there is a light that never goes out

take me out tonight
where there's music and there's people
and they're young and alive
driving in your car
i never never want to go home
because i haven't got one
anymore

time to go

to sleep

to never wake

see you on the other side

i'll wait for you

in that fleeting moment

between slumber and awakening

where nothing hurts anymore

tried to convince myself that i didn't need it, but i guess i do; apparently it's all i have left.

how am i supposed to compete with that?

the million dollar hotel

the heart is a sleeping beauty, and love the only kiss it can't resist. even if its eyes lay open wide, there is a heart that sleeps inside. and it's to there you must be hastening. for all hearts dream, they dream only of awakening.

[tom tom - tmdh]

sanctuary

lying here in my sanctuary

days go past and it's autumn already

and i wish it would thunder

oh high up here in my sanctuary

days go past and it's autumn already

and i sit here and wonder

one can only hope

It has gradually been driven home to me that I cannot be of help to [a] troubled person by means of any intellectual or training procedure. No approach which relies upon knowledge, upon training, upon the acceptance of something that is taught, is of any use. These approaches seem so tempting and direct that I have, in the past, tried a great many of them. It is possible to explain a person to himself, to prescribe steps which should lead him forward, to train him in knowledge about a more satisfying mode of life. But such methods are, in my experience, futile and inconsequential. The most that they can accomplish is some temporary change, which soon disappears, leaving the individual more than ever convinced of his inadequacy.

The failure of any such approach through the intellect has forced me to recognize that change appears to come about through experience in a relationship … If I can provide a certain type of relationship, the other person will discover within himself the capacity to use that relationship for growth, and change and personal development will occur.

[Carl Rogers]

the way things are

in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day

[f. scott fitzgerald]

there were days - it seems so long ago now - when waking up in the morning brought along a good feeling of willingness to go to work, spending time in class, interacting with young minds, seeing friends, spending time outside. now, waking up (and going to bed) is ridden with anguish. what-ifs float around, loud as thunder in the silence of the night, sharing their noise with car alarms, vehicles speeding on the freeway, the 2 am train, sprinklers. the hours spent in bed before sleep takes over are filled with imaginary situations, none of them positive, studying possible outcomes, possible ways out, looking for doors and safe exits.
the short walk to work has new company now. palms that get sweatier the closer i get to campus, shakier with each step. each shadow an enemy; the eyes that used to wander from plants to sidewalk now scan the surroundings from every angle, in the vane hope of foreseeing the unforeseeable. it's an unwelcome paralysis in what used to be a pleasant routine. the perception of danger is behind every blind corner, brought on by the slimmest shadows, the tiniest noise, doors closing, doors opening, voices. a safe world now infected. it's surprising what a mere presence can do to a scarred soul.
every step is now dragged, slower, calculated, the body wrapped in heavy movements, as if saving the energy for a quick defense move, a fast run, a loud scream. the only sanctuary of safety is a small room - a golden cage is still, sadly, a cage - where the ear never fails to listen, assisting a body constantly scanning the floor's slightest vibrations brought about by steps on the stairs outside. the closer they get, the faster the heartbeats. shivers leave when they fade. i sit in the dark, thinking, breathing, rationalizing; mind wandering to dark places, phone always at arm's length. eyes water unexpectedly, panic finding its way out in liquid form from every pore. i speak less. i breathe less. i eat less. i sleep less. i dream less. i laugh less. i live less. i just hide.
a debilitating sense of loneliness comes about, born from the desire to have someone here, some company, some comfort, what if what if what if. the terror of being caught alone, unprepared, would anybody hear? would anybody notice? the desire to speak, to voice all this, mangled by the dread of being perceived as pathetically exaggerating the issue. a hand stretched out meets only emptiness.


and as i smoke yet another one, looking up at the moon hiding behind eucalyptus leaves, breathing in the cold air of the late, late night, i silently, tearfully wonder what tomorrow will bring.

many years ago i had my palm read by a fortune teller. tonight, i sleeplessly lie in bed wishing she was right.

the downside of always being there to pick up the pieces is that you're easily forgotten when the job is done...

tired, sleepy, angry, frustrated, thirsty, alone, baffled, hungry, replaced, ignored, lonely, silent, used, rejected, judged, misplaced, underestimated. sadly mistaken.

und so weiter...

one step closer

i'm around the corner from anything that's real
i'm across the road from hope
i'm under a bridge in a rip tide
that's taken everything i call my own
[...]
i'm on an island at a busy intersection
i can't go forward, i can't turn back
can't see the future, it's getting away from me
i just watch the tail lights glowing

this is why i dislike to be away. silence. disconnection. it hurts. it brings up a general malaise, and i don't know what to do. locked behind a thick rubber wall. can you hear me scream? even my joints hurt under this weight. a storm brews inside. can you see the rain through my eyes?
away. removed. alone.
save me.

in so many words, ugly

"you have a boyfriend in america?"

"no gramma, i don't."

"oh, well, don't worry if nobody wants you. you don't need one anyway. it's not that you're not pretty... i guess. but don't worry, you don't need to be pretty, you have other qualities."

a miracle

Booth: Here we are, all of us. Basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other. All searching for the slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places; some, they just give up hope because in their mind they're thinking "Oh, there's nobody out there for me." But all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while... every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark. And yes, Bones, he's handsome, and she's beautiful, and maybe that's all they see at first. But making love... making love... that's when two people become one.

Bones: It is scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space.

Booth: Yeah, but what's important is: we try. And when we do it right, we get close.

Bones: To what? Breaking the laws of physics?

Booth: Yeah, Bones - a miracle.

[303]

is my fate in the lines of my hands?

(original italian and french)

pointless

Before I write these annual review letters, I really need your prospectus. It does not need to be elaborate. Just 10-15 pp. plus a reasonable bibliography.

how do i tell you that i could not care less? how do i tell you that this life makes no sense to me anymore? how do i tell you that i completely lost interest in this? that, for me, it's all empty words, written without a purpose for an invisible audience? something that will not help anybody? or make anybody's life better? that my batteries ran out years ago? that i got to this point just because i didn't want to leave? that i like the kind of academic life that you so much despise? that research is pointless for me (at least in this field)? that i stay for the teaching? that it hurt to be set aside to favor someone else? that i despise all the competitiveness of this world? that i wish you found a place for me so i can stay, and not have to leave everything i hold dear? that i loved working hard but lost the pleasure for it when i was told 'we'll miss you'? what for then? so that you could pick her instead. good to know. but after all, i should be used to that feeling by now. always second choice.

beaten up

i just want this day to be over.

quick.

please.

what have i done to deserve this?

what am i lacking?

why am i not enough?

why always second best?

swirls of blue at sunrise

dazed and confused, numb, still awake at 5 am for who knows how much longer... read stuff i shouldn't have... just made it all worse than it already is... is there a bottom to this, at some point? it's silent outside, just the faint noise of cars on the freeway - where are you all going at this time of night? - and crickets, or whatever other critter makes that noise. it's a night, summery noise. summer. i like heat, but i have come to dislike summers. it was the time of year i loved the most, the time when i would go to the beach, see friends i hadn't seen in a whole year, enjoy freedom, swim, be in the water. now summer is time for silence, for distance, loneliness. now i hate summer. too much pain came from summer. and i have to go through it just to wait for the fall, just to come face to face with yet another nightmare. my world, infected, again. will i make it? will i be able to take it? will i get used to the feeling of blood freezing in my veins every time, cold sweat, muscles blocked? run away. i need to learn to run, and then start running and not stop. or get a car, and drive away. i wish i could walk to the beach now, sit by the water. i wish i didn't know how to swim. almost left. but where to go? and what for? i don't like the expiration date i have been given. i'm not an object. i feel like one. plastic. recyclable. bends, never breaks. glass core. shattered a long time ago. pick up the pieces, will you? put it together. 'we can make it better, we have the technology.' alanis as god, with a fancy skirt and long hair. like mine. would i look prettier with shorter hair? would i look pretty enough this time? thinner? taller? darker? malleable, like plastic, indeed. say what you want, you'll have it. genetically engineered perfection to fill your void. there once was something i was good at, i forgot what it was. i forgot a lot. poster child for lack of brain capacity due to sleep deprivation - hang on, i'll give you a photo. lack of short-term memory, they call it. and a scar, still there. did you know that? and everything else? the hidden, the unspoken, what i do and don't say. if you knew, what would you say? speechless, probably. more cars on the freeway - where are you going? can i go with? or am i destined to see you come, and go, and leave me behind?

on days like today i feel like such a waste of space and oxygen...