Como luceros fríos

Sobre el olivar hay un cielo hundido y una lluvia oscura de luceros fríos.

20 February, 2008

I still feel super strung out. My hands are shaking nonstop and I have a constant flutter in my chest.

I'm frustrated with myself. Just when I think I'm going to feel something, I immediately start to cut it off. It's that thing where I can feel it all shutting down in the back of my neck, my jaw, my shoulders. It's a reflex and I can't seem to stop it. And now I don't know if I'm maybe doing a little better or if I'm just more able to suppress everything.

A time when I was happy: I was with some older guy friends who actually never fucked with me. They were all good people. I was sixteen. We climbed a bridge over the Ohio River. There were catwalks just below it and we ran all over them. Then we found the a spot to sit and look down at the river. Two of them climbed out onto some of the beams. I could have stayed on that bridge forever. When I was too short to reach the handholds to get back up, they lifted me until I could grasp them.


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