In a mesh of blankets,

the blankets that only smell of

me,

I'm having a break down

I curl up

like a catepillar

in safety mode

In that moment, I beg to God

or whatever higher power there is

just sitting on the roof

I beg for the nothingness that sleeps around me to become

something

I beg for the blankets to morph into arms,

chest, a god damn

warm beating heart

I cry while my hand slips into me

and I touch myself

I beg that my body acutally means

something

I beg that my soul, my fucking essesence is

a part of

something

My hand that slips into me,

I beg that it's not mine

I beg that it's someone else's,

a part of

someone

I want to just be a part of someone

I just want someone to hold me

But there's nothing.

Nothing has become

eyerything.

I beg to God,

or whatever higher power

to give me a fucking sign

just to know that I mean

something to someone

My hand slips, my fingers twiddle

I convulse and my hips rock

as tears stain my face

in climax

Sometimes I don't want to sleep.

I'm afraid I'll wake up in the same miserable state. No changes. My same stupid self.

As I roll in my blankets, I find myself staring at the white ceiling with little paint bumps. I can hear rain and ice bits crash on the roof. It sounds like a low drum roll like God or someone is trying to knock on my world. It's 54 degrees in my bedroom while it snows and freezes outside. It's the most comforting atmosphere I know. It's the temperature that barely keeps the pipes from freezing. The coldness reminds me that I'm warm on the inside. It reminds me that I'm somewhat alive and still existing.

I move so slow.  It takes me forever to do things. Hours go by like minutes and out of nowhere it's 4AM and I haven't done a thing. It's like I'm slowly starting to freeze. All my warmth is slipping out.

So, I don't sleep. Because I feel like I have so much that I want to do. So much that I have to do. And there are so many people I want to talk to and see. Ever feel like you always have so much to do but not enough time to do everything? It's almost like you're trying to take on your Bucket List but feel like you're about to die at any minute so what's the bother?

But then I sleep all the time. I have these nightmares where my teeth are falling out one my one like they're strings in a sweater. I can feel them wiggle in my gums and then they roll around across my tounge like they're pieces of candy. Blood comes out of my mouth in an endless flow like I'm one of those decorative statue fountains in a demented garden. I guess it all means that I'm afraid of losing control. Is this supposed to mean that I'll lose myself?

I can't sleep.

I stay awake to think about everything.

I stay awake to do nothing.

I walk to Kwik Trip at 3:16 in the morning.

The sky had been dropping ice all day like falling stalactites in a cave. There is more ice than snow. Everything is hazy. Fog coats the background like a grey sheet. Street lamps are orange balls that glow. I feel like I'm in Silent Hill. The ghost town that's a seperate dimension from my life. No movement. No sound. And the mist curls around my hood and nestles in my hair like it wants some attachment.

I think about my countless walks in the woods at home. That moment when the trails become too familiar. That moment when it's impossible to get lost. It's sad.

I want to get lost.

Because one of the best feelings in this world is finding your way back.

Finding your way back to something.

Now, everything feels too familiar. Like the music of my world is played in dull tones. Repeated notes that don't match my steps.

And as I walk to Kwik Trip at 3:16 in the morning, I think about how I am the only person walking to Kwik Trip at 3:16 in the morning. But I think about you too. I think about how you said you were a night owl. Just like me.

I want you to walk with me. I know you would walk with me in this other dimension to Kwik Trip at 3:16 in the morning. We probably wouldn't say a word. Just swim in each other's presence.

We'd  get lost in each other.

And find a way out of Silent Hill. Find a way back to some place else.

At 3:16 in the morning.

A dear friend and I were talking about Numbness. Due to the bitter cold weather here in Minnesota, I can't seem to get away from numbness. We were talking about how a lot of people it seems don't understand what it's like to be numb. What it's like to not feel anything and just go about our days like we're robots or some cold zombies with blood dripping off our mouths. What it's like not to care about

anything.

Friends that I considered close before seem like distant memories, ones that I barely notice or think about anymore. I feel like my best friend is gone. I don't think she knows that she left me. that's weird to say but it's true. She left me. She left me. I don't have anything to say to her anymore. I feel like we're so different. She's different. I'm different. She doesn't share her secrets because she says she's ashamed of herself and doesn't want me to know her darker side. Yet, I'm supposed to share with her. I feel like I'm nothing to her. I feel like shit. I feel like I'm nothing. I don't talk to her anymore. There's no point.

She makes me feel numb.

I just want to tell her, "I'm not your best friend. You're not my best friend. Maybe at one time we were but not anymore. We haven't been for a long time and you're gone. Emotionally, you've been gone for a long time. And I feel nothing. I don't feel pain. I don't feel sadness. I feel nothing."

Numbness. It's strange. I don't feel like doing anything, saying anything. I don't sleep. I sleep all the time.

My dear friend that I was talking about earlier said that she used to cut. To feel something. To feel alive. To cut through the numbness and bleed out life. Just to know that she matters to the world and that she's here and exists.

I think it's amazing and extraoridnary because I know exactly what she's talking about even though I've never cut. But I know this numbness, this ice that coats me.

Sometimes, I'd rather be numb than depressed. There's a power in numbness.

You feel like nothing can touch you,

because nothing can.

It's almost been a month since my last post.

It's strange. It feels a lot longer than that and a lot shorter at the same time. When I have "spells" of depression I like to call them (like a fucking wizard is tapping you on the shoulder with his wand), time becomes blurry. Any sense of a schedule is gone. I don't sleep. I sleep too much ( 14 hours). The days blend together like water colors yet a picture is never made. It's all abstract.

I once wrote a paper for my Contemporary Literature class dealing with the concept of time. It centered around Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad. It won the Pulitzer Price last year and it's a fantastic book so I recommend it to anyone. Egan is a phenominal writer so I would also recommend her Emerald City also well which contains her short stories. Anyway, her structure in A Visit from the Goon Squad deals with a lot of flashbacks. Readers get pieces of characters from their pasts. Parts of the first storyline are revealed in these flashbacks as well. The progression of technology is a huge theme in the novel too. After finishing the book, my professor asked us to write a paper regarding our own concept of time and how we understand it.

I created a theory. We each have our own personal time zones. When two people are in the same place at the same time their time zones are in sync and the moment they seperate their time zones are not in sync. I mostly talked about my relationship with my best friend. I haven't seen her in almost a year. I once thought that nothing changed between us and that our relationship was fine. However, time made changes happen in her life even though I didn't "see" these changes. Our time zones were out of sync. With time, comes change, right?

If I find the paper, I'll write more about this later. I explained it better in the paper. My professor shared with the class the theories that he thought were unique and plain awesome (his words, not mine). Mine was one of them. I felt proud and somewhat frightened at the same time. Am I the only one who thinks like this?

I feel like I've been out of sync with everyone in my life for a while. Either that, or it's the same old disconnectedness. Time is but an illusion anyway, so I've read in a science article somewhere, at some time.

Take care everyone. See you in the new year.