2005Feb25

There have been so many thoughts, many lost, and with too much repetition or hesitance on my part with some. Women, love, life, art…the list goes on – I have to make a separate folder for each theme! The work I’ve set about doing is to heal myself, but the ramifications involve others. I’ve spent the time I needed to separate myself from others, to make myself physically healthy again. Now the pieces are falling into place (still too slowly for my taste) and while I process these journal entries my soul anticipates a finished product – a cohesive story, maybe a letter, or a mission statement. It doesn’t matter what it’s called by others. To me, it’s a metamorphosis of being. My life has undergone such a change – my escape from alcohol, codependency, etc… Hell, I’m single again – for the moment, maybe longer. My emergence (alive) into the society I was such an ugly part of remains a source of constant misunderstanding and gossip. Yesterday someone said “Why’d you do it?” as he walked on by (I still get snubbed all the time) and I have the feeling I didn’t do whatever it is he’s talking about…. Par for the course in this backwards place of rumors and reputations and social politics. Humboldt is a popularity contest. Words this last month are legion, legacy, and legend. (Root- leg?) I mostly just walk, write, and eat these past six months. Alcohol was not easy, but anorexia and abuse issues nearly killed me. I manifested my worst fears, out of a pattern of self-abuse. Now I live with the life – and identity – I created, for better or worse. I am a committed person, perhaps too personally driven, but with an unbreakable faith. Transcribing these journals has been the tearing of the cocoon (the opening of Pandora ’s Box?) and what will ensue is still as of yet unclear, but there’s one thing for certain and that’s the resolve that will come, hopefully, with Leticia. Whatever the result, I know I will sleep well again. Dreams, rubies, butterflies and dragons…. It’s hardest to write about the worthlessness, my low self-esteem, and failures in general but they are the shadows that punctuate a flash of light. A spark or bolt or flame does not matter. I cannot wait to compile the poetry, and to count the number of times I wrote about my love for Leticia – I have no other choice but to express my truest feelings as I establish my self as valuable and belonging. God, truth, trust…. These are parts of who I am. For now I am enshrouded. I am protected but alone. Now, though, my struggle is refreshing like coming up for air even as I still kick my legs. It’s the gentle rip past the immediate point of no return…. It’s what has begun that cannot be changed. I still feel the aftermath of near-death and my body has yet to become completely healthy. I still need to quit smoking and start drinking more water, but it’s easier from here on out. I still miss Leticia, but I know I will be happy with the outcome of this entire situation.