Would That I Might

It has been a very long day, but it was productive.  We saw the lawyer and got quite a bit of insight about things, as well as some reassurance about what to do next and what we can expect.  Some of what we learned complicates matters, but, overall, it seems largely positive.  It is still complicated and fraught, but at least we know what we are dealing with now, and how to proceed from here.

Underneath Each Other Form Traced far down to the place beneath where it is rooted, the gnarled bulb is not separate, is not itself an entity alone, is a part, connected, tangled up and calling out again to other ancient things that have been buried just as deep where none have noticed the way they weave into one, the way it is all emanations, deep down, where none can see.

Today was a quiet day, but tomorrow is going to be quite busy.  We have a number of appointments, including talking with the lawyer and visiting the nursing home again.  It will probably be good to keep busy, but I know it will not be an easy day, either, with a lot to process.  I hope we will have a better idea of what steps we need to take next, and what to expect going forward after talking to the lawyer.  Then, I think we might be able to make some plans and perhaps, even, get back to Florida, if only for a bit.

It Can Be Done Any Time at All but will be resisted until there is another who waits, until their is a necessity, a need not to miss the deadline. It would be best  if the want were enough, if no other consideration mattered, but it is not that way, not now, not in this.  In other ways, other arenas: it is so easy.  Not with everything, though.

Melissa was very upset today, and I wound up agitating her a bunch, and it was not good, but I think I was able to make up for it a bit, and I am working on doing better.  I did a bunch of cleaning and vacuuming and took care of a few other things to try and help, and it might have made a bit of a difference.  In truth, I am not certain if a certain amount of this is just natural.  I mean, she is dealing with a profound loss and it is not as if I can really change that, so I am sure a certain amount of this could just be a typo of venting.  Still, I also recognize that I am not always the most aware person, and I have certain difficulties and limitations that might be challenging for her to accept right at this moment.  I think that a great deal of this is also the circumstances of being stuck in this house without a car, both in terms of my being frustrated at not getting out during the day, and her own emotions about this house itself.

High School Ropes Course I fell and hung their and could not climb back, could not lift myself again, so, they laughed at me and made it my fault, did not care at all if I was harmed, had not considered that I was disabled, my coordination and balance clinically unfit to the task, no: it was not a concern to them.  And when I failed I deserved to fail, deserved to be shamed, to feel lessened by mockery. It was all the way of things. It was how it was meant to go.

Today was a difficult day.  We were here at Ann's house for the most part, making phone calls and doing various things in regards to Ann's affairs.  Melissa spent a long time this afternoon writing personal notes to various nurses and social workers from the nursing home who we want to thank for the care they gave Ann.  It was difficult, and she burst into tears several times during the process.  I wish that I could do more to make this easier for her, but I know that is likely impossible, that this has to hurt.   She lost her mother.  It is not something that can be made better.

The Harm Is Done and this is the world in which it exists, is always that, now. The choice was made and it cannot change, even if more is done, if you work towards change, even if you can fix this, can make it better, even then, it is not undone. It is still the truth  of what was done,  of what you chose. That is the world you made. Do not think it can be forgotten. Still, I do hope things will heal.

Tomorrow, I hope that Melissa and I will be able to get more done.  We have a message in to the lawyer, and hope to figure out some of the specific steps we need to take.  Melissa has a lot that she is expected to handle and it isn't straightforward what is to be done.  I am hoping we can get things started and figure out what needs to be done, and maybe get ourselves home for a bit.  I know we aren't going to be able to handle it all right now, and neither of us is all that comfortable in this house.

Taking Action The hand has signaled to the sky though the stars are too far, will not know, not soon, at least, not in time.  But still, the hand rose up to them, a message into the dark, thrown into the universe. Would it matter? Could it? It was so small, was only a hand, and the universe: what is a hand to the universe?  It was done. It was not important if it would matter to the universe.  It matters to the hand.

Melissa is having a lot of difficulty getting through things right now.  She keeps telling me how lost she feels, not knowing what to do next, wondering what would be best.  I understand the feeling, that it isn't just about how to proceed, but the deeper issue of living on, now.  Her mother was not perfect, and in many ways the relationship was difficult, but I know that there was a lot of love between Melissa and her mother,even if it was not always well expressed.  I know, also, that Melissa feels guilty over the fact that Ann wound up in the nursing home, though it was not her fault at all, and we tried, before things progressed, to intercede and make preparations, but were unsuccessful.  I am trying to help as best I can, trying to be here for her and offer assistance and support.  Honestly, I wish I were better at it, but I am working on it.

Aftermath It can't be made right and it cannot be alright  that it is this way and I cannot accept it, cannot move on while it is still the truth, is still the way things are, I cannot be alright and you caused this, it is not good at all and is worse each day and it was a choice, it is what you chose. Tell me what you will do, tell me you will make it better, will make it so it is not this way, so it is as it was, once, before you chose  this destruction. I am not well. It is worse each day.

Melissa and I were able to borrow her aunt's car for the day and ran a bunch of errands that would have been difficult otherwise.  We had to drive out to the funeral home again, in order to get copies of Ann's death certificate, and it is about forty minutes from Columbus.  We also did a bunch of grocery shopping for the house, and picked up a few thank you gifts for various people.  It was a productive day, I think. I am not certain what we will be able to accomplish over the weekend, but I think we are in good shape to handle things come Monday.

She Tells Us She Will Not Go She will stay away.  It is expensive, she says: to go would cost money. She wants to see him,  but the money it will cost is money she can save and he can have that one day, if she does not go. If she does not go to him. She thinks that is better, she says, that the money will be better than if she goes to him. That is what she thinks, or what she has said  is what she thinks. How sad, if it is so or if it is only an excuse. How sad.  She is his mother.

We left the hotel today and are back at Ann's house to begin the process of cleaning things up and getting ready to sell the place, as well as determining all the other things we need to do.  I think we are going to be driving out to the funeral home again at some point tomorrow to pick up the death certificates, and we sent a message to the lawyer we have been working with to discuss our next steps.  There is a lot that is still in the air, and Melissa has been feeling overwhelmed and uncertain about what to do now, not only in the simple sense of the right steps we need to take, but also in terms of moving forward now.  I am trying to be here, to offer support and help her get through it all.  She has been here for me with Dad dying and it meant a great deal, I only hope I can offer her similar support now.

Your Home It is not the same to be here now, though nothing here is any different, nothing is moved and no one has come: it is the same. You were not here even before this, before you died. You had not been here, but still, I feel it, there is a difference in this place, a certainty that you will not return. It is different now, is not the same at all. I do not like it very much, it has too much finality.

 Today was the first day where we didn't have a great deal of stuff to do.  The funeral is over.  We saw my mother and brother off, and tomorrow we will leave the hotel and go to stay at Ann's house so we can begin dealing with other matters.  We have to clean things up and get ready to sell the house, as well as talking with the lawyer to make certain things are properly handled.  Things feel heavy and difficult and worrying, but we are doing the best we can, dealing with things as they come.

We Are Doing As Best We Can are dealing with what is that cannot be otherwise. The things that are right are not enough, and what is wrong cannot be made better. We must do these things, must take care of what is that needs to be dealt with. Maybe there is good to come. It may be there will be something, but if not, you know, too, it is best to do these things now, to get through them. It will must be done, even if not now, it must be.  Waiting only takes longer.

The funeral went well.  It was, again, a bit fraught, with both Perry and his daughter saying inappropriate things to me, but it was not anything that went beyond that and I do not think it was noticed by most anyone else, as I did keep my calm.  The service itself was very nice and she was laid to rest in a way that I believe would have made her happy, and that brought some measure of peace to Melissa and others in her family.  I am still upset, of course, about much of what I experienced, but it is a blessing that it did not disrupt or damage the occasion.

I, Too, Wish We Had Done More Wish it could have been better. I feel that as well, feel the pain  of knowing the way it was was not right, was not what she wanted. She deserved so much more and it could have been better. It was not your fault, you know it was not you or me who chose this, who caused this, who made it a certainty. It does not make it better, I know, but it is the truth. I wish it helped more, but it is what we can remember. I saw all you did and gave. That it was not enough did not result from your own failing. You were there, as was I, remember what happened. You did so much, loved her in deed, not in empty words.  You did what was possible, what could be done, what was allowed to happen. You deserve no guilt, though that is not how these things work.

Tonight we went to the funeral home to sit with Ann, welcoming friends and family to visit.  It was mostly fine, but only mostly so.  Perry and his daughter were both in attendance and did things to make it quite uncomfortable.  For one thing, Perry went into a religious diatribe that was largely on the theme that anyone who does not believe in Jesus is a terrible person bound for damnation and eternal torture.  This is not the first time Perry has made comments that demean me as a Jew, sometimes with rather direct anti-Semitic comments to or about me.  His daughter goaded me about my hair, which is just juvenile, and insulted my brother for wearing a mask (many of us were doing the same).  Towards the end of the evening, Perry took Melissa aside to talk with her and started making demands about wanting Ann's car.  It was incredibly unpleasant and I stepped in when I saw Melissa getting upset.   I had not been confrontational all night, but when he was attacking Melissa, it was too

I Do Not Wish to Be Here Long but I will stay as long as needed because what is to be done must be. I will not leave it. It will be done.  Then I will feel freed to go, and I will not remain.  I will stay, though I am not comforted by this place, though it holds threats at my throat, I do as promised.  I will remain until these things are done, then, to this place I will become less than a shadow in my absence.

Today, Melissa and I spent a bunch of time with my family.  This is the first time they've come to Columbus, and the first chance that we have has for them to meet any of Melissa's family.  Of course, it is very upsetting that they will never meet Ann, but we did have brunch with Melissa's aunt, Mary, this morning and I an glad we were able to do that before the funeral or the visitation.  Tomorrow, we will be at the funeral home and they will meet numerous people from Melissa's life here, I am certain, but the focus is going to be on Ann, on remembering her life and celebrating it as best we can.  I am glad they are here, but I wish that they had met her in life.

Fairness He claims it was fair that he got to be there, to live in that place while I was exiled, claimed it was earned, was proper and right, but I know better, was told better by one who chose, who made it clear he did not earn it, that it was a boon he had been granted. He will not listen to me, will not hear the truth. He is certain I am the one who was given too much. He earned everything and deserves all I have too.

I am writing this in the morning, as I seem to have forgotten to do my work last night.  It was a crazy day, and with the stress of this week I am not surprised.  In truth, it is not the first night this week where it slipped my mind, and at least once before I went to bed then woke and remembered my undone work.  Of course, I set it right by dragging myself from bed and doing the writing then, but I didn't think about it at all, this time, until I woke this morning.  I am here, though, now, and that is what matters most, not that I slipped up, but that I am not letting it derail me.

What Can Be Done? It is too late to make it right or even better: it is done, has already been, and always that will be what happened, but to do nothing would be no good, not when there is such fault, when it is clear harm was done, but nothing can be made right and to do anything that does not address the inflicted harm would be an insult, as would doing nothing. Something must be done but there is nothing that can be, nothing that means anything. The act is only to address the guilt, to feel better about what was done: it will not heal the wound, those who were harmed will not be granted relief or made to belive it is any better.

Today marks seven years since my Dad died.  It feels like it just happened, and also feels so long ago.  The pain of missing him is always with me, but it isn't always what I notice any longer, and that itself hurts.  It doesn't feel like it should be okay that he is gone.  I don't know what else to say about it.  I hurt and miss him and know it can never be right again, but I am still here, and I know he would be glad for that, would want me to move on in life, to be happy, and to honor that is to honor him as well.  I can't reconcile any of it, but I suppose that is the nature of dealing with something as absurd as the death of a parent.

That Man He caused harm, even before the abandonment he had harmed her, was not a good partner, was not a kind man. He did not provide at all but took and demanded and made her smaller, lesser.  He took from her, from who she was, but now, he should be treated as her loving spouse, as if he was ever one, ad if anyone who knew them and cared for her at all would even pretend that is the truth.

There is a great deal of drama right now around Melissa and her Mother's second husband's family, in particular his daughter Robin.  Melissa is the one in charge of the funeral, and had been the primary caretaker for Ann over the past several years.  Indeed, when Ann moved to a nursing home, Perry refused to even stay in Columbus and moved off to live with his daughter out of town.  He barely ever saw Ann once he left.  Ann was afraid of Perry by the end, and said things that expressed a sense he was abusive, but I cannot say how much of that is legitimate and how much was dementia, but I know that there were ways in which Perry was controlling and manipulative, and it harmed in Ann a great deal, from my perspective.  At the same time, Robin, who Ann explicitly disliked, is intent on making every decision she wants to make, and it is very upsetting for Melissa, who is already in a lot of pain over losing her Mother.  I think it will be alright, as decisions are already made, bu

It Will Be Said Again that things cannot be set right, and because they cannot be, because it is this way and can be no other  it must be accepted. It is not possible to have a different choice because it happened and this is how things are, and it does not matter that how things are is not good, can never be acceptable, no.  It is how things are so take it and accept it anyway. That will be said again, and I am most afraid that one day I will say alright and accept this. I do not want to be that person: they are worse than dead or doomed.

Melissa and I spent much of today making the arrangements for Ann's funeral.  It went well, for the most part, but it is always difficult to do such things, and there were a few requests that were upsetting.  Ann remarried later in life, when Melissa was fully grown, and the daughter of her husband(who Ann told us she disliked and explicit8ly never considered a daughter) wants certain things that are upsetting to Melissa.  I was able to step in and express some of the concerns, but I know there are a few things that couldn't be helped and it bothers me a great deal that Melissa won't be able to see her Mother laid to rest without these elements.  The truth is, Perry, Ann's husband is a controlling jersey, to the point that one might call him an abuser, and it is clear that he forced Ann into the situation that made her last few years so distressing and uncomfortable.  A long while back, before her health condition had degenerated, Melissa and I wanted to make a plan for

Etiquette A man threw his hat on the bar, the brim up, the center an open maw lying there gaping upwards. It is only a hate, but it seems improper, maybe even rude.  I don't want to see it, the dark opening that waits there, the place his head should go, the void, the absent space. It seems wrong to me, but I wonder why that is or if others would think so too. I do not recall being told  it was inappropriate to throw a hat down in this way.  It is not a rule I remember being taught. Perhaps it is grotesque enough no one thought it needed to be said, or maybe it is just me.

I am in Ohio, at last.  It feels like a lot longer than just a day or so, but Melissa only left on Sunday evening, and it is only Tuesday.  Still, I am haunted that I did not make it in time to be there with Anne before she passed.  It is only a day or two, but the difference between having made it not is immense.

I Remembered though it was late, was after I had fallen into slumber.  Hours of dreaming, but not pleasant dreams, not the dreams of one who is ready to rest. A part of me recalled what had been left undone. I was exhausted, but not so much I could excuse such a failing.

Melissa spent all last night at the nursing home after she arrived in Ohio and called me this morning to let me know that Anne was gone.  At the time, I was still working on getting my flight changed so I could get there sooner.  The fact that I didn't make it up with Melissa last night is incredibly upsetting and there really wasn't an excuse for it, as Melissa already had a second ticket purchased and reserved, it only had to be transferred into my name, but the Southwest refused to do that.  The only explanation offered was that it is policy, which is not much of an answer under the circumstances.  Anyway, I was able to get a plane for tomorrow, at least, so I am going to have to be up on the early side to get myself packed and ready.  I am glad I will be able to help Melissa through setting up the funeral arrangements and various other parts of this process.  For now, I am going to call it a night and turn in so I can be ready for my trip.

Things Could Not Be Made Right There is not a way you could have done a thing to make it better, not at the time when you could act, not then.  It was possible, the opportunity existed, but it was not taken and you can do nothing, but you must understand that it could have been done, that it should have been better. This was not a mistake, it was a choice, and now it is too late and you will say you want to help and make it better, but only as much as is possible now that the choice was made to let things become unfixable.

As Melissa and I were just about to head out of the house for her to catch her flight to Ohio, we received a call from one of the hospice workers who helps care for Anne and were told that things were not going well and they expect she will pass soon.  I threw a bag together so that I could try to get on the flight and go with her, but it didn't work out, and right now, the only flight I could book doesn't leave until Thursday morning.  I am trying to see if I can get up there sooner if I leave from another airport, but I don't know what is possible, and I am worried that, even if I could make it up right now, I am going to arrive too late.  I really wish that we hadn't decided that I would stay here this time, but had just booked tickets for both of us to go.  I also have to say that I am quite disturbed about this happening right at this time of year, within a few days of the anniversary of my Father's death.  It is just unsettling, and one cannot help but assume

There Was Smoke and it may have been mystical but it seemed to be heavy and dark and smelled  of moist earth.  It filled me and I was not glad, was not lifted, but sunk, was too heavy, my belly became  only a weight to carry and I was placed aside where I could slumber, and maybe there were dreams: I know where I slept was not in the place that was kept, in those days, for me, but in one reserved for another, for one whose steps marked the path, who I had followed and trusted, and thought would be a guide. He was not there, it was only a place to rest. Perhaps that was the lesson, perhaps it would be better if that had been considered the lesson to be learned all those years ago.

Melissa and I went out to a gala dinner tonight, as I think I mentioned before, as guests for my Mother's seventieth birthday.  It was a pleasant enough evening, and I am certain my mother enjoyed it.  It went rather late, though, and I did have a few drinks, to be blunt.  As well, Melissa is heading to Ohio tomorrow, and I am a bit sad we didn't have the evening to spend just for ourselves.  It wasn't anything we could have gotten out of, and I am not sure that we would really have wanted to, in truth,  If it were not the night before Melissa was leaving for Ohio, and especially considering that her Mother's health seems to be declining so, I wouldn't feel as conflicted, but things are as they are and that can't be helped.  It was still a very nice event, I just wish that it had taken place at a time when other matters were not more pressing on my mind.

 I Can Be Ready, Or I Can Wait if that is better.  I know now is not always the time, is not always when I am needed. I have learned. I know, you think I have no patience, but I have, I am saying, learned. Waiting is not beyond me any longer. You think you know, but I am not who I always was. Try me.  I am here, am returned, but I am not the same. There is so much that has been and you are waiting for me as if it was nothing. I am here.  I am not the same, though much that I need and want is not so different. Much that I can do is not so different.  I am, in ways, who I was then.  You can know what you can know, if you know what I am telling you, and if I know you  I am not telling you a thing you do not know already, but it is this way anyway. I am here and ready, that is most important  for you to know and realize: I am present now and in this place, though, as I have said, I can delay until things are prepared. I am ready now, but I am patient, have learned to wait, as well.

Things are not going so great with Melissa's mother right now.  It is not all that clear, to be honest, just what is happening, but we are hearing that their are some signs of real decline at the moment.  Melissa is going to fly to Columbus on Sunday.  She might have left sooner, but my Mom's seventieth birthday is tomorrow and it also happens to be a major gala that she has been helping to organize, so she is considering that as her birthday party, in a way.  I am also not certain about the flight situation, as I know she told me she had a bit of trouble with booking at one point.  In any case, she is going to be up there, so we spent a whole bunch of time today doing various important errands that needed attending before she goes.  Some were specifically for her mother's affairs, and others were just important tasks, and there was a lot to be done, but it was a productive day.  Melissa has been, understandably, very upset, and, while it is not clear just what is happening

My Mind Is Running Off This Way Again It is not certain, not any longer, and if not so now, it must not have been, there must always have been an illusion or a misunderstanding, or it was not that way, it was never possible it could have been, but it was distorted and purported and perpetuated, was made into what seemed to be certain, shown with care, with proper consideration of any angles.  Nothing flashes.  It may be, but to think it was intended, was done by choice, it is not any good, does not change it except in the worst ways, in bitter ways. It was nothing of that sort, I do not think, but I think it, at times.  It is not real, I know, it makes no sense. It is an apparition that haunts me on certain nights, in dreams or waking. The worst possibility, an even worse thing that is not, I do not think, not if I considerate it, but still it will appear, will raise as an idea, as it has tonight, my mind conjuring what is most awful. I do not know why.  I do not understand the reasoni

In becoming more comfortable with crafting fiction, I have been thinking a great deal about the question of what it is that allows me to write poems with ease, and I recognize, as I said yesterday, that a large part of this is that I can see how any idea might be seen as metaphorical, as a symbol.  If the poem is used to craft a certain set of contextual meanings around an image or idea, that idea can shift in meaning to become something very different.  That is to say, I can recognize that even a simple image or idea has an element to it that might be turned into a symbol, and thus be transformed into a representation of more. Because I understand this, I recognize that no matter what I throw into the poem, no matter where I begin, I always have the ability to draw out the poetic.  That is, I can see how the idea can be used as an element around which to craft a larger poetic idea.  The central understanding is about the reality that the superficial content of a poem is often more sig

Visitors in Dreams The ones who visit are not silent or kind, but they are not always remembered, or they may have been there without being noticed, though they clambored, made certain to speak in voices too loud not to cause a stir, but what they said, no one wants to know, no one wishes it to be and it is forgotten, because it seems too much and it might be the truth, but that is only worse. They are not silent, but they can be forgotten and they are never kind and will not leave until they are through, but that is the way of it and it may be that is a kindness, that what comes of it is what must come, that it must be or this will remain. They have come. Do you think they came  to be here for themselves? They have come. Look how they are, how they seem. They have come, are visiting, because it is needed, is what must be done. That is the way of it. They know. They will say it, will tell that truth as any other that they know. They are here to do what is needed, to speak. They have co

I am still working on writing more fiction, and I am thinking about what it is that allows me to feel comfortable writing poems on command, more or less.  A large part of that is my recognition that anything can be put into a poem, that whatever thoughts I am having can be shaped in order to express the idea is a poem.  The problem in trying to do the same with fiction is that I seem to feel there are certain necessary elements that can't just emerge in that same way as in poetry, but when I consider this more and more, I feel like it is really just an illusion.  I had a similar feeling when I started working to get back into writing poetry a few years ago, and I certainly did not have the sense, at that time, that I had the capacity to take any thoughts or feelings I was contemplating and use them to generate a poem.  Note that I am not in any way saying these are always good poems, but just that I recognize that anything can be fit into that form, and that I can access a way to d

It Was All Hidden Away so it would not be known because it might be unsettling, might be upsetting, and they did not feel like dealing with that, did not think my concerns were anything but a nuisance, and so they said nothing and acted as they wished without saying a word of what was being done, of what was taken away, and when I speak now, they tell me it is too late and nothing can be done, and I want to have the chance to say what must be said before it is too late, but they decided I did not deserve that and now they will not listen. It does not matter what I say now, I am told. It is nothing at all. I am only causing trouble. Maybe it is so, maybe it is that way, but I have no other choice. I cannot accept it, especially not when I was pushed aside as an irrelevancy, was treated only as the deserving victim.

I am feeling a strong desire to smoke tonight, but I am dealing with it.  I knew it would not be an easy thing and I prepared myself for that reality. I need to stop and I am finally at a point in my life when I want to.  I know I can and will make it through, it is just a matter of staying strong, though it helps that I don't have any cigarettes in the house.

I Know I Can Come to You but if I go there will it be different? You are not here because you are distracted and what distracts you will not be gone, will not be dismissed. If I come over the only change will be I can be there as you choose to place your attention elsewhere.

Melissa and I went out to dinner with my brother tonight and it was largely pleasant, which can be difficult with everything that has been going on.  Perhaps it is a positive sign, in general, but I worry, if I am honest about jt, that there is a sort of forced quality, not in a way that is overt and superficial, but in a sort of need we each put forth to keep from being fully honest with each other.  A lot of tension is still there, for everyone, I am certain, and it is good we can spend time together, but I wish it felt as if it were part of a deeper resolution to the real problems, and not just a feeling of letting them exist unaddressed and being nice about it without making things better.  This is rather a harsh assessment, I think.  I mean, there is a certain genuine care and love that exists and I am not going to deny that, and I recognize that there is a value in connecting even if other matters remain, but I cannot deny a fear of accepting things as they are without it actuall

It Is Gone There is no doubt it is no longer as it was. What was  is gone. That is how it is, that is what  can be said. But what if this loss is too much? What was true is not so, any longer, what was certain, what was needed and would be is gone, but it is still what is needed. It cannot be, but that has not changes the necessity.

I don't have a great deal to day tonight.  I did my writing and am pretty tired.  Melissa isn't feeling well, so I want to get done and go see how she is doing.  I am worried it might be an agitation of a condition she has, which is not fun, but it does mean I can be around her safely.  

Was Ever There A Door to Open or was it only a gap, only space between trees who shook out of the earth and stood like finger bones? It may have been there was also a door, but did it open? No one came. It was dark, the glass snapped beneath the pounding fist, then it was noticed. What of the days that followed? I asked you once what was still known, but you knew places only. I am a ghost that did not haunt you.

I want to write more fiction, but I have been struggling to get to it.  I think the real solution is to have an external outlet for it, but I am not certain how to produce that for myself in a way that will work.  I could, probably, just post a bit of fiction on here each day, but I don't feel comfortable doing that for various reasons.  I am okay putting up a poem as a sort of sketch or draft, but a story has more elements to it, I think, and I just don't have the same degree of comfort within that medium.  Early on, I did experiment with doing some fiction exercises on the blog, and that might be useful, but the problem for me is more about being in the process of creating stories and such each day.  I am always producing more poetry, and I would like to be crafting fiction in a similar way.  I feel as if writing fiction each day and producing new stories on a regular basis will take me a long way in the craft, and I want to put in that work.  It is just a matter of getting m

Some Took in The Water of That Land They drank it.  Filled their guts with what was not for them, felt it there, fighting within them, they were made unwell, but they did not fall, regained themselves and were awakened. They had drunk of the waters despite their being strangers, being the unwelcomed. They had taken it in, had allowed it, though they knew what must come, knew what would be. They chose that. It was necessary, they will tell you, it was necessary. Now, they are freed. They know the waters, now, and are freed.

I am starting to feel a bit of agitation over not smoking, but I made it another day, and I think it will be alright, I just realized, at a certain point earlier today, that I was getting upset and being irrational, and I needed to take a step back.  When I did, I realized that it was probably the nicotine craving.  I hadn't really thought about it or even noticed the feeling at the time, but when I stepped away, it was clear to me.  Realizing it helps to deescalate, but it is not always possible to be that self-aware in the moment.  Still, I am quite glad I reached that point in the end and was able to observe my behavior and recognize what was happening.  I know that, at some point, it is going to become easier, but right now it is still a moment to moment choice, and I still feel confident about making it through this period.  I do worry that it is difficult, that it is a continuous want, but when I think of the fact that the same sensation will exist if I give in, it will just

What I Cannot Know is if it was a want for what was there or for what I had or to take away, to prove you could do  what you wanted even when asked to not do it. Maybe it was too much, my request might have been too much.  I know, I can understand, but you agreed.  You chose to say yes. You did not ask me to consider it again or show concern. It was agreed. You did not explain or offer a reason for reconsideration, not until it was too late. I want back the promise you have broken and what I had before that, what I was protecting when I asked you. Things have not been well, not a single day has been well, not since this began. It cannot end unless it is fixed and it cannot be fixed. I know. I am trapped in a hell that you decided was what I deserved. At least be honest. At least let me know it was on purpose and you are glad. I want to know that is the truth. It would be a little better if you stopped saying it wasn't what you intended.

A third day of not smoking, and again I am doing alright, I think.  I am feeling a bit of nervous energy from the cravings, if I am honest, but I am doing alright with it in general right at the moment.  I know that I am going to allow myself to have a smoke at some point before I get to bed tonight, but I plan to wait on that for a bit.  It does not really do a great deal to help, to be honest, and that is kind of the point.  I am not looking for a single cigarette to quell my overall craving, but as a sort of way to recognize that a cigarette doesn't really help at all, doesn't solve the issue.  Rather, I am better off just going a bit without smoking and getting over the craving.  I don't want to be dependent on having one cigarette in the evening, and, indeed, I wouldn't be if it weren't for the reality that I had cigarettes remaining from my last pack.  I don't anticipate purchasing more in the future, so I won't have them for all that long, maybe a wee

I Was Hoping It Would Happen so I watched, and it did not happen, and I decided not to watch, because it was annoying to keep watching and waiting when it never would happen, so I did not watch and wait, and then it did happen but I was not paying any attention, was spending my focus elseware and never notice at all until it was too late and then it did not matter at all, I had not noticed when it would have mattered, and it did not happen again, so I stopped watching close, I have not been watching. I expect I might already have missed it happening again.

I made it through the day without smoking, once more, but did indulge in one this evening, as I had last night.  Again, it was not so great a pleasure, it merely reduced, for a short time, the craving, and in many ways was not so enjoyable.  It has been surprisingly easy to be without cigarettes most of the time, though the urge can grow strong at times.  My main tactic is to focus on the urge itself for a moment and to recognize that it won't last long, and that even if I smoke one cigarette now, in a little bit I will feel the same way again, and then I think about other things for a bit to distract myself and it usually subsides pretty fast.  Attempting to quit had me a bit nervous, but I feel, now that I am doing it, that I am prepared and ready to be done with thus habit.

I Forgot to Ask Today but maybe I can remember tomorrow.  I intended to ask, though I am embarrassed  at the need to be reminded, I intended to ask, because I need to know, but I did not ask and I am afraid if I do not ask tomorrow I will forget and forget and my embarrassment will grow and I will let it tell me it is not worth asking, now, it is too long.  It is important, I know it is important. I must not wait, but if I do forget again, it must not stop me. You will understand, I am certain.

Today was the day that I promised my doctor I would quit cigarettes, and I feel that I have done quite well.  I made it all day without one.  Each time I began to feel the craving, I just considered it and thought about the reality that, having a cigarette won't make a real difference.  I know that I can smoke a cigarette and still feel that same want return only a short while later, and I realized if the want for a smoke can be ignored for a few minutes it just fades away for a bit.  It will return, but as I said, that is bound to happen even if I give in to temptation.  I feel that I have made a big shift with it, and I am not all that afraid, right now, of sliding back.  I am certain I will have small slip ups, but I know that I have a different attitude about it than I'd had in the past.  In truth, though I wasn't necessarily doing a lot to actively change my habits before this, I was paying attention to them, understanding the way that my desire for a cigarette works a

Another Whom I Trusted We had, I thought, made a connection, and I trusted you, believed you  would be my ally, perhaps, even, an advocate. I believed it. You said enough that I believed it, but it wasn't, was it, at all important to you, was not the truth. Whatever there was had no importance, was illusionary,  a trick, a gambit. You had wants and needs and it was a good show that you created. I should have known, should have realized, but I suppose I have not learned.