I thought this would be a regular visit, a cleaning and fillings. However this was no ordinary evening at the dentist. I arrived at 4:30pm and I left at 8:00pm. When I walked out of the dentist chair and turned to walk towards the waiting room, the lights were off in the office and the receptionist looked annoyed that I was so difficult a patient. Little did she know that my roots were crooked (like my mother’s) and it took oral surgery to get an insignificant piece of nerve out without anesthesia.
Last night I felt as though the raw pain of it was symbolic of Roy and I. When the tooth broke because it had decayed and the doctor struggled for an hour and a half to get it out. More Novocain and more shots because I was not expected to take out a wisdom tooth but a molar. “Can I be put to sleep?” They said we don’t offer that here, plus its too late.
The struggle the digging, the noise of the drill, the tugging, he breaking of bone and the blood all made me cry so much as though Roy was this decayed tooth. Roy was the decay in my life I struggled to keep in. I was so ready for the tooth to come out praying every moment in fear in the chair. “Get out of my life you decrepit man!”
And when it did come out, I signed all the paper work to leave. “Are you okay to drive Ms Preston?” The trauma made feel in shock with hot tears raining down my cheeks without a know as to why I felt so defeated, exhausted and beaten. I ran to my truck and cried so hard, sobbed, and then I drove to my job because I couldn’t drive home. My co-worker took me to Walgreens to speak for me because I couldn’t open my mouth.
I waited 40 min in silence in the living room, my second home it seems.
My co-worker offered me the client’s extra medication, but I refused to do that. I took a half lortab while I waited. The mediation my friend had given me for my period that will be here any minute now. So the hormones are flooding in, making tears turn from hot to cold rapidly.
And then I went home, I iced my face, fell asleep and woke up at 2 am with agonizing pain. The pain medication they gave me, made me loopy and emotional, and I cried a lot. So hence the make up this morning. I probably look weird since I never wear makeup. Its my mask of strength. The mask to not let everyone know I physically ripped my ex out of my mouth with knives and needles. That every decayed particle has now been Exorcised from the core of my nerve endings.
To continue with poetry for Valentine’s Day…
Image found at http://www.frasiaforismi.com/citazioni/confesso-che-ho-vissuto-pablo-neruda/attachment/pablo-neruda/
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love you
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
–
Tonight I can write
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, ΄The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.΄
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes?
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that΄s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another΄s. She will be another΄s. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that΄s certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
Poetry
And it was at that age…Poetry arrived in search of me.
I don΄t know,
I don΄t know where it came from, from winter or a river.
I don΄t know how or when,
no, they were not voices,
they were not words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say,
my mouth had no way with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened
and open planets, palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated, riddled with arrows,
fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry void,
likeness, image of mystery,
I felt myself a pure part of the abyss.
I wheeled with the stars;
my heart broke loose on the open sky.
I am finally by myself. Is it isolating if you just want some quiet from the world of judgement and profanity?
Trust- what a delicate word. I do not trust as I used to just a year ago. I can say a person took this from me- or I can perceive this as a gift; Knowledge filled with the questions that never cease.
I hate
Can this be? Hate -I was taught was such a strong word… In defense I just retaliate the hate. So its more of a mirrored emotion that is derived from the heart that used to be full of pain, bliss, naive sex, openings, and induced labored thought.
The mirrors: Some say I am beautiful, crazy, intelligent, worth more than I can see or feel, some mirrors seem to lie.
I can’t see her- She is fading into my past recollections.
Developing a new shade of RED- Blood RED. I love her. Despite her deficits I enjoy the journey to fade.
So I break up with this one guy and there was a mutual closure to the relationship. I explained exactly why I did not think we would work out. (1. he was talking about his ex that was crazy all the time, and 2 he had no real time for me.) Months later he internalizes this break up and says he broke up with me because I was crazy. WTF? Are men so sensitive that they cannot say, it just was not meant to be, and be grown up enough to let the women move on.
Another break up: the man told our gas attendant, where we both got gas from, that I cheated on him. Now it all made sense how “ALL” of his ex-wives were crazy and cheating on him. Seems as though men have a fall safe “she is crazy” or “she cheated on me” to save their precious ego’s. Grow the fuck up and take the tampon out fuckers!
Anticipation of tongue gliding down Oral fixations gathered and satiated Honey dripping Can these sorts of events occur without impulse? The other day, night, moment was a piece of space embraced The days are mounting till a colder day draws closer The day when life floods on you It feels cold as though you are alone When others’ lives become your own perception of life’s hell games Then you have truly begun the spiral of insanity Grasping at healthy hands-saving me I refuse to delve backwards without laughter and amusement at how fucked up things can be At times I am afraid of my own Bitch. To say exactly how I feel or want to fight another When I am in my own domain I become who I want to be I become assertive, masculine, feminine bitch She is not attractive and she may be alone for awhile Tired of being perfect, Tired of being a doormat
I decided to just wing a post because so much has transpired in the last 30 days. I have traveled to another country, I have had 2 important people die in one week span, work has been up and down, and I am staying back home with family during the funeral time. Oh did I mention I am dating in the interim and simultaneously I have to submit a PhD application by – yes Sunday. So stress I laugh at you. Hahahahhaha
The silver lining is today is temporary and almost over. Tomorrow also holds the potential for greatness and when the application is in a small weight of a Ton will be off my trapezoids. I want to blog something intelligent, meaningful or just poetic. Instead I will just end with- “I hope tomorrow will bring a better you and better me…”
Rain 1-13-12 (2012 does still feel better than 2011)
Sky hugs the moon
with a loose grasp
Sensing each others’ entrance and release
She unfolds a new day
Brighter than the dawn, darker than the night
Two equal versions of her love; self-loathing
She can dance, tiptoe around the younger version of her anxious cognitions
The wind sweeps her hair, picks up her spirit with sound
Singing herself to sleep she is one with the immense star in the sky they call Moon
A new day, a new year, another day forward
Recycled ideas bend, fold and flow against the tide of her mind
Livid with anger, frustrated mood- listening to the younger version pour out
Poisons of HER
Its ok, “Just breathe,”
The older version says, “Just breathe and listen to this quiet that can be yours.”
All in perception
“If you perceive this to be quiet it can be yours”
The older version tightly wraps her arms around the young beauty
Understood in one united breath
I have heard people discuss this topic while in relationships, out of relationships, or just being alone.
Where do these definitions lay with the unconscious and the subconscious?
Alone by definition: “(she lived alone, he came to the party alone) by one’s self, on one’s own, solitary, single, solo, unescorted, unaccompanied, partner-less, companionless, by one’s lonesome.”
Lonely by definition: (I felt very alone) Isolated, lonesome, friendless, with no one to turn to, forsaken, abandoned, rejected, unloved, unwanted, outcast. Some associate this with being “sad, depressed or forlorn.”
One could be content by being alone; living alone. This is alone to me and from what I have gathered.
Being lonely is a little more complicated. To be lonely you would have to walk your days without connecting to those around you. You would have no one that calls, and you would call no one. Some do not surround themselves with loving people, or people that you actually can talk to personally, or someone to spend Time with.
Either way our unconscious makes the decision to be alone and if the person is unhappy with being alone, by definition they can become lonely. Some prefer the state of quiet, without others around them…
In a crowned place someone can feel alone or “lonely.” Subconsciously where does this program or belief stem from?
