and I feel it like a sickness / how this love is killing me.
04/03/04|10:06 p.m.

[caution. trigger. tales from the cliff's edge.]

I hit that fear again (fear and sadness and anger and betrayal) where there doesn't seem to be a way out and there doesn't seem to be a point in staying. I felt it rushing through me, this love that I can't move past - no matter how hard 1/2 of me is trying, (or all of me is trying half the time...I'm not so sure) this crazy love that builds shrines, that makes me mold my character simply to look and be and know more of what They are. I looked at the photographs on the wall and said, "The girls in those photos are dead," and when my head objected with a bit of logic, added, "Or want to be." I thought, I'm no good here, completely incapacitated by my attachment to them, a fact that's come to the surface with this impending (possible) visit, that's come to the surface and is still steadily rising, primed to hit me in the face. Knock me down. I thought I'm no good like this, and it hurts too much, and I wish it were me, but I can't even wish for death when I know the pain I'd leave behind. I can't even back out peacefully now, and so despite everything about my life I've loved, I can only wish I'd never been born. That's the only way I could not be here without hurting anyone. I wanted to call the doctor and say, I give up. I really, truly quit this time, but I didn't want to blubber into the phone. I wanted a "voluntary coma" - some way for me to be alive and not be here, simultaneously... I thought of alcohol - no worries as we have none - and actually worried how it would interact with my meds. Ludicrous. How can I want to die and still be scared of having a heart attack? How can I think I'm through, come up with a way to hurt myself, and then think - but no, there could still be marks in two weeks? So...I'm still planning to go? Even though I'm fishing around for a way to be done here? I cried and slept past dusk and into night.

It takes the edge off, almost every time. To sleep when things seem unbearable. When grief and loss and the road ahead of me (drenched in fog so I can't see it) seem unbearable. The doctor can cure me of an eating disorder and depression and phobias and all the related rigomorall, I'll trust him that far... But he can't take this away from me, this desperate love that holds fast to a disintegrating world. And I know he says that part of me isn't sickness, but I don't know how to believe him. I'm an orphan and a widow in this mess. Noble for her loyal love but with no bearable future in sight. I still want to be alive, only I'm unsure of my life. And now, I want that, too, I do...but certainly, it's not meant to stay this way? Sick with the longing as I am? And how can it change without destroying me? I don't want to let it go; I can't let it go...even when I try, I can't, and without it, who would I be? There has to be a way through where I don't lose it, and still, am not consumed.

And I don't think even the doctor knows that route.

~me

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