Goodbyes and Revelations

I am working, and prouder for it. The many times in these past few years i found myself the reciever of such goodwill and yet felt nothing but contempt for the world, have soldified in my mind at last. I can now begin to remove myself from the remnants of a disorder I did not notice creeping in and did not notice creeping out. There is happiness in me now, the inexplicable happiness that arises when one is not aware. There is sadness too, but for reasons palpable and real.

I said goodbye at the beginning of the month to the best friend i have ever had. Not in a permanent sense, but in one where regular, or semi-regular communication would prove incredibly difficult. this of course is largely parcelled in our own personalities. We do not communicate well at distances, to anyone. I will and do miss him like an arm.

My window to an existence I had forgotten is now gone and i worry for him greatly, but he will, i know, read this and scoff. ask himself where has the old mick gone. in truth my friend, with you, to canada.

all is not hopeless however. i am discovering once more, a well within myself. the reasonings for my orphaned consciousness are appearing to me in dreams again and some days, unlike before, i can breathe and know that i am. the questioning has not evaporated and will not, until like a child i can gleam the answers second hand from some external source deemed reliable. I cling to them, a newborn at tit. suckling from humanity what i know is mine needed, as a babe knows, but wieghted by the horrible insight that it can always be denied. what is this?

i see pity, external and realised in the faces of those trying to communicate for a single second. that i am priveledged enough to ignore that in body is enough to tell me i am human, and free, but the mind drawn by a force its/my own leads me there again. but to know of it is not enough, and to live it for that fleeting second painful narcisism. i can live for a while at least as my father sees me, in folly with hopes too broad to avoid the oncoming rocks.

and yet, yet... there is love. so much that my heart breaks and heals simultaneously at the thought of it. This world where people happily announce the birth of a child or an engagement in purity. unsullied by the worry that has filled me. and i have love too. someone to cradle, and who cradles me. the absolute ultimate in wonderful reciprocal surrogacy. my wounds are hers and hers mine. the strength that i am filled with simply because she exists is indescribeable. i love, and all that entails to the fullest.

I miss everyone i have have ever met. my sins visit me at night in the form of a blue woman that screams. to be a participant now in my own existence is my goal. i am inaccessible, convoluted, detached from the reality i wish desperatley to paint. and so i have painted, and do paint, worlds around this world. each staggeringly similar and uninteresting. the colours more vivid and memories where none exist at all, and it is a falsehood that insults the reader. i have forgotten my childhood and it is for the best, but now i wish more than anything to live unstunted and to grow, with you all, into something that resembles an artist. i have begun to think it is the only way. let love and sin and fear and pity all merge into one beautiful pallette. perhaps then, upon its realisation, i can leave behnd this autoeroticism in verse.