Tuesday, August 19, 2008

banksy graffiti & street artforum . cans festival 2008 .

Monday, August 18, 2008

I can’t believe in so many things, faith…I must, no more pixie dust. What is it faith and trust. Oh yes. Speeches and sermons, about with comfort and forgiveness and they have no hold, no lasting condition to change the world. Because we do not listen. Because we are not meek. It is weakness that we fear, when the meek are to inherit the earth. I am weak and envious. Envious all the more so of things that I do not possess any longer. Trust, patience, understanding, not in this order, randomly placed words that hold nothing except to the author. I do not want to proceed. I want to wallow and dissolve. But this, I cannot. Because he would not want it to be so. This i have to remember, but it seems so shallow a thing as mourning. Because he is saved, and I am the worrier of my life, of four little girls, again all alone. So selfish an idea of living my life without him. Of not having or seeing or touching or hugging or holding…or holding. My entire life without holding. How has this come to be expected of me. How can I. I cannot. I do not want to be strong. Not for anything. I have never wanted to be strong. And this again is on me, like an evil demon to torture my already rotting soul. But not rotted as I had thought it was, for it was perfectly content, but in my narrow selfish ways, I chose to be tortured, allowing what was fostered to rot away and fall off dead, again, leaving me hallow and then complain to the world that I had been robbed of any goodness.

...is starving, sickened, desperate. Restless. Sick. The sickness seeps in. no, it’s floods, unlike anything else. Nothing I’ve ever lived through. And I’ve lived through everything else, can help me. Can prepare one. Can release one. Can allow something to premiere as happiness. It’s sickness. And persevered drowning of the soul. My life and heart and spirit have been sucked out of my body. I laugh, because I forget, I forgot that it has actually occurred. Not because I cannot believe it. I cannot believe it. But because I cannot live with it having happened. I cannot. He is my harbor, my safety. My boy. He has always loved me, his entire life, he never asked or expected or needed anything. He gave everything of him, and he always loved me. Do you know how that feels, to have someone love you, unconditionally forever. Forever. And then they leave. They are taken. And you can’t dare to breathe or to be strong. Because you feel as if the life was sucked from your bones. But you are suffered to live still. And there is life that still needs you, and you have no idea how you are going to live it alone. How are you going to live it alone. And what happens the day that your youngest daughter doesn’t remember Ryan. What happens. When.