a wolf angel is not a good angel

the sky is bruise-coloured; even the edges where the sun weeps through are old & yellowed, ugly half-healed bruises. somewhere just a few feet away, i saw something fall from the sky — an angel, broken & bloody, pushed out of heaven? all that’s left is her heart, a stone. look closely and you’ll see it, too.

just one of those days, one of those times: kicked around for no good reason, only you’ve not been, though there are welts anyhow. does it all make sense? not really. and that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

this must be it, right, this must be what they say is manic depression, rapid cycling, happy then sad? but it’s not; i’m not manic, just cycling into humanity & out again, back into the world of the dead & damned.

come on, baby, watch me cry. you know you want me like that, cold & forlorn. watch me bleed in the snow, the flakes knives tearing my skin, watch me shiver, wait long enough & i’ll do anything: please, can i go inside? i want you, i want you, do it to me. anything to leave the cold, my core temperature only slightly warmer than the ice now. a breathing ice sculpture, sexy, right?

as if i care.

it’s night now & the sky has darkened, pooled black, dried blood, enough to fill a vein or two. so i can reopen it, of course. isn’t that what they’re for, she asks in a voice spitting out rocks. in the fairy tale it was gold for one, frogs for the other. but this is no fairy tale, child, the wolves are real & in disguise — when you bite into the poisoned apple, you don’t sleep, you don’t even get to die. it’s harder and hurts more than you can imagine. the real fairy tales were grim, filled with death & blood, but sweetheart this is worse.

hear the screams echoing in the distance? that’s me, louder than anyone would bother to imagine, so loud it shatters everything but ice. i’m so broken i can’t stand up, but nothing i can do affects me anymore.

hurt me, baby. hurt me bad. kick me so i fly again.

The fact that I have ‘Make your own kind of music’ stuck in my head STILL. It was going away, and then they played it again on this week’s episode, too. Damn you, Lost.

We did bear it, of course we did, because you just do. I sometimes think you never know how much you can bear until you have to, until you are faced with it. You surprise yourself, amazed that confronted with the unbearable you just carry on, putting one foot in front of another, with a lingering sense of astonishment that you still know how.

-Tania Kindersley, “Don’t Ask Me Why”

Finally, my cat is lying down with me, and I don’t need to go elsewhere (or to the bathroom), I can just enjoy the fact that she is stretching out on my legs.

Of course, there are things I need to do. I am trying not to think about any of it. Which is really working out not at all well for me. I have this anxiety in the pit of my stomach, sitting there. I’m not sure what it’s about.

What did I blog about before I always wrote about how much I am unhappy? I need to find something new to write about.

While I was away last week, I was in a bad place. And, you know, I sort of regret having ever mentioned self-injury, because now when I think of it, I figure hey, why not post about it? Though maybe I don’t regret it so much, because in part I feel I would need to blog if I did it, and I do not want to admit to that, so it’s keeping me saner. Or not, because, you know, it *worked*, so instead I am fretful. Well, and in part it’s weird knowing that people who know me somewhat will know these things. And perhaps other people, people I don’t even know read this. I try not to think about that possibility, because it makes me neurotic.

I thought I was sleeping better, but I am not: when I tried to stand up recently, I almost fell over from exhaustion.

Does this count as coping? I cannot tell.

Well, that was a brief, shining moment of less-unhappy.

Instead, let me talk about other stuff.

This weekend will need to be furniture weekend. I want to get a nice couch and chair, because, yes, they’re expensive, but they will then last me my entire life, modulo reupholstering. Also, they’re comfortable, and I am always sitting and sleeping on them. Other things will wait. Except for a futon. Where do I get a futon? Should I get a pullout couch instead?

I need to pack. And throw stuff away. (Like, say, my intro chemistry stuff. Or my other chemistry stuff. Or half my linguistics stuff. But! But! Anyways, we will see.) And I cannot seem to face doing it. I probably have about 6 weeks. This includes getting furniture.

Which is why it will soon be Ikea time. For, most likely, the futon. And a plain table because I know exacly what I want my table to look like, so: art project! And maybe chairs to go with it. And the four zillion bookshelves I will need. Possibly I will check out Winners first. I could use a buffet.

You know, nevermind: thinking about all this stresses me out.

“these facts are all true to the best of our knowledge, however since i am surrounded by weirdoes, i take no personal responsibility”

(from The Muppet Show DVD)

I am, for the record, feeling better, or less actively bad. I’m still delaying on things I need to do, of course, but a lot of them aren’t crucial, not in the same way. And I am sleeping closer to 8 hours a night than to 4. I even napped today. I went to the library, took out some books I have been wanting to reread, books I own which are in storage, somewhere.

This weekend will be again nice, because it is another in the suddenly rare weekends I am at home. Though after Thanksgiving, I don’t have anywhere planned for weekends. (Well, I will admit that part of me has an urge to drive down to Albany and go to Target. But I probably won’t. Maybe on the way back on Thanksgiving: I have to drive right through.)

I am reading a lot again! This is another good thing. Not reading never means that I’m just busy in a good way. (Not reading apparently means sitting on the floor trying not to wake people with crying, actually. Being depressed really pushes me into a feedback loop where I hate myself more because I am so depressed, and I am more depressed etc.) But in any case, things are better. This is good.

I hope it lasts.

I went to the video store to pick something up for my sister — bribery works so well with me — and I noticed that The Muppet Show (season 1) is out on DVD. Muppets! Good muppets! With JOEL GREY guest starring. Oh I am so excited.

“I don’t see much sense in that,” said Rabbit.
“No,” said Pooh humbly, “there isn’t. But there was going to be when I began it. It’s just that something happened to it on the way.”

-A.A. Milne

• Any packing.
• Any art.
• Any list-making.
• Any of the phone calls I needed to make.
• Any of the errands I wanted to do.