4

Imagination is sex.
Sex is imagination.
I’m still addicted to sex. That’s what coming from child molesters does to you. Makes you so sensitive to it, makes you so addicted to something horrific, but maybe beautiful, if I can just keep my psyche intact.
It’s okay that I’m not eating, I think to myself, it’s okay that I haven’t eaten in a really long time. This is my dark night with the soul, and my deep dark day, and my deep dark night ..
I over did it. I over sensitized, over-stimulated, lived too much, too many stories, too many _adventures._ Ran too far into safety. I should have been braver.
It’s okay to have a totally different existence than your children. They’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. It’s okay.
In this country, you can create your own world, then fight for it.
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(Thinking about moving, how hard it will be.)

That’s the price of being so Independent, you don’t know anybody.
I might be dumb, I might have pain, but there’s nothing wrong with me. My How is just fine and it improves rapidly. I could be living at the House right now and I’d be happy.
All I have to do is be stronger than that, more sensitive than that. I remember the play grounds she would take us to when we were little. Pre-school age, during the summers, when she wasn’t going to school.
The tough guys like K__ and Muc__, are making fun of it, making fun of themselves, that’s how they handle it, manage through to moving forward.
It is fun to live timelessly, as a shifter, but it’s also fun to live in the moment, to come all the way forward.
I have faith. That’s why it takes pot for me to feel this way, my faith was weakened. Maybe this is what Christians go through. They wake in the morning and at first sight pull into the negative (maybe), but then they have faith, and stay high by that faith.
Have Faith, and Be Powerful, are the same thing.
The reason I have to post anonymously is that I never want to say these words: I’ve been through a lot. Or a lot’s happened,
I want to be the Shifter. It’s hard to be and not be at the same time.
That’s high -- Western culture, one where it’s impossible not to be happy, it can be impossible to feel pain.
It’s like I was dying a little bit, with each day of my childhood, each incident.
I’ve just gotten shaky after all that’s happened. So much has happened, and I never really get to talk about it.
The time when I’m not high becomes the adventure, and whenever the adventure becomes too much, I’ll just smoke again, but I’ll keep them few and far between.
You can’t help but be happy when you’re a child, and you use imagination if you have to. At some point you find the pleasure in hurt.
What’s with all this pain? I’m just tired from all that’s happened.
It never occurred to me that I could live this long. To live past sixteen seemed unlikely.
I want to stay high until I’m sure there are no more deep dark secrets. I like surprises, but I don’t want nothing running my life but me.
You got used to it, was the answer back. You got used to not being present. You’re a creature of habit.
Not being high is all the way into the forward, where I can’t remember anything. That’s the place I couldn’t handle before. Now I’m ready .. I sat up from where I was sitting.
I don’t normally breathe deeply. I didn’t know you can breathe all the way into there.
This is the boredom part. I remember how boring the House could be, just like deployment, I had to pull interesting things into my world through books. I laid back into the recliner.
Let the boy do whatever he wanted .. I remember those days. I was healthy then. Shortly before I went back to work. All morning I’d watch the squirrel attack the bird feeders with acrobats.
Directors like to show horrific things in a dark way, never in a beautiful way. Spielberg did Schindler’s List in black and white, Halloween movies are dark and shadowy. But rarely do you see a horrific story on the backdrops of luscious sunsets and awe-inspiring views. They should, like The Color Purple did, because that’s the secret. To step away and see the beautiful photograph of it, to see the world soulfully.
I’ve always seen the world as a beautiful place, so beautiful I can’t possibly be a natural part of it.
I was all the way in the forward to the point I was drunk on it, I’d forgotten that I’d chosen to be there, I forgot I had a soul running everything, the Brave one, the one who knows how much it hurts to be in over your head.
You take the gift of mental illness.
What it offered me, what it got me through. Its horrific choice to remember the memories.
I wanted this, I wanted to experience this correctly, I’m the one who cut my experience short until I could. I wanted to document it as my own service, my gift back to the gift, but it’s over now.
I’m totally free.
I’ve been living the same life over and over and over until the child in me was done, then I was set free.
Others have been totally free this whole time. They don’t understand what it’s like. The pot heads think it’s cool, to be a Shifter, but few else.
It’s summer and I’m twenty-seven. That’s all I need to know.
I want to enjoy summer. I’m going to the beach in about a week; there’s no better way. I want to shower, and wash the dishes, and sit out on the porch, do all these things in the breathtakingly beautiful backdrop of summer.
Of course sex is an assumed option. Just as assumed as everything else in the simplistic twenty-seven and summer.
That’s the whole idea behind me smoking pot. To have an experience that has nothing to do with me. To learn to live that way.
It seems I’m trying to grow a beard. I haven’t showered in a long time. Just relax, I think to myself.
(watching The Cosby Show where Theo gets in trouble with the cops and the father’s exhaustion has double meaning.)
We are supposed to be rambunctious. We’re supposed to be kind of bad, overly free. It’s assumed that we’re mostly pretending to be Good, acting Good, when we’re manageable, out of the kindness of our hearts.
I saw this scene in my head, it had a glamorous tinge like that movie, The Talented Mr. Ripley, it was someone playing me and another actor playing someone in my life.
_You know, Chuck, I watch you,_ the other guy says. _And I know you don’t talk much about your past._
He has a bar glass in his had, a little whiskey and ice, he’s leaning back in the boat, we’re on the ocean off of Italy.
_And most of the time you say you don’t remember much. You have a memory thing, you’ll say._
With this he leans forward, ready for the kill.
_I bet, you remember everything. I bet you remember everything all the way. Just as good as if you had it written down._
An hour later I had an answer for him: _That’s why I’m not afraid to forget._
The weed shows me how to be happy through anything, even this. It’s like it gives me permission. Just because I know how to be happy in the horrific, doesn’t mean I constantly have to practice happiness that particular way. I’ll remember how to be happy if I am ever in the horrific again.
I keep thinking I’m supposed to be learning things while I’m high, learning a new How, but what I keep learning is about how I already was Brave. How there’s nothing more because I haven’t realized I’m already doing it. Always was. I was a calm baby. No one could believe how calm I was, always commenting on it.
It’s like I can say to myself: it’s okay to be happy. You’ve already proved you can be relatively happy though the horrific. Just don’t be afraid.
Then it says you were brave, you just don’t see it cause to other people, from a different set of standards, you seemed quiet, affected.
It is a fact that a human being has to be very brave to go through the horrific and not lose their mind. You’ve always been brave.
I know the mantra is Remember Remember, but when I’m not high, I just remember remembering. I remember what it felt like. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
A lover doesn’t want to see the world through my eyes. They want to see me. That’s what I have a hard time with. The ‘everything is sex’ stuff is easy for me to understand. It’s the platonic stuff I don’t get.
Why is it necessary to have to talk about things? If it has nothing to do with the lover, than what’s going on? It’s the price you pay for mental health sometimes.
Haven’t you wanted to feel things deeply, I think to myself, how are you going to once you let hurt go?
I’ll just feel it the sexual way, instead.
And to feel it sexually is to feel it all the way in the forward, to be brave.
I have these images of being a part of a family, or even a few families like in Parenthood or Modern Family, why not share them, make them real, let other people have some of the other roles. What does it matter if it’s temporary? Live all the way.
It’s not about who I am .. that’s already been covered. It’s about me not believing who I am.

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It’s a scary thing to trust that I am perfectly trained for what I’m intended for. Considering the kind my specialties are.

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