Sunday, July 25, 2010
To fail and to live long
"I wasn’t always a monster, I was a saint.
Now, so broken, so,
Addicted to bad ideas & to the blood that runs
from my eyes and my hands and my throat
Though I have grown older & graver,
the great heart of the world remains ever young.
I wasn’t always a monster, I was a prince.
Now, so broken, so.
Because I can
'Cause no one can stop me
'Cause it makes up for things I lost
Because I'm addicted to bad ideas
and all the beauty in this world"
photo by: Me
I wasn't always a monster, but I was broken. And I wish someone had done something, tried to save me, but no one ever did until I was older and they were paid to do it. I'm not saying I wouldn't have fought off attempts, tried to break free, but at least I would have known I was worth saving. Now I'm too old for that, and there's nothing anyone can make me do. I wish that felt free, but it doesn't. It just feels scary. Because maybe all along I was crying out, even when my scars and cuts were hidden, even when I pretended I had eaten and covered everything up with lies and stories. There was still a part of me desperate for someone to see through it, to just know, without me having to say it.
Now my treatment team is gone. I didn't plan on continuing to see them, but it hurt to be let go of, feels like a slap in the face. 6 years together and she acts like this is nothing more than a business. She knew all my secrets, and I want to snatch them back. I feel alone and abandoned. There were times that they were all I had, the only people looking out for me and making sure I wasn't dead. I didn't want to end things like this.
I failed treatment. I didn't leave better, and I didn't leave dead. Instead I continue floating alone in limbo.