Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

I buy my own gold stars.

I must have been a pretty cool little kid.
I mean, to be as awesome as I am now, I must have had to have been.
That's not ostentatious, or humble.
It just is.
To survive what I survived and to come out mostly? Partially? intact is pretty fucking WOO! on my part.
I reward my own points and I buy my own gold stars.


All of the stubborn and obnoxious and strong and brave and ornery, is now working again.  But in good, different, full force ways.  Not survival ways anymore, fix and win it ways.


I dug up an old picture of that pretty cool little kid.
And looked at her face.  And her skin.  And her hands.  And her crooked feet.  And her tummy.  And her almost smile.  And her curly hair.  And her shoulders.  And the puppy on her lap.
I wish I could have known her.
I wish I could write her a different story.
I feel a physical need to grab that girl from the photo and rush her off to somewhere safe.


But she still isn't me.
I'm aware of her pain.
I can't feel it.
I can't feel her.
I don't know her.
And I really don't think I want to.
Because it isn't a grab bag.
I feel so sad for her.
Can't yet feel that for me, or connect her to me.
I know whats there and what that means.

I'd rather have my physical parts dissected, than my mental parts any further.
The mental just hurts so much worse.
If I could choose a couple body parts to be chopped off instead, I totally would.  Physical pain has an end and relief. 
This mental brain pain never stops.


I just need some peace.  For me.  For that cool little girl.

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