People play at being scarred: they talk of betrayals and disappointments; wounds that are figments of the imagination at best; a lie believed, a trust broken; minor abandonments that have no consequence.
all my scars are literal: stab wounds and burns, cut fingers and a plunged indentation in the cheek, a forearm etched with an indecipherable i-ching.
I don’t need to talk, I can show.

again the discussion of drugs: this time i might be bipolar and when presented with the evidence, he draws back. perhaps you are just uni-polar.
how about the madness that’s about me? how about the madness i have seen? how about the suffering i have incurred and have put on those that love me? are you telling me all that isn’t enough to feel as i do, to be racked as i am?
there is progress to be made, but it will be made on my terms, as i am. there is nothing wrong with me, there are no wild pendulum swings. i am human, i am frail, but i carry within me a monster who is also my strength. i have a cold trigger, i can become detached at will. it is a survival mechanism.
let’s talk about that. let’s talk about what the fuck happened to me that i felt the need to survive.
hopped up on prozac or coke: it’s just another drug. i am full of addictions, but chemicals ain’t one of them.

and the year has come to an end. all this trial and tribulation, all this dis-ease, all this pain and madness, all this alienation and sorrow.
where does it comes from?
i weep thinking of you, your death, your life, the pain i’ve brought you, the harm you’ve inflicted on me, ‘you’ over and again, always different, this cavalcade of pointing, the infinite gesture, of reaching outside from within, of breaking the skin, breaking this veil, into some other place, where there is only you, only me, i and other, eternal, absolute and pure.

there are things you walk away from. a car accident, a pistol, drug use.
there are things you cut off. a tumor, an infected limb, a telephone line.
but there are things you cannot abandon. love, children, peace.

And of course, christmas morning, the boy stumbles about and the girl rips through the gifts starving and half mad.
What beauty they still possess. How they shine while I grow old and dull. My god, they are mine and they outshine everything I’ve ever done.

it can be difficult, you must, you must not turn away. you must turn to them, you must turn to the light.
you must learn, she says, to see how others see you. you must see the beauty others see in you.
and i try, i try, i spin and turn and fall and fail and scramble for purchase.
she holds me close. she holds me still. she holds me. she holds me.

When will there ever be peace in my heart?
When will I let go of despair, when will I find it unattractive?
You said once I was a pain junkie. I wonder if it’s a simple as that.
I am a dark soul. I think I’ve seen and done too much, and not enough of the right things.
Will you teach me how to embrace the light? Will you teach me not to be afraid of the dark?

it is difficult to let go of an addiction, particularly when it is sprung from self destruction, when the addiction is to self destruct, to self mutilate. a denial of happiness. i tell her in the dark, i need to tell you this, i need to tell you that you are real, the only ever real thing i have ever had.

i scramble in the dark, i make myself up. every instance, another me, another entanglement, something else i cannot sustain. i scramble my brains over a cold skillet, nothing cooks. nothing even simmers. i grow stale. i am lost, i make myself up, ten fold, twenty fold. the need to disappear, overwhelming. to not be, to erase myself, to obliterate. not out of malice, not to destroy, to create anew. blank slate, dig up even the foundation. there is no foundation, only dirt. it’s all been built upon dirt, mud, shaky ground. i cannot sustain, i scramble.
i have never been reached, i have yet to be touched by another person. i have yet to be moved. i am always looking for a way out. i am always looking to not be.

There is no reset button, there is no way to go back in time and undo the damage before it even began. I do not know what to do, and if I delve into it too deeply, I feel as if I might go mad. But I cannot. There are children, there are bills, there are frail and fragile human beings involved that I am afraid to reach out to. The only option is to disconnect. The only option is to stop.