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Never made it as a wise man

There's a song stuck in my head this morning.

I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing

It won't stop playing, over and over.

Tired of living like a blind man

I don't have the mp3 of it any more, can't play it on the laptop, hear it through my ears, it's only in the dusty corners of my mind that it keeps echoing.

I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling

It's a song I've... appreciated... since I first heard it years ago.

This is how you remind me

When it's playing on the radio, or off a CD, or pounding through the speakers of my computer, more often than not I end up singing along.

This is how you remind me
Of what I really am

The person I'm singing it to changes. It's a harsh song, beautiful but full of ache and regret and longing for the impossible.

This is how you remind me
Of what I really am

I'm sure that there are a few people out there who have heard this song, whispered the words, sang the chorus, and thought of me.

It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken
For handing you a heart worth breaking
I've been wrong, i've been down,
Been to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"

It's been a long, sleepless night. I'm still not drowsy, still can't close my eyes and drift off. The barriers... they may be for the best but right now it doesn't feel that way. Instead it feels as if refusing to dream is what's keeping me from sleeping. I've been feeling incomplete lately; much of it is the heat, I never deal well with it and it makes even the slightest depression turn into near-catastrophy. Part of it is the lack of conversation and play with my pets, since yes, I really don't feel happy without them thoroughly in my life. Part of it...


It's not like you didn't know that
I said I love you and I swear I still do
And it must have been so bad
Cause living with me must have damn near killed you
And this is how you remind me
Of what I really am

Part if it is a cycle I think we'll never really escape, one that started gods only know how many lifetimes ago and that this is only the merest fraction of. We've done this dance before, no doubt we'll do it again, both of us stubborn and strange and somehow linked in a way that I don't entirely understand.

I'm dropping what few shieldings I could bring up this quickly; better to dream the days away than sit here empty. Soon Caleb and I will be heading back to Portland, visiting old friends and familiar places, and I've no doubt that'll take part of the stress away. The heat can't last forever, and eventually there will be more pills, blue and white and tan, to soften the edges of reality again. I've spent a lot of years missing people, and I'll spend a lot more, I suspect. This is just one more day. I know I can make it through. *shrug*

This is how you remind me
Of what I really am


I'm at the point where my lack of sleep has gone past frustration and discomfort into that quiet, peaceful place. My mind is calm, surprisingly so.

Still, I'll be glad when the day is over.

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