you can never go home again

 

                                       

i still to this day will find myself saying, "i want to go 
home now," even while lying in my own bed in my own 
apartment. sometimes i know what that means, or i 
think i know. the funny thing about aging is that one 
day you wake up and realize that while your past is behind 
you, the future ahead of you becomes smaller and smaller. 
it changes from something the size of an ocean when you're 
17 to a half-moon-shaped thing when you're in your 40's, 
to a sliver of moon when you're in your 60's and 70's. time 
eats away at the future and i wonder if it's tasty? does time 
stop once in a while and say to itself, "this is so good, i never 
get tired of it"? the shrinking of the potential future means, 
in some ways, the shrinking of hope. or maybe that's just me.


i feel oddly homeless tonight. and i'm mad at myself because 
i can't sleep. i took Melatonin but it didn't do anything.
except, and i don't really have the words to explain this, 
i was lying in bed earlier watching television, getting sleepy 
but not really, when i had the oddest thought or vision...a 
face appeared in my head, but it was like in the middle between 
two things, two periods of times, i think. and when the face 
appeared, i had a pain in my throat that went into my head and 
then sort of "popped" there, between these two times. just before 
it popped, it seemed like i understood something or knew 
something and thought, "ah, that's it then." as if i'd seen the 
future in some way. then it popped, whatever it was, and the 
pain was gone and the face was gone and the thought was gone 
as well. for a little while, i couldn't even remember what i'd been 
thinking about, but then it came back to me.


yes, i know. i'm very weird. i'd like to understand what it meant 
because it seems important in some way. it feels like something 
good. maybe i just had a vessel burst in my head and should be 
worried, but i'm not. 


Saturday was a day of beauty here. Deborah treated me to a 
pedicure (my first one ever.) and a manicure with fake nails. 
i have French tips and they're not much longer than i've been 
able to grow them out myself in the last year. my toenails are 
painted a shocking red with sparkly rhinestone diamonds on the 
big toes. it's bizarre to look at my hands and feet and know they're 
attached to me. i've never spent much time on my appearance, 
i don't think i'm vain. i usually avoid looking in mirrors.


i'm too something lately.
 

denise

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