a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown








my own soul


Only a blank canvas remains of my former self. Something cleared me. What was here is gone. I am naught more than a vacant motel on a lonely highway in the middle of the desert. The tacky fluorescent lights that once lit me up have long burned out, fizzled out slowly.

I have been burned out, evacuated by thick, stifling black smoke, evacuated from my own body, from my own soul. It's like I am somewhere else now.

But slowly I am moving back in. I am finding my way through the endless caves of darkness with only a small candle to guide me. That is me, following a tiny flicker of candle light, a tiny speck of heat and life against the infinite backdrop of nothingness.

No one has grabbed my outstretched hand. No one has answered my prayers. No one has come to save me in my darkest hour, to lend me a shoulder to cry on. I have continued to catch my own bloody tears in the palm of my hand. I have been alone for so long, alone for so very long. And slowly my screaming stream of tears has slowed. The throbbing pain of loneliness that encompassed my body for so long has slowly begun to fade.

The only one who is here for me, is me and for the first time in my life, I think I might be okay with that.


written on 2003-04-11 at 8:52 p.m.

she / lost