I think I see my ride coming.

Step one: get things in order.