Hot Fear
It’s another cigarettes and Diamonds & Rust in the backyard kind of night. Mosquitos, thinking about what I’d like to do and why I can’t do it. The short term desires preclude the long term. The liquor store is closed.
At the end of the day I don’t actually want the things I am attracted to. I don’t want to get loaded, I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t want whatever undesirable variety of sex would come to me in this state. Why I want these things is not so hard to analyze, and knowing has no effect.
My exam is in two weeks. The practice tests look like a vision of the future, and I’m living in it. And it’s not enough. When I am close to perfect I am unsatisfied. Why not perfect? If I am good looking I must be flawless, if I am 97th percentile I must be 99th. It can always be better, and the closer I am the more I feel it. In my defense, this is in line with the style of my family. It’s what I know.
I have barely left bed these past two days because my neck is too weak to support my head. There is no drink or drug I allow myself that makes a difference. I thought that change would cure my body but I am at a new physical low, looking up at that far off circle of light. You take for granted the simplest things until they’re compromised. I do not know how to win this one and it scares me.
I repeat the same pattern and am miserable for it. People must smell it on me. Please love me, I’m calling out for it. Of course it doesn’t work. I listened to Famous Blue Raincoat in my hot dark room and felt like crying, but it didn’t come. Why can’t I think of God? He used to feel so close. He used to be in every little thing I could see.