one monday in may in 20/20

it’s back.
everything has piled up, all at once.
again.

it took me 5 years to get out last time. and when i finally (partially) emerged, i was fundamentally changed at the molecular level.
i’ve since measured my life as “before” and “after”.
i am ever mindful of how hard-won every secondminutehourdayweekmonthyear has been.
all those grim, teeth-grinding moments i’ve fashioned into what’s left of my life.
such an unsatisfying and hollow victory.
how fragile it truly is.

i’ve been so careful to step gingerly on this badly cracked load bearing floor.
so many jaggedly stitched pieces make up my ill fitting skin.
i continue to search my face in the mirror.
have you seen her? where is she? where did she go?

i hear myself (repeatedly) say:
“i’m not sure i can handle anything like that again.”
while knowing in my bones of its absolute inevitability, of its monstrous velocity, of its ability to annihilate the remainder of me. it’s staring me in the face even when my eyes are closed.

how much longer?
how much longer?
how much longer?
the ticking clock on my kitchen wall is unrelenting and oblivious to ravages and havoc.
it all adds up to nothing.

i don’t want what i have. i never have.
that’s the root of it.
i douse these roots with chemicals every morning and every night. yet they continue to burst forth. all these shoots and tendrils, sharp prickles, hidden thorns, noxious blooms. poisonous tangled vines keep bearing rotten fruit season after season after season.
plow it under.
salt the earth.

Last updated May 11, 2020