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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Four Walls, Forever Happydots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Sacred Sindy
    ASL Info:    30 female in Portland, Or
    Elite Ratio:    6.36 - 151/128/34
    Words: 648
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 955
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3547



    Description:
       Nothing literary. I just want to write for sanity.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsFour Walls, Forever Happydots
    -------------------------------------------


    I'm just trying to do everything I can, in the context of these four walls, to make this day end as quickly as possible. Soon- more oxycodone and benadryl. I take them both since since I'm allergic to the oxy. I get hives. I've always been extrememly sensitive to prescription meds.

    If it were up to me and God and I made a deal I would down the whole bottle of oxy, but I've been here too many times to know that He doesn't EVER let me off easy and that in the end the consequences to my choices are so incredibly messy.

    I'm debating whether or not to drink the bottle of wine. I don't want to get physically ill on top of all that is going on. See... messy like I said. I've been eating. Mainly because it is a form of medicating as well. Not too depressed to eat, a part of me says, a very shallow, snarky and meniacal part of me. Well, I haven't over eaten, the defensive part of me argues back. Over eating would require more trips outside of my room. I just offended Terri, I don't want to create more opportunities to run into her and further cause offense. That's the important part of isolating- no one ELSE gets hurt. I've never been a fan of hurting others, just myself is fine enough.

    I have been hurting Matt however, no matter how hard I try not to. He gets the blunt of the bipolar. He gets the I really need a hug but I want to stab you in the eye moments. He gets the I love you but I insanely hate you all at once episodes. Bless his heart. And I think a part of me is actually legitmately angry at him. Although I can't quite pinpoint the reasons. There's no love in the way I've been treating him and maybe I don't love him, at least not in the way that he deserves. He deserves someone better. Someone who will ooze emotional cake batter all over his buttery good heart. Someone like- Terri.

    I always pictured them together and how great they would be. Honestly, if I die (God willing but I know God won't) that would be my dying wish. So here I offically say it, I would want Matt and Terri to start a life together. They'd be perfect in white suburbia together. Maybe one day they could go off and be missionaries in a foreign land because they are such good people like that. Okay, I'm tired of talking about this.

    Times like this I wish I had Salvador Dali and J. D. Salinger sitting next to me in this room. Dali would be so flatteringly painting me into one of his surreal dream like portraits and Salinger would be reading out loud to me one of his World War short stories. Id occassionally interrupt him pointing out who the phony was in the scene. Then after convincing Salinger to come, we'd all grab a cap at the Cafe under a Starry Night. I'll make faces at Dali from behind my mug, scrunching my eyes and then bulging them. His eyes always bulged more than mine so when he makes the face I would almost spill my drink from laughing so hard especially from seeing the foam stick to his thin curly moustache. And Salinger would just be so embarrassed and regreting that he come, the old recluse. But our bellies would be warm, our mouths filled with laughter and my heart wouldn't be so lonely anymore.

    Yep. There's my happy place. Happy indeed.

    I don't want to stop writing, and imagining because it's been so long and I feel I have lost so much...

    Of myself.




    Submitted on 2010-06-20 17:25:36     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I suppose Dali and Salinger are fair choices for eclectic friends, but you really need surrealism rooted in lunacy so I'd suggest Groucho Marx as a third wheel for your unicycle.

    What say ye, Miss Sindy?

    :)
    | Posted on 2010-06-21 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]
      Third paragraph: you meant 'I'm' instead of 'I' right?

    I like this. After recently going through a similar relationship with someone I can understand that bipolar-ness. Sometimes you hate them, sometimes you love them, and its hard because all you want to do is open up to them but you know they'll get scared just like you already are. You are afraid to love, and you are afraid to show them that you don't because you don't want to hurt them more than you already feel you have.

    You just want them to go away and leave you in your solidarity. Oh how often have I contemplated how to go without affecting anyone else. But it is messy, any way you decide it does get messy but maybe it's just supposed to be that way. So that we don't, the things that make us want to are also what stops us, forces us to keep pushing.

    Anyway the piece is really well written and obviously I can relate. I hope you feel better soon though and realize you are good enough. Even if this piece is fiction, there is some part of you that must be scared, find it, face it, and tell it that you are worth being loved and loving back.

    Keep smiling,
    Flora
    | Posted on 2010-06-20 00:00:00 | by blankscreen | [ Reply to This ]


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