Unsent Letters, December 2007

oh, just go away.

Here it is the truth.
No one picked me up but me.
No one fixes you if you say no. No one fixes you if you say yes.
It just happens you just have to make it happen.
I'm finding that i really don't know anything, that I have to go back and re-read all the books. That I remember everything but it's so jumbled. There are big holes. Sometimes I say things and they are just wrong. But I can't tell because for years I've just been taking this stuff in and just shoving it in there, like, thinking that that was going to be okay. Like I would remember your name AND your face, together at the same time. It's like I have Alzheimers now. Like, sometimes it's just blackness and sometimes it's still 1941. Sometimes my sentences have all the correct words but none of the correct syntax.
Dear Miss D, I'm wondering if you have found the same thing.
People say when you stop, you go directly back to where you started. Which i guess is true, but I was never there. I was a child, and I have all the experience now. I say, "when I was doing xxx" and people look at me like, how old are you really?
Have I aged? I look the same. Less sallow. Plumped up. Not so grey, less smeared make up. Doesn't cry violently but it seeps out now. Like, I'm leaking.
Miss D do you find it all leaks out?
I take dayquill and it hurts. I eat too much sugar and it hurts. I get the shakes, the fear.
Like, if I go back I'll die for sure.
It's an erasing time. It's the reckoning.
This next year will be all apologies. Like, everything I can do now is an apology. Like, they will follow me around forever.
So, I'm sorry.
These are my own twelve steps, with 10 removed.
1)There is a problem. It is mine and not yours.
2)I'm very, very sorry.
1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,