i am born over and over, struggling each time



fearful of, yet wanting the light with all my being. to 
feel so drawn yet so repelled at the same time by something 
is a terrible way to live.

so, denise. here you can pretend to be alone. here are only 
the echoes of your own words, for you let no one in. here 
you wander memories and get lost in the words of songs you've 
sung, trace your memory's fingertips over the long-gone skin of 
past lovers and hold tight the shadows of children you've borne.

you want to know what that's like? lately i'm in the grip of a most 
overwhelming sense of unreality. as if any second i will wake up 
and return to being the person i always was in Michigan. i watch myself 
work, watch myself type, watch myself clean my house and get so 
impatient. WAKE UP! i shout inside, but still i dream, still i feel asleep. 

there is no promise of a "love that will save" me in the future. i have 
closed myself off from that both physically and emotionally. i want 
what i had. it's as simple as that. i want all those wonderful moments 
with Bruce, with Bill, with Glenn, the only three men i've ever let anywhere 
close to seeing the real human being i am.

and not a one of them wants anything to do with me ever again.

so this time i am being born as a single entity. alone. and sometimes i
don't think i can do it. like when i was delivering Jason and i told 
Bruce and Dr. Yerian, "i'm done now, i don't want a baby. i'm going home. 
this is TOO HARD!" screaming the last words at the top of my 
lungs while the baby takes over and pushes its way out of me 
without my consent. outside of myself, watching. and i would take 
my own hand if i could. would reach out and hold myself, comfort 
myself. but i'm so far away from myself, too far away to do anything 
to effectively help during the struggle.

one of these times the struggle will be too great and i will be lost. 
i see dead people all the time, it's common when you're a nurse. 
the spark goes out and there is just this shell that lies there, 
unable to do a single thing for itself, without feeling or sense or 
emotion. just a thing. and someday that will be me.

please, not yet. cause i'm going to wake up soon and i'm going to 
find myself in the middle of my life. maybe i'll be laughing or touching 
or holding someone, something and i will realize that even the bad 
was a part of me and something to cherish.

all i ever wanted was more than i had, but i never realized that all 
that i ever wanted was exactly what i had at the moment i had it. 

and isn't that one of the saddest things you've ever had to face 
in the middle of a long night?

denise

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