there will be...

hold up hold up while i sort out my mind.

i must suppress this female tendency to subdue the gory, and speak for what it is,
(perhaps to feminize the honest rot will make it appear more pleasant, tolerable)

.....................................................

the doctor of brains tells me he does not know how it is;
can i capture it how it is, can i say it how it is?
when all else fails but for the tears, he says. be a student. that comes first, right now.
i protest. but i am also a daughter!

you will always be a daughter.
(you are a student first)
it is this capitalism that they inject in my bloodstream, coursing like poison, but also the antidote to the grief at home.

things have settled down in a plastic,contained sort of way. bound in strips of clingfilm and social gatherings; we are a-okay.
..........................................................

my brain twirls gently between throbbing membranes, interlocking
spider veins, steely tendrils to hold
it in place.
my face
an empty spot
between the faces of others in photographs,
the blank space i wish i could fill,
but cannot erase.

i look at ghost albums displayed
frivolously
at my windowsill.
still moments of shock, surprise, shared
passion,
i will never feel.
locked, Pandora's box, my
heart,
concealed.

..............................................................

and just like that, the words that were tumbling over each other in my mouth to rush forward onto the keyboard and stain it greyblackblue; silence and disappear.

i want to thank Gunther, u've been there since the very start, and ur message meant the world to me. i think i'm too much of a coward to actually ever run, but ur offer was sincere, and truly touching. thank u.

-eeda

for all the words of comfort, thank you.

i've been on a reading binge lately... somehow getting lost in something infinitely vast in your imagination is more satisfying than the reality im immersed in right now. i construct war zones and romantic interludes at the back of my eyes, in the corner in the dark where no light from my present can reach. it is enough for a distraction, gets me out of the here and now.

the doctor is surprised at how im holding up, tells me to move out, i say that is not a possibility.

reflections are always such a tedious task, perhaps that is why i've been reading too. i use borrowed words to reconstruct what i feel or what i want to feel, and substitute with how i am feeling..the borrowed emotions are less tedious and less draining, and that is only how i manage to go on.





20 Jan 2010. Disaster Risk Managment class.
(how ironic?..or perhaps, very astute)


How could i begin to weave the fleshy strips of my narrative, the internal monologue constantly repeating my story to myself..to spew out of a hollow dry mouth, hoping the inky strains on paper can covey some small part of the stories through which we live.


at what point do we being to unravel the story from our own, the completely aloof fictitiuos tale from reality...transcribed out of pure boredon, burst of litereary vomit or distracted musings carefully crafted to sit on the sidelines, (but never a reflection of soul, never)


,...................

If i could write a story, it too would be about maps. 

-eeda