Still, I Taste The Ocean
Previous - this entry written on February 15, 2004 at 9:00 pm - Next


*sighs softly, curling around on herself, arms crossed tight, shivering slightly*

"If you're still interested in being pounced, you should get over here."

Timing. It's all about timing. Mine, mostly - it's abysmal. I've wanted to get laid for days and haven't felt up to it except for times when Ryan hasn't. I can't push my mind there. For that matter, I can't seem to push my mind anywhere. It's going off on its own, shattering just a bit more with every moment.

I woke up after a long middle-of-the-day nap not all that long ago. No one else in the room. Everything tidied. Cleaned. It took me around 15 minutes to convince myself that I wasn't dead. I still feel disconnected, as if I'm looking at the rest of the world through a pane of glass. I can see them. Hear bits and pieces. I can pound on the glass and they see me pounding, they just don't see the glass. They see me miming what I feel, where I am, and they don't see the glass.

I can't break it, and they won't break it... or can't.

I still have a lot of crap in my lungs that I'm trying to get out. I've been taking NyQuil, antihistamines, alieve, and my anti-seizure meds. Amatryptaline, occasionally. Celexa. The cold is still stuffing my nose and hurting my throat and making each breath feel uncomfortably close to a cough.

I don't really know where this entry is going. It's just me, trying to pour out enough of what I'm feeling on here that I can live with what's left. I don't have any way to express this. I just want to sleep.

How hard is it to understand that I Just Want To Sleep? I can't concentrate on play, I can barely keep my mind here long enough to remember that I'm writing, everything is a hectic tangle that fades into, almost into, please let it fade into oblivion...

...gods. This is one of the few nights when I'm VERY glad that I don't have access to hard drugs, heroin, morpheine. I'd be flying high tonight.

That's the sad part. I'm glad I don't... and wish I did. I would get down on my knees and beg for anything that could make me believe I was OK.

Hallucinations. Full-body aches. Cramps. Sore throat. Difficulty breathing. My eyes keep going out of focus. My hands keep twitching.

I just want to sleep.

*sighs*

If I'm back online soon... yay. It'll mean I've gotten out of this funk and so on. If I'm not back online, I'm sleeping. Either way... talk to me here, or not at all. My voice is still raspy and if I AM sleeping, don't wake me. Please, don't wake me.

The thundering waves are calling me home
Home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home
Home to you
On a dark new year's night
On the west coast of Clare
I heard your voice singing
Your eyes danced the song
Your hands played the tune
T'was a vision before me.
We left the music behind and the dance carried on
As we stole away to the seashore
We smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair
And with sadness you paused.
Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go
My world was not yours, your eyes told me so
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time
And I wondered why.

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea

A vision came o'er me
Of thundering hooves and beating wings

In clouds above.
As you turned to go I heard you call my name,
You were like a bird in a cage
Spreading its wings to fly
"The old ways are lost," you sang as you flew
And I wondered why.
The thundering waves are calling me home
Home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home
Home to you


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