Small things keep me going.

I could feel every warming particle of air as I walked yesterday. It hung on me in a cloud as thick as water itself. Then, I was climbing. Ledge, mantel, hand-foot match, crimper, crimper, mono-pocket all came long in the moment and then instantly gone until the next. We climbed out, packs on, ate at the old store and slung our headlamps around our necks. In the sunset, deep in conversation, we hiked through an old railway tunnel. While in the middle, a dot of light hung on the horizon. The body walked forward in the calm and conversation, not sensing the light was far or near. No other light, just the subtle feeling that if one would focus on the light, all else would fade. Then, we walked on through the night.

Sobering thoughts

silhouettes of trees in the dark that night
as I walked alone, away from the crowd
and I knew then that I was not I
except then

I scream outward
further am I now

Don't be such a downer

The cold, metallic taste, rises from the back of my throat. Three pills down, five more to go, and the nausea will build until again I am awake at 2am, sweating, needing to vomit, yet staying the desire to fulfill this primitive urge. I would rather just disappear into obscurity until the task is complete. I would rather not joke or share stories, or be around anyone.

Deep breath. I can't be such a downer. Deep breath, and I try to focus on one thing that will make me happier. Something not ephemeral. Something small and constant, begrudgingly good.

Sigh. Let's do this again with a smile. It's the wrong time to be dragging other people down.

Happy Holidays.

Again, I sit on the brink.

I still remember the night in Portland when I found out I was homeless. The summer air hung on me. It clung to my clothes as I walked. My breath, shallow, starved my brain. I had faced the fear of the unknown and cowered. I lost hope. This was the consequence.  I shrunk from what could have become to follow the sure thing.

It may have been fruitless to hope in the vastness of the unknown, but what else is there unless I held onto hope?

Till my last dying breath, I shall hope. When the summer air stands above me and casts its eyes down again, I shall be looking up and saying, "Hey, I'm here, and I have hope. Do your worst because I no longer fear the pain of loss."

I shall embrace the loss until I win this tireless game.

Or I shall die trying.

Because I could not just say, OK.

Cold smoke drifts from your mouth into mine. Needless space to pass the time, from mouth to mouth, before they intertwine. I do not have you. For not even the fairest notion of have doth have you. I feel you. Your freedom breathes on me gracefully as our lips part. I nestle my hand down and you slip yours into mine. From me, a stutter of infrequent gasps. Oh how our minds do climb.

Future v. Fear

Perpendicular patterns march above as I stare at our white suspended ceiling. The yellow iridescence from a cheap light shines outward, not bright, not dim. I look down. I see the cheap painted white wood paneling, a fern and two plants I do not recognize. Weird pictures hang on the wall, once jokes but now fixtures in this place.

I sigh.

Can  I let nostalgia creep in and not destroy myself? I have had some bad times, but they were mixed with such beautiful experiences. I yearn for that greatness even if it comes with such pain. For life is meant for living. 

As Pia used to say, "You'll never be free, Brian, until you let go of all fear."

I think I finally  understand what she meant. What is there to fear? We all die. Well all have one life. For what is life if we do not expose it to all the risks for the sake of life.

I want to run faster. I want to fall on my knees, unable to breathe, gasping for one breath of air. I want to push it to the very limit and test it, always.