If you want Humour, I strongly suggest you MOVE ALONG SWIFTLY

I can’t explain it. I don’t know what causes it, so I can’t fix it. This terrible, terrible hurt that takes over me more and more regularly these days.

How do you fix a life? How do you fix a person? Can a person even be fixed, or do you pretend that the cracks and gaping holes make you ‘special’?

Lack of love, too much fear, too many assumption, lack of honesty, lack of respect, too much anger and aggression, I suppose I could go on and on about possible causes. Truth is, I do not know. Only thing I do know, is that on some level, I am dead. The will to go on, go out, go find something, someone, some love, no longer drives me. I am at a stand still. I am breathing, I am eating, I am working, I am sleeping, I am nurturing, but the part of me that had any kind of faith in the future of me, is dead.

I am mourning my passing, I cry at inappropriate times, for no conceivable reason. I become angry at light-heartedness, and I idly wonder when I got older than my parent, when I chide her for being silly. I watch my body act it’s biological age, and I get pissed off at it. It longs to fulfil the biological imperative, while the mind, heart and soul knows, this ain’t gonna happen. My body cries, bleeds, ovulates, lives, while the rest of me gets dragged behind, just passively wondering at body’s stupidity. It doesn’t know we’re dead. It thinks there’s still reason for survival, it wants to get up, fuel itself, live.

I feel disconnected, like a part of me is floating in that space we go, before shooting off into nothing, while the grounded, earthed part, is trying to drag me back down to earth. Dispassionately, I watch my own hands grabbing at me, and I wonder whether I should bother to pry them loose, or just wait until they give up on their own. Until body learns it’s over. And just lets go.

My opinion of why we’re here, is this – to love. Each other, other species, the Great Mother Earth, ourselves, life. So, if this is why I consider myself necessary, and there is no-thing that needs this from me, why am I still feeling coarse office carpet under my feet, why do my eyes open every morning, why do my ears hear birds, and cars, and the coffee percolating in the kitchen? Yes, I know. I am a mother, which means that I am needed by a child, but my son is ok, now. Even if I were to turn tail, and flee, he’d be ok, because he’s a beautiful being, he’d be good and fine. He’d hurt, for a while, until it faded, but my being or not being around, wouldn’t be the deciding factor in his life. He’s ok, he’d cope. I feel as if, that short, short space of time that a child needs a parent totally, has passed. He is fully formed, now. He is strong.

Now, the landscape around me is vast, and empty, and scary beyond reason. I am not brave enough to be here without loving someone. I am also not enough of a coward to throw myself away, and love someone just for the sake of existence. Being loved wholly, and loving wholly, is what makes me, and without it, I am nothing, have nothing, give nothing, take nothing. I need to love, as others need to belong to flocks. As long as I have my love, I’m ok, I am someone. Without it, I am a piece of space debris. Ugly, and ultimately destructive. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not like this, not at all. If I could think myself dead, I would have. If I could choose to close my eyes one night, and just … slip away, I would. But, every morning, I wake up, and I wait a moment, so my mind can believe that I’m still breathing, still seeing, still needing to get up. So it can realise I’m still alone, still lonely, still broken, still sad, sad, sad, still …. mostly dead, only, still bound.

Still here.