the great purge

if i don't get a handle on my ocd, there will soon come a day that i come home to a house with nothing in it but my clothes and my bed.

~k

"where are you going?"

she asked.

a week ago, i was sure the answer was "the white house". it's evolved to: washington, dc, or some post-conflict country in need of government restructuring.

for the people who love me, i'm sorry for this evolution. fer reals. but for the hopeless adventurer in me (the one whose bucket list includes 'spending a year with no address'), i pray i end up in khartoum or nairobi, where maybe i can help a newly forming democracy get underway.

but the white house is still number one. it's just no longer the only egg in my basket.

~k

home sweet home

i wish what i wanted was in los angeles. this place is amazing, i love it here, and i haven't met the thing that beats walking out of lax. cuz no matter where i've been, it's not as beautiful as it is here.

~k

a melancholy memory lane

i had a fantabulous outing today with several old friends from high school. we spent the afternoon laughing, reminiscing, and having a grand walk down memory lane.

but now that i'm several hours this side of nostalgia-ville, i realized how much high school sucked, and how terrible i felt about myself, how uncomfortable i was in my own skin, and how tortured i felt by myself and everyone else.

yeah, i had some grand fun, but those were the worst four years of my life.

the end.

~k

vampire bugs

my blood must taste delicious, because the so il mosquitos are eating me alive!

~k

crashing

i was in a crash once. i've actually been in a shit-ton of crashes, but only one that matters. only one whose repercussions still haunt my every breath.

i was a wee teen. it was-good god-just shy of 20 years ago. i don't remember it happening, don't remember the hours following, don't remember much of the years that followed. but i remember enough.

i remember the agony. the pain. the suffering. the anger. the sadness. the loss. the blame. the anger. the fight. the three months in the hospital. the wheelchair. the knowing i would never be the same again. the anger.

for that moment, that one small moment in time, that one bad call, that one sliver of poor judgment, i will always suffer. always. it still hurts. when i think deeply about how much i still suffer (a pain i nearly never share because why even bother with a mass that can never understand), tears sting my eyes. i still hurt, nearly 20 years later.

i'm at home, one of my dearest friends from high school was in a crash two months ago. he lost an arm. i haven't seen him, but i spent this evening with his sister, who speaks of his good spirits, of his will, of his blase disengagement. things i liken to denial. he too will suffer as i have and do. he just doesn't know how. not yet anyway.

i am crying for him right now. and for me. there are some things lost that can never be recovered. some things lost that can never be made right. some things lost that no one else will ever understand. and some things lost no one will even try to understand because they don't see my cane or him without an arm.

but just because you don't see my cane doesn't mean i feel no pain.

~k

family

i am in the midwest, there is no summer to speak of, and i'm with my family. i cannot escape. someone is _always_ around, there is entirely too much screaming, yelling, crying, noise, and attention grabbing.

i am pretty sure i'm going to need anti-anxiety medication to survive the week. and i'm contemplating life as a hermit when i return to the music box steps.

~k