He looked at us and said...
I want those words to be spoken at my funeral. Those kinds of words that should always meant to be said while someone was alive. Those kinds of words that I say to you when you sleep far away from me. Those kinds of words that I wish fall on your ears even though you are gone from my life.
I want to be choked by someone else's honesty in the face of my own misery.
Swing the pendulum one-way or the other, but choke me. Cut off my ability to react in anything but a slump or smile. Let me feel the way I make you look.
I am numb these days to all but doubt and expectations of pain. I am numb to anything that may be rewarding because the obstacles in my way, though not present to the reward, are quite real, and quite cumbersome.
I want to bleed out my life onto the street. I want it to mean something. I don't want it to look like merely something you throw a jacket over to keep your shoes from getting dirty. There are moment when that blood comes so close to coming out of me that I have to walk away from everyone. I have to walk away and not care about anything that anyone is trying to grab, steal, or beg from me. I become extremely alone and mean. I enjoy it.
I want to feel cold hands on my elbows walking me towards the corner alley to stick its greasy tongue in my mouth and drag long bony claws on my stomach. I want to feel sick at the world again. I want to feel excited about the world again. As it stands now I am only feeling optimism towards the past and trying to look to the future beyond any obstacle and any person holding ice cubes where there should be cup cakes.
I don't want to take it out anyone. I don't want anyone in this room with me. I don't want to look at anyone when I'm like this. I want to go get drunk. I want to go fall down. I want to put on sad songs and smoke cigarettes, blowing smoke out of my window and watching the people below. This is what drives me to become better again. Being alone is the best medicine I can give myself. I am not an idler. I am not that lazy. When I am alone I work. When I work I feel better. When I feel better I hope to speak to you again with a lighter heart and the ringing of a eulogy in my ear.
Do I want you to leave?
Emphatically -
.
.
.
YES!
