I don't know what is wrong with me...

I really don't.
But, all day today (well, actually yesterday), I've felt it.
Only thing is, all I know about what "it" is, is the component parts.
I know what the bits and pieces are that I'm feeling, but I don't know why I feel this way at all.

I did go to sleep for a while.
Staggered to bed around 8pm and just got up a while go (around 1/1:30am), coughing.

And, what I felt earlier was right there, waiting.

I'm almost ashamed to say what it is I'm feeling, because some really cool shit has happened the last coupla days.
Been talking to my Dad.
Been talking to another utterly special person who gave me such a gift...

I have no buisness feelin' so bad.

But, goddamn it, I do....

I cannot stop crying.

Last time I felt such an overwhelming sense of loss and this alone, I found out the next day that Andy Harris had been killed by an Olde Dominion truck driver who must have been blind to have passed all those signs, including a stop sign, and plowed through that intersection, wedging Andy's pickup right in front of the tires on the trailer he was hauling and draggin' Andy sideways down the road for a quarter mile.

I'll never forget that whole episode...
I was sitting in my apartment, on the couch, channel surfing.
Tony was in the bedroom, also watching TV.
I cruised by the local information channel which showed ads for community happenings and played music in the background.

The song that stopped me was "Endless Love".
I thought I was impervious to that song, they played it so much when it was popular and it was old by then, anyway.
Never bothered me before... once I got used to it, anyway.

But, that night... it stopped me cold and I just fell apart.

It was like I was two people at the same time.
One bawling her head off and the other sitting there asking, "What da fucks wrong with you? Whatcha cryin' so hard about? This stupid song? What?"

I was heartbroken over God only knew what (but I was about to find out) and, at the same time, surprised by the ferocity of the feelings.
I may not have known what they were about (yet), but they were real.
And harsh.
Just like now...

I didn't go to Tony for comfort.
I don't remember exactly why... suffice it to say I knew it wouldn't be there.
But, he did come wandering out and asked me what was wrong and when I didn't know, he just shrugged and went on.

Went to work the next day.
Was working the night shift at the county 911 center.
Next morning, before the end of the shift, I went out and got the newspapers outta the driveway.
I unfurled one and when I saw the banner headline... about Andy's death... I damned near dropped right there in the driveway.

A few hours/days/eons? later, I remembered freaking out the night before and knew then what it had been about.

The hardest part was when it hit me that just about the same time I was losing it that night, Andy was being killed.
Around 9:30pm...

Ever since then, when I get like this, I hate it.
Not that I'm saying "die first, then I'll freak so I can know why I'm freaking.."

I just hate the enormity of these feelings.

And, I feel the same ones now that I did that night...

Loss, tremendous loss.
Alone-ness.
Fear.
Heartache.
I feel like I've got nobody to ask for a hug.
Nobody to understand this.
Nobody to just hold me and let me hide for while.
And, I don't know what I need to hide from, either...

I just do.
Just for a little while.
Can't somebody else handle shit?

What shit, though?
I wish I knew...

This started earlier today.
(Aagin... yesterday, really...)

I was sitting here, listening to Def Leppard on the headphones and snagging up Rob's lost archives left and right.

Eric was sitting in here, too, but for as much as I could feel him, I may as well not even know who he is.
It was like he's just this guy who lives here.
This guy who doesn't particularly give a shit about me one way or another.

I was trying to concentrate on what I was doing on here and he was watching a movie.
That's why I had the headphones on.
To block out "Crossroads", that blues movie.
See, Stevie Ray Vaughan kinda wrecked me for any blues style but his own.
When you learn about the blues listening to the way SRV played 'em, not even the original blues masters sound half as good when ya hear 'em.
I don't know why that is, but the original guys, the ones whose songs SRV covered, they sound cheap, tinny and nowhere near as soulful and rich as Stevie Ray does.
Maybe that's just me but that's the way it is... for me.

So, gim'me my Def Leppard.

Ah, yes... DefLep.
The guys who make me feel 20 years younger.
The band that makes me drive like Richard Petty.
The band with balls.
The music that rocks my soul in the way God intended.
The music that there ain't no way to feel bad while ya hear it.

Except... I kinda did feel bad a few times.

It was the music as opposed to the lyrics, but it was getting to me.

I'm sitting here having a blast finding and blogrolling alla those "lost" archives but I kept tearing up, too.

"Two Steps Behind" was fuckin' me up.
But, not all of the lyrics are something I'd want to say to Rob, so I thought that wasn't it.
Some of those words to that song, yeah... I will always be just two steps behind Rob in some manner.
And, maybe somewhere inside me, I do feel like it would have only taken a minute of his time to turn around and see that, but I also seriously doubt it would have done him much good.
I'm not Jennifer.

Then, the music of "When Love and Hate Collide" was gettin' to me, too.
As was the music, and some of the lyrics of, "Miss You in a Heartbeat".

None of the lyrics of either of songs stand out, so I'm thinking it was just the music that was getting to me.

Power ballads, man.
They'll rip your heart right out.

Like, for instance, "I Know What Love Is" is playing in my head right now and I do, I do wanna know, or remember, what love is. I need to feel that again, damn it.
But, I don't know where to turn for it.
It's another one of those things I feel like I shouldn't bother Eric about.
He's so not interested anymore....

Hey God...
Ya know what?
Either help me here, or kill me now.
I can't take this anymore...
Please.
me

*coupla minutes and a lit cigarette later*

Goddamn.
This shit hurts so bad... you should be able to die from pain like this just so ya don't have to feel it, ya know?
And, it's at least doubly frustrating not to know where it's coming from.

I swear to God, I don't feel, and can't think of, anybody to go to with this.

I didn't feel like Eric would be interested when he was awake, so I'm certainly not gonna bother him now.

George... I just don't feel that kinda connection to. He's my brother these days.
Not someone you go to with stuff like this.

I've tried calling Paul.
A coupla times.
And, the stone silence is not helping.
In fact, with my head the way it is right now, it's really easy to envision all sorts of shit about that, none of it good, most of it having to do with him wishing I'd fuck off already and not even wanting to talk to me long enough to tell me that.
I kinda know that's crap, but I also kinda can't help but wonder, too.

And yeah, Rob's gone, too, so there'll be no distracting myself at Gut Rumbles, but Christ, man... I've been hip deep in his words all day, anyway.

And, some of that's making me cry, too.

I just followed a link of his over to Dean Esmay's place from 2004.
I wound up in a heap again because the post was about Dean having to put a dog to sleep.
That's the second time I've lost it over Buttons' death.
I did the same damned thing when that was originally published.
Even thinking about "Rainbow Bridge"... make that "typing the words 'Rainbow Bridge'", sends me back over the edge.

Loss.
Lonliness.

That's all there is in this fucking world right now.

WHY?

I mean, I know I'm not alone.
Other people live here.
My Dad might be at work.
But, for some perverse reason, that doesn't seem to matter to my heart right now.

All it feels are the ones who aren't here.
Or, feel like they're not.
Chief among them is Eric, closely followed by Paul.

Rob's here.
Rob's all over place here.

In front of my eyes, next to me on the DVD cover, in my computer in more places than I even am anymore... so this isn't his fault.

I almost believe that Rob is here now more than he was before because his spirit can be.
He can be anywhere he wants to be now.
Wherever he's needed.
And, in more than one place at a time.

So, that's not it.

Let's list what's NOT wrong...
The house is clean.
The checks have cleared.
Nobody is ailing.
Nobody is dying.
All my animals are fine.

What is wrong that might possibly have any bearing whatsoever on any of this is:
I'm tired.
My cold has doubled back on me.
And, aside from the "Oh shit, who's gonna clean the house now, how do we get the to the bank account", and "Oh damn!, this is inconvienient", I feel like it wouldn't matter to anybody if I just went off somewhere and died.

And, to be absolutely blunt, if the only alternative is sitting here feeling like this, I wish I could.

I'm gonna go to Sheetz in a while and get Eric's Copenhagen.
Maybe I'll get squashed by a truck too, like Andy did, on Rt. 15.
Who'd give a damn, really?

Ya know, not even the things like that, the procuring of Eric's "goodies", brings the love from him it used to.
Now it's just expected, I guess.

All that shit I've been doing all this time has come to nothing, now.

It's only noticed when it's not done.

He used to love me so much, too.
He wrote me letters, sent me e-cards, hugged me all the time, gave me kisses constantly, told me he loved 50 million times a day...
When he says it now, it sounds like a substitue for "See ya later", or "Bye, gotta go now" or "shut up".

It sounds like a habit and not much more.
And, a habit you'd wanna break, at that.

Which makes my mind say, "Yeah. Bet he does. Just like Paul wants to. And George, and even your Dad, did."

Hmm. Guess perusing my own archives looking for the last two posts didn't exactly help me much....

I just talked to Dad last night.
Why NOW is the loss associated with him all that I can feel?

And, there's my stupid real brother.
Guess he meant it even more than I knew when he said he was gonna miss having a big sister at Adrienne's funeral.
Not even a phone call yet.
Nothing.
I honest to God believe it woulda been better if it had been me that died on June 19th of last year.
Or any goddamned day since.

Oh God... what in the hell is wrong with me?

Do you know, whomever "you" may be, that Eric doesn't even read Xfire anymore?
He used to.
And, I wonder if watching Rob's DVD right now would help, or make me wanna follow through on the "death" thing?

I am so sick and tired of my life.
I always wind up back here, in this freezing cold, lonely hell no matter what road I choose.
I always wind up simultaneously missing and envying the people I've lost to death because they're out of it, now.
It can't hurt them anymore.

And, I want that, too.

I just want to not hafta hurt.
And, not have to feel so all alone.

All I can think of is that I'd be able to talk to Rob, hang out with Jim Morrison maybe, or hug Andy again.
I could meet Stevie Ray, hear my Uncle Henry's voice again, see my Pop-pop Vanaman and I wouldn't be a burden on anybody around here for anything anymore.
I wouldn't have to sit here and wish somebody wouldn't mind holding me for a while.

And, if this is all hormonal, I swear to God, I'm gonna rip my ovaries out with my bare hands.

But, that's the last thing this feels like.
Besides, it's not time for that yet and it's changed lately and I don't seem to have all the attendant horseshit happening now days.
Just "that" itself and that's only IF it comes at all.
(It did skip a month this summer. Hope it skips lots more, real soon. Like... ALL of them, every single month of the rest of my stupid, useless and hateful life.)

*about 15 minutes later*

Well, that was fun. Not.

I was sitting here "preveiwing" this entry when I heard Eric come down to go to work.

I never have been one to postpone bad news. I learned early that you can't avoid it and ya might just as well bite the bullet, drink the poison from the cup... pick you perjorative... and get it over with.

So, after the usual "Hi's and hello's", I flat out asked Eric, as I dissolved into tears again, if he's still in love with me as much as he used to be.

"Used to be?", he says...
"Well, God yes..."

Then, he asked me why I was crying and sounded annoyed when he did, and I said a buncha other all-tangled-the-fuck-up stuff but made sure to tell him I don't blame him as much as I do myself for the way I feel or that his love may not be what it used to be for me, I don't expect him to be able to "fix" it right this second, that he needs to read this post and keep in mind that I'm in trouble here and, basically, begging for help that he can give me.
That I don't "need help", as in a psychiatrist, or drugs or any of that shit.
I just need to know if he still loves me like he used to.
And, so on.

Then, he started acting even more annoyed and did that "beaten dog, hanging his head, faking acceptance of his shit-life like I'm his ex" thing he so often does and then said that his biggest problem with me is that he thinks I don't want him to have to go to work and that my timing with this kinda stuff is monumentally horrific and that he even thinks I do this on purpose.

SO... while it was helping at first, that part almost didn't, but...

*about an hour and half later*

Okay.
The storm inside of me seems to abated quite a bit.

George came down shortly after Eric went out and, since it wasn't so intense in me anymore, I was able to get more or the "surface" shit outta me.
I had a general kinda "I'm fucked up right now, but not as like I usually am in that there's no violence wanting to come out, no rage this time, so what the hell is this?" conversation about my inner-tornado with him.

Started out asking him what he thought might be wrong with me, went into Austrialia, of all things, for a while, moved onto his Bosses pending stroke if he can't sell the cabin they refurbished soon, back to my shit and around and around for while.

That's when I realized another HUGE thing that I've been surpressing may have something to do with this.

For a whole year, we were all safe here.
Now, the evil cunt in New Jersey could very easily know where we are.
That asshole, Mike, who was here (and would NOT LEAVE), used to be her boyfriend (at least that's how she saw it, I'm sure) and, in keeping with her typical horseshit, she kept HIS shit when he ran screaming.

He (Mike) knows full well how to get here and he also wants his shit back, so what if he trades his shit for information or driving directions to this house to her?
Fuckall man, she already made it known she wanted to come here this past weekend "for her birth hatchday" and to "see her son" who wishes she'd just FOAD (fuck off and die).
Believe me, we put a stop to that shit.

I added the local State Police Barracks phone number to my cell phone, we told the Boss about it and then, George called her to warn her offa the idea.

Still... I think that bullshit, plus the whole "Mike" thing had more of an impact on me than I was giving it credit for.

My sense of security has not only been breached, it's been blown to hell, goddamn her. And, Mike, that dick,
Man, I do dearly wish and cannot wait for the day she drops dead of her own evilness.
Fuckin' bitch.

Anyway, while I know if she comes here, she's fucked six ways from Sunday, she'd still be here AT ALL in order for that to happen, ya know?

However, I'd rather have her here than that fuckhole Mike.

Anyway, before I get myself all worked up again...

I do have things I need to figure out.
I still want to know where this storm blew in from.
And, I'd like to know how to keep it from happening again as much as possible.
I still need to know that it matters, really MATTERS, that I'm not dead yet and that somebody does really love me.
Not everybody, just one person.
I need to know that I'm not just an either nagging or voiceless pain in the ass and that not everything I do causes irritation and that just maybe, what I do and try to do is good and helps and... matters.
I guess what I need to know most of all is that I matter.
Even just a little bit.

And, it would really be nice if Def Leppard would quit singing "Two Steps Behind" in my head....
(That's all the fuck I can hear right now...)

And, I'm dressed and getting ready to go get the Copenhagen and I also hafta stop at the Giant and get catfood and lunch meat.

While I'm there, I'm also gonna grab myself something good, yet as non-ass-forming as possible to eat (I'm starving now, which is a huge improvement over feeling despondant, lem'me tell ya), then I'm coming home, eating whatever I get and going the hell back to bed.

I am exhausted.
(Unfortunately, I'm not the kinda "tired" that sleeping will cure completely, but... it's a start and a temporary escape. AND, it's legal. *wry grin, which is better than no grin at all*)

To whomever reads this whole thing (and doesn't call the men in white coats)...
Thank you.
If you have any ideas, feel free to clue me in, okay?

Rob... I miss you a LOT and love you even more than that.

Eric... remember what I told you. I'm not blaming you for any of this, but I am trying to reach out to you for help, among other things, and if you do still have it in you, if I haven't killed it for ya, please help me. Love me as best you can and let me feel you again, okay?
I need you, Dude.
A lot.
I just hope to God not "too much".

Now, I'm gonna run you out a cuppa coffee to the parlor, see if there's anything you want from Giant and go.

And, if I'm asleep after you read this and you wanna come see me anyway, please do, okay?

I love you, ya know.
Way more than it seems like.
Almost more than I can handle, I guess...

Peace y'all...
(Hope I find some soon, too...)

Posted by: Stevie at 06:24 AM

Comments

Posted by: vizsladog3 at October 23, 2006 10:58 AM (4qWsH)

Posted by: Stevie at October 23, 2006 11:21 AM (kL4Gm)

Posted by: vizsladog3 at October 23, 2006 12:16 PM (4qWsH)

Posted by: Catfish at October 23, 2006 03:49 PM (zi1GA)

Posted by: Deb at October 23, 2006 05:13 PM (6BsxH)

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