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Today is the first day in a long time that I decided to write about my introspection. I guess i have to get a lot off my chest and maybe that might make it ok... i know it wont but its better than nothing.

This afternoon i woke up. I looked in the mirror and remembered what i'd done the night before. Talk. A lot. It was comforting in a way, having someone both listen and understand and appreciate while just being a friend. I thanked Bridget for her company but it was more than that. It was a thank you for bringing me back into my own mind and out of where i was before. I had a headache and the thoughts swam together again midnight my mother yelling. Her boyfriend popping pills like he carried a pezz dispenser again, but he was happy he venom was directed at me instead of him for the first time in 4 days since his operation; a double hernia coupled with two carpal tunnel surgeries. Oh he was in pain. Once again yelling in my head, an instantaneous response from your's truly full of equal venom and frustration as to why i cannot sit in a car in a driveway of my house which i have lived in for 19 years and not be accused of doing something wrong... again. The throbbing of the headache squelched out the thoughts and the emptiness in my chest reared its ugly head as it usually did around the time i become aware of the utter emptiness in my own life and fate i've perceived. This meant it was time for a cigarette, but not before slinking out of the my house like i needed to hide something, quietly.

A spark followed by a flame and a puff of smoke left by the first inhale. I look around at the street and trees and houses and feel nothing but suffocating isolation. It was just maddening the same thing in every direction for miles just desolate with 0% chance of human contact in 20% humidity. The sound of the tv still echoing in my ears from when i'd left, what was she watching again, Spice World, what a terrible movie or maybe it was just my perpetually dour mood. The sounds of the movie left my mind empty once again. If people ever asked me what was on my mind and i said nothing i meant it. It was the empty darkness that fed on itself and festered in silence. No warmth no light no thought. I threw half the cigarette into the little oxyclean container that we used as an ash tray. By we i mean Jeremy and Kayla, my mothers boyfriends kids. They'd already left for the morning but i couldn't help recalling them both. Jeremy the logical, the only one in the house who'd managed to stand on stable ground with my despite his outbursts. And Kayla, the crazy. Every time she moved he mouth it was either to b***h or complain or nag... or all three at once.

My resentment towards living in this place grows as i walk towards it and the people inside. It was always hard to keep those feeling to myself but i always pictured a cauldron simmering constantly and every once in a while overflowing to scald my soul and then anyone who prodded too hard or got too close. Its terrible to feel like this all the time. Like the emotions of your world are fodder for a fire and everything else is muted. It hurt people it shouldn't have. People I truly loved but could not overcome the hurt in my own mind and heart to think of them as they deserved. Its sickening to my ego. It makes me feel rotten. Incapable. Tired. Worthless. Unable to move or think or care.

There's this girl i hurt. Veronica. She was everything. My personal star. Her warmth and presence made me feel alive. She did for me more than i could ever hope to repay her. Her touch made me exist. When I'd left college and moved back home to wallow in self-imposed exile I fell back into the same pit. I'd gotten that empty feeling in my chest again. I couldn't make her understand that feeling and how it just sucked the warmth i had for her from me. How it broke me that i could talk and not touch, listen and not feel. So i stopped talking. Stopped listening. I just wanted to run and disconnect and hope that fracturing feeling would go away that maybe there would be some solace in feeling alone again. In going back to that void that had consumed me in silence and self-pity.

Walking back to the house with every step another memory, another misery, mine or someone else's i'd chosen to bare. Sitting down at the table even the bowl of Cheerios made me sick to my stomach. The repeated "Is this it?" resounding like a death bell again in my soul. Hearing my mother speak when once again she had nothing but contempt for existence did nothing to fix my mood. My grandmother, the gremlin in the basement, had decided to surface and spew the acid of her discontent about my choosing simple work over immediate college education was equally scalding. I could feel my hackles rising just from the anger and contention in the air seeping from every pore on them. I got up and left. I couldn't take it. It seems to be something i'm very good at. Walking away.

I could feel myself seething all day. Washing the cars, every sense was just overloading, making myself dizzy. Every cigarette i could just feel burning at my lungs. These gaps started to appear in my days, just not being able to remember what i'd been doing. Too focused on controlling emotional short circuiting, too blinded by the roil of emptiness within myself. I know the problem. I just cant find a solution. I don't even know where to start. I sat at the computer just browsing over gaia and seen that someone i'd known was online. I read through their journal and it tore at my heart. I was happy for their progress and sad for holding them back but torn at the prospect of losing them for good. However the blame still lies with me and my actions or lack there of. The emptiness is still here. At least I have something to do tomorrow to keep me from that pit that is this house and its inhabitants. Maybe one day soon i'll be free, but not yet, and so i sit here.

TBC