philosophical-zelf-enthusiast

[philosophical-zelf-enthusiast]

the lifts in the fulton building are out of service

i had a lecture today that was upstairs in one of the buildings on my uni campus and the lifts were all out of service.

i broke down into tears. a year ago i would have been able to face the pain, i would have been able to make it but that is just not an option anymore.

my pain is slowly getting worse and worse and i am only 19. i am lucky to have wonderful supportive friends who help me as much as they can but i cannot help but feel like a burden. there is so much inescapable grief in being disabled and having chronic illness. i grieve my health, i grieve my inability to do so many things i watch others do with ease. i cannot even cook my own food or do dishes most of the time. it hurts more than just physically, i feel violently wounded by my body's genetic makeup, by the very fibre of my being. i am rotting. i am not well, i will never get better and i will never be okay in any meaningful sense of the word. it hurts. most of the time i just take it day by day and i am positive about it as there is still so much joy and love and fulfillment in my life. but today even as i type this out on my laptop my arms ache and i am swallowed by the bleakness and isolation of it all. i want to be well. i want to be able to attend my lecture. this is not the plan. none of this was the plan. my whole body hurts constantly. i pass out all the time. i am always overheating or ice cold, always existing in extremes. i have started dislocating more frequently. a lot of my teeth are going to fall out. i've already lost two. i am so tired all the time. no matter how much i sleep. there is so much. it is all so much. i will persist and this wave of grief will wash over me and there will be calm and joy once again despite the pain, until the next wave of grief hits. we have been studying camus' essay on the myth of sisyphus and he says that one must imagine sisyphus happy as he is fated to roll that rock up the hill again and again ad infinitum. i imagine sisyphus grieving. grief and love are the same emotion, grief is just love with no outlet, when there is no space to put it. i imagine sisyphus happy and filled with love but i also imagine him filled with sorrow and grief.

i hope they fix the lift soon.

[philosophical-zelf-enthusiast]

that dark and endless night in february

and a piece of me will always remain

torn to pieces

bleeding in the mud and the dirt

with the cold wet rotting leaves

like my cold wet rotting soul

decaying ever more

on that dark and endless night in february

when you stole not only my innocence

but my future and past

eternally haunted, eternally bleeding

you took the first piece of me

you ate it raw

you robbed me of myself

of my sanity, of my safety, of my capacity to feel

of ever feeling like my body is my own

of ever feeling like i am anywhere else

than bleeding in the mud and the dirt

with the cold wet rotting leaves

like my cold wet rotting soul

decaying ever more

on that dark and endless night in february

i screamed so loud, nobody heard

i was torn in half, nobody protected me

if there is a god i don't know what a 6 year old could have done

to be punished so harshly

to have so much taken

all in the name of corrupt and perverse desire

all in the name of you getting your dick wet

wet with my blood, wet with my purity

now sodden and full of sin

full of horrors and stuck enduring

bleeding in the mud and the dirt

with the cold wet rotting leaves

like my cold wet rotting soul

decaying ever more

on that dark and endless night in february