“And then there were 8”
I woke up several times last night. It could have been from nicotine withdrawal but I suspect the more likely culprit is the diving board and deluxe Doritos chip bag they supplied us for sleeping. The atmosphere here is steadily becoming more comfortable and it is refreshing to hear people being so open and honest with one another. It would seem the world outside these walls is more smoke and mirrors than I thought. I guess it’s not something you really take notice of when you are a inside of it. Sort of like a driving through fog with your headlights on, just try to get the fuck through it without running over something.
I think this disease that affects us is like a cancer of the mind. Except, it not only spreads to other parts of the body but to other people as well, and like cancer, to truly defeat it is impossible. The best one can hope for is it stays in remission until your clock runs out naturally. To make it to that point we must be ever vigilant in our watch over our bodies and mind and fully know ourselves better than normal people need to.
It seemed like it was an impossible task yesterday but today it feels like the light is beginning to wake up my soul from it’s long cold sleep. I lifted weights and shot around a floor hockey puck yesterday and I could feel a part of myself come rushing back to me. This is who I was. This person staring back at me from the mirror is older but he recognizes these feelings. He is alive and he is present here in this moment. He touches his hand to mine and against the glass and remembers.
It is starting to hurt. The memories of the past are hard to see through my newly opened eyes as if someone turned on the lights after a long deep sleep. I am also starting to miss my family and friends and of course, the little man [my cat]. I am lonely here in this place and it truly feels like a prison at times. The food is the same I hear. My intake was supposed to have 17 people in it but only 9 showed up and one left this morning. I feel tired all the time now and it would seem that the days here are emotionally draining enough to cause physical exhaustion. I’m not sure what I need right now but looking at my drawing of little man seems to help.
I hope I can find a way to forgive myself for what I’ve done to him. Those times where I went three or more days without cleaning his shitter because I was too fucked up to face even the simplest tasks life would as of me. When I would push him off of me or get angry at him for just doing cat things and trying to show me that he loves me. I mean in all reality he probably has long forgotten about it but I can’t let it go for some reason. He trusted me and relied on me and I let him down. I thought I was more than that. But I guess when you are burning alive you can’t really see past putting yourself out. One thing is for certain though, It is possible to keep bleeding long after your skin seals shut.