Get your own
 diary at! contact me older entries newest entry

1:47 a.m. - 2001-10-17
Take That Serotonin Receptors!
I love Jane. She is my best friend without a doubt. I know her better than I've ever known anyone in my life. But to quote Sailor Ripley, sometimes the way her mind works is gods own private mystery.

I have grown more in the past year and a half than In the rest of my life combined. My whole brain function has changed. I used to liken my mind to a locomotive, a runaway train that blasts through everything in it's path. It worked for me, very useful in analytical situations and when faced with any sort of problem. People liked to come along for the ride sometimes, see where my brain would take them, but they always had the luxury of getting off when the ride got too bumpy or the speed made the train unstable. Not me though, I was stuck on that motherfucker 24/7. And like an engineer whose gone deaf from the noise, my sensitivity to other people was warped, I knew of nothing else.

I knew of nothing else because that was all I had experienced from my earliest memories. My earliest dateable memory is my third birthday. I remember it, and I remember my stress even then.

The train served me well, it got me places and helped me to experience things and succeed. In my short life, I've been published, survive a whole fishing season on a commercial vessel, grown marijuana on a large scale, bench pressed twice my body weight, learned to dance salsa, and lots of other bullshit. I have friends who promote clubs and can get on almost any guestlist in the city. I know of at least seven people who would drop anything to help me if I needed it, and more that would risk their own neck for me. And I gained all of this with the help of that fucked up engine of a brain.

But that shit hurts, yo. At points it hurt so much that instead of wishing it would slow down, I just wanted it to stop altogether. Dead.

In spite of all that it helped me to accomplish, there were times when it had me quivering in a corner by myself, too fucked up to talk to anyone, my dog cyrus my only companion. As corny as it may sound, that dog saved my life.

The first night that Jane spent at my house, I got a call from my mother in Canada. Cyrus got hit by a car and killed. At the exact moment that I was beginning to forge a bond with the person who was about to see me through the most incredible period of my life, my dog, who had played that role previous, died.

Jane and I have been inseparable ever since.

I now live in a space that feels different than anything I've ever felt. The train is still here, and I can't always control it's speed, but what I am leaning to do is not throw more coal in the ol' furnace. It is the biggest relief you can imagine. Have ever had something in your eye, something so irritating that your almost sure that your eyeball must be scratched and then ~blink~ it's gone? It's gone and it feels so good to not have that pain anymore that it's actually pleasure- true pleasure. That's how I feel now.

The problem is, I don't trust it yet. I'm still waiting for it to be a passing phase that will end up leaving me right back on that fucking locomotive.

The thing is, If I can't trust it yet, how can I expect Jane to? Her ride alongs with me did damage. She never had the tolerance for pain that I grew. She was hurt by me, and hurt bad. She gained the same benefits that I always did from "The Process" but it left her in shambles.

So Mr.Truth Hurts is left standing here. A new way of life and done scared off the one I want to share it with. She says she wants to believe, she says she wants to have it all again but it's gonna take time. Time.

Okay, time it is.


previous - next

about me - read my profile! read other Diar
yLand diaries! recommend my diary to a friend! Get
 your own fun + free diary at!