(Today I am born again. Today I remember the journey)
Except from my journal: People will probably think I’m crazy. In fact, I think I’m going crazy. I talk to pictures of Steele, laughing with him, smiling with him, crying with him. I kiss his lips through the screen of my laptop. We play a staring game that he always wins. I feel like I could just run away. Mummy keeps pressuring me to go home. If I don’t go home it’s like she doesn’t want to leave. It doesn’t matter to me anymore who stays or goes. It’s all the same I just want to be left alone. I feel like I could just run away and disappear. I could just read and write all day and escape from the rat race and from people.
It’s like if I’m not crying or looking like a bus just rolled over me people are like, ‘oh, she’s having a good day’, or ‘oh, you sound better or good today’. What does that matter? I’m not good and I’m not feeling okay. I just want everyone to go away.
I am not mourning anymore. I am dead. I may not know yet how to bring people back from the dead, but God willing I will be one step closer once I figure out how to bring myself back from the dead. I’d like to be reborn. That will be the grand treasure. So I am beginning my treasure hunt and hopefully I’ll get closer to the answer, and my journey will bring me back. I need 9-months to develop and be reborn.
I saw the shrink this morning. She says I look very sad. She found it interesting that I talked about myself in the past tense. She asked me if I was on any medication. I told her I was not interested in drugs. She said she gets it. I want to own my emotions and take responsibility for them. It’s like right after when mummy and Aunty P were trying to give me sleeping pills. I want to be alert, fully coherent so I can see all the signs.
Mummy wants to know if the shrink was helpful. I asked what’s helpful? She said well what would be helpful. I said a resurrection. She asked of who: me or Steele? I told her both. She said: ‘Well no that’s not possible; we can’t wish for what is not possible.’ She can’t tell me no. She can’t tell me what is possible. I know it’s physiologically possible, Jesus did it. If Steele came back I think I would hold him and lay with him. I would programme the feeling in my head using all of my senses so I could recreate the experience if he had to leave again.
She says I was in his life for a lifetime, but he was only in my life for a season. That’s some shit ehy. I feel like the hawks and vultures are circling me. I’m already dead and now they are going to eat me. I need a distraction; someone is trying to move in on my life. I don’t trust her.
What is helpful? What is good? What is support? What is the yardstick? There is a commercial on TV that says, ‘when you have kids, ‘good morning’ takes on a different meaning’. When you are dead it does too. Is the yardstick tears? Is it sadness? Is it pain? Is it speech? Is it joy? Is it desire? Is it peace? Is it routine? What is good? Who knows?