[.l.o.s.t././.i.n././.t.r.a.n.s.l.a.t.i.o.n.]

I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve been gone too long . . . – Can’t Stop the World, Gavin Rossdale

And I can’t stop listening to that. Or Conjure One’s Endless Dream, or certain VNV Nation songs . . . They are on repeat.

And while I felt sick . . . sigh . . . the thought never felt better.

When I find no comfort here I’ll look again to find it in your arms. That is where I’ll dream a dream where I am you and you are me and that’s where I know love. – Endless Dream, Conjure One

(ephemeral) 

All day
Staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night
Hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
I’m feeling like I’m headed for a
Breakdown
I don’t know why
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know, right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know, right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me
Talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
I know
I know they’ve all been talking ‘bout me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong
With me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow
I’ve lost my mind
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know, right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired
I know right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be
I been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they’ll come to get me
Yeah, they’re taking me away
I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell
I know, right now you can’t tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see
A different side of me
I’m not crazy I’m just a little impaired
I know, right now you don’t care
But soon enough you’re gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Hey, how I used to be
How I used to be, yeah
Well I’m just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be

Matchbox 20 – Unwell

(ephemeral) 

Just in case you failed to notice, it didn’t happen, anyway. It’s not like it was ever really going to have happened in the first place, anyway . . . sigh

Yeah, I guess I should’ve said something a few months ago – like August or whatever – of last year when the finality of it all just imploded upon itself and it was crushed like . . . fitting? . . . so many little bits of white powder that were ready to be snorted and wished away.

Heh.

I think I found the gist of . . . No. Let’s not go there. It’s really not fair to anyone if I do.

Yeah, I’m going to end up having more messed up dreams where I end up waking up crying again, huh? Okay, it’s time to not think about this any more than this and just put it away for the time being.

(ephemeral) 

As random as the subject line is, well . . . that’s about how I’m feeling: rather random in my own life, like I don’t quite belong anywhere but that I’m not quite out-of-place, either. I’m drifiting somewhere in the middle. And drifting for me is dangerous. sigh

Or it can be.

Yes, I’ve grown up – and, hell, have I grown up! – since the last time I got near this feeling, much less the last time that I was in it. The last time I was in it, near it, what happened? Oh, geez . . . let me think. I think, no – I KNOW - that was when I had my suicidal relapse, the last relapse, the Seth relapse . . .  The one to end them all.

But I haven’t relapsed. Is my thinking fux0r3d? It’s getting there and I can feel it. And that’s what’s bothering me right now. I know how to stop that part, but is the rest . . . is the rest of this drifting phase or what have you such a bad thing?

Dr. Suess, in Oh, the Places You’ll Go! talks about a waiting place.

Sometimes I wonder if my ‘drifting’ is akin to a waiting place and I just haven’t really come to figure that yet. I’m still not sure. 

Dr. Suess . . . no this is where I am right now: The Waiting Place:

And when you’re in a Slump,
you’re not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
A place you could sprain both you elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right . . .
or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
How much can you lose? How much can you win?

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place . . .

. . . for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go,
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
Everyone is just waiting.

(ephemeral)

"I’m walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind -  on the border line of the edge and where I walk alone. Read between the lines -  what’s fucked up and everything’s alright. Check my vital signs to know I’m still alive and I walk alone." – Green Day, Boulevard of Broken Dreams

(ephemeral)