oblige your ascension
one month ago. five weeks. at the absolute least. there were momentary glimpses of hesitation just for show, like you were trying to convince a stranger that you don’t really want to try it again but they know what they’re expected to see. but, no. it’s to disconnect. that’s what it’s always been. right now, her aggravated velocity home won’t be further or faster enough away from my mind. but i couldn’t lie. but i couldn’t cause someone’s hurt. i loved her enough to know i couldn’t do both. couldn’t have smoked either, but i unplugged. three solid hits, and about 5 minutes of my time. at first i put a movie on, but rather i decided make just a little something out of it and play pink floyd’s animals and write for a bit. because it was ten minutes into the film and i realized suddenly, as the great dense weight was placed on my shoulders, like lead armor, that even the high wouldn’t tune out what transpired 90 minutes earlier. you never really disconnect. it’s still there.
phase two is the self-loathing neglect. how i saved a sorry guilty face for the whole thing. pussy footing through for all of most of it. couldn’t even lock eyes for more than five seconds. but still reciprocated. because there are more than several goodbyes. but it came down to me sitting quietly and sometimes motionless waiting for the acceptance to kick in. the memory, as fresh as it could possibly be at this moment, is all just flicker and noise to me. replays will come back to me in sporadic epiphanies throughout the following days at work, sober and concentrated and focused at anything my mind throws at me. staring at a smoke detector or the glass in my hand, scattered echoes of the precise spoken words. it’s here, roughly 30 minutes in, that i can really feel in my body how unhelpful this smoke is for me. typing is more difficult, forming sentences, it’s like it wants to put a block against this shit. yeah the spins feel good, but the risk
christ in less than 48 hours i have to sit my ass at some table surrounded by family and answer questions about how she’s doing. god forbid ‘when do we get to meet her?’
get better. stop coming in, looking like you’ve got something to be ashamed of. because without some remote kind of ambition or step forward you have every reason to be. no joke, you’re taking 3 hits and about five minutes of your time straight into a total absence of pride and their passive-disgusted glares at your questionable future. how about we keep fucking up a good thing at a one attempt minimum. right now, all i can do for myself is chalk her up as yet another person to see on some further off day when shit’s together and i get the privilege to talk about what i’ve always wanted to talk about. something that can be truthfully written on paper. otherwise they’ll continue to drift, on slow waves, and there’s no telling if they or i ever show up that off day. sitting on land, having a heater, thinking.