2

I notice that when I straighten my neck, pulling it back, it’s like something connects in there, and that morphine feels flows down my body, into
my legs. Except that I’m not high anymore.

I can get high on my own now, it’s just a switch of perception, a switch in the eyes. I just remember the words written here, and I can see it, what
Tolle was always talking about.

Lately it’s like I’ve got my legs back. None of this letting my body work ‘naturally.’ My being aware is natural. Now that I can feel the insides of my legs and feet and toes, it’s like they’re mine again. To have that kind of effortless control, it makes me feel athletic.

__________


Sunday 24APR2010

Woke from intense dream. It was a cloudy morning, cloudy day, and Mom had
locked herself in the kitchen.
People from church kept coming by. I was a
little kid but still me. W__ was another little kid who had died. I kept this little block of wood (or is it plastic?) that reminded me of him, it was shaped like a staircase, like the one to the church balcony, it felt important, like if I ever let it go I was doing something wrong.

There was going to be a funeral. Everyone was concerned for Mom. Mom seemed angry at me.

It felt like every time I exhaled my heart would almost collapse in on itself.
I kept picturing him in my mind and then wanting to cry because I didn’t have a real picture of him.
He’ll never know what it’s like to grow up. He’ll never know what it’s like to be a teenager. How can death be so final?
It didn’t feel final to me. If I squeezed the little block of wood it was like I could feel him right there with me, as if he hadn’t gone anywhere at all. I told myself this is just how it will be from now on. I’ll hold on to him, keep him here, and it’ll be like he didn’t die.

I woke up, still feeling devastated. But W__’s not dead, I told myself, I just messaged with him on Facebook.

Then who’s dead? Trevor. It took me a minute to realize these were memories.

I felt afraid like how I always feel in the face of an oncoming flashback or strong memory. Just melt into it, b, I told myself. All it is is shifting. You’re good at that.

So now I’ve shifted into a world in which those memories exist, and the old world is gone forever.

The dream was simple, like a moment in time, me in the morning, trying to stay in bed, Mom in the kitchen, church people coming by sometimes, the house is quiet and me squeezing the little block of wood. But it was the intensity of the feelings ..
I know now what it feels like to have someone you love die. I didn’t know I knew that, I didn’t know I was so familiar with the feeling, carrying it around with me all along.

I go through the morning regularly asking myself if I’m alright. The only way I’m alright is if I give myself credit for the memories. They’re difficult, but already lived, and when I give myself credit I can feel the strength and bravery already displayed and still inside of me. As the world shifts closer to True, so do I.

__________


　 In the afternoon I took sixty-four pills because I’m still treating the new memories like a novelty to be written down and put away instead of accepted and lived in the not-numb place. Figured sixty-four would be enough to get me there.
M__ might be coming over Monday and I’m supposed to get all caught up on the house, etc, before he gets here.
Now it looks like I’m going to be high for at least five days. I just listened to a voicemail where Ms J__ had Bri__ ask me if I was going to go to the cookout tomorrow. Everything’s kind of complicated.

.. I’m remembering a lot, I can feel the rape in my fingertips.

__________

(Monday morning)

M__ might be coming over today. I feel like an asshole because I slept from Saturday evening till 10 am this morning. Steven Rideau was on my mind but I was in his role in the dream instead of the other guy’s in Presque Rien, even sexually. I was surprised how masculine it was. I held on to the feeling as I woke up, drank a lot of green tea, cooked, and showered.

I had the film Presque Rien playing as I did chores. In the film Stephan Rideau has a relationship with another guy. In the film Rideau takes it between the buttocks in their sexual relationship, and yet he beats everyone out as far as athleticism and masculinity. The actor eases my mind as far as having been raped and still being masculine.

__________

(Wednesday)
Somewhere along the way I lost the green notebook. I had finished typing up what was in there, but not having it with me it’s like my life’s stalled out.
Without reckoning with its words regularly it’s hard for me to feel hope. It’s hard for me to feel the safety and freedom to think and feel freely without the notebook nearby to write things in.
House called me at work. It’s amazing how brave he is, to call here and ask for me and act cordially over the phone despite it having ended badly between us.
House, K__, their masculinity is pretend, I reminded myself. Their manner, their ways, convincing at first. They know the world is acting, so they think they’re good to go - but I’m Real - I’m not pretending - I’m allowing myself to act Real. There’s a difference, there has to be.
A few days ago it bothered me, lying there, realizing that inevitably someone would be lying beside me. It’s so much like the House’s set up: R__’s set up; the way my parents shared a bed. Is that my fate? To be that much like him, except I don’t rape children? Seems like too fine a line. I guess that’s why I didn’t go House’s or K__’s route becoming Him.
I knew there were Real Hims and pretend ones, Men and Monsters, and how they could look and seem exactly alike.
House’s calling bothered me, him always acting like we’ll inevitably be friends again.
I went back and red some of Real, especially the part after House shows up. When I reread this story, it’s like I almost see it the way someone else might, and I catch myself seeing myself as Him. It’s also like I’m experiencing the story for the first time. While I experienced it in real time I was numb, and now that I’m not, it’s like I read the story and experience it a totally different way.
I wonder if I go out of my way to not be like R__ to the point I risk my manhood and Him altogether. Like how I stayed away from sex.
Sometimes I ask myself how it’s going to be: I like girls because it’s so easy. You can sleep with them for twelve hours and still they want more - maybe because what’s between their legs didn’t develop all the way in the womb, so it can’t orgasm all the way like a guy’s can. How can you say no to a pretty girl who wants that badly?

But then everything will start to be like the House: Marriage, kids, family.

__________


(Thursday 29APR2010)
Though I haven’t been high in awhile I shifted to a place where I saw that we were nothing but animals. Funny, all along I’ve dreamed of what it would be like to have the purity of a coyote or buck or panther as if that purity were separate from me because I’m not an animal - but I am.
Maybe that’s why humans are in their heads so much, reiterating over and over to themselves
that they are more. It’s a little jarring, to know the same loneliness and finality that an animal does. This is the world, this is life, this is it.
It’s like I can make out this place I can’t describe very well. It’s timeless. It’s so Now. When I look at the world physically, without a word in my head, that’s what I see. It’s like time is just a concept to fuel the story in human’s heads that the world is different than it really is.
There’s no such thing as time, there’s just Him, and this before me, and the shifting.

__________