Originally uploaded by jayfherron

Like a junkie trying to toss the rest of the last bag…and the bag sits there in the trash and the trash is far away…outside in the street,and it calls out to you. There is nothing you can do-it calls out your name.
That is what it has been like this past week…
I go through these ‘seasons’ of DAMAGE CONTROL. There is no ‘control’ during this time….and there is no limit to the time,and there is no getting used to the time.
I have just gone through this event and feel sick from it but thankful it went in the direction it did-and not like it has in the past times…and not with as much damage as would have been more destructive as in those past times.
I don’t control anything…they take on another (as in the triquad of me) and that other destroys what is good,especially if it is going good.

It is a crazy kind of a thing. I am also afraid of telephones. I am unable to make certain kinds of calls…and when the thing rings I am afraid to answer it,so-this past week was the assault on my telephones. The cell out of fear of what the last cell experienced – died on its own. That was fortunate and easy to explain to my son (who provides my cell phone) that I did not squeeze it in a vice (this time) or toss it out on the interstate (like once) …it just stopped. That was providence…but then my attack on my home phone was intentional-not exactly thinking what that would mean with the computer…it too was shut down.In truth-I had been shaken about writing,from a deception that was played-a sure toss of trust,and an exact feeling of violation,so I was trying to get away. It won’t work.
Like the junkie with the bag he tossed….this screen and empty shutter of my voice kept calling at me and I’d sit here in front of its blanked out face and wish I never did it.
That is any time I go through ‘damage control’.
They have been worse…bad worse-and I guess that they will never end,but I think they may be changing to where I am not as anxious to go out and try to get hurt…like I did once upon a time.
But I remember-sitting after those times too…and wishing I never did it.
Like the junkie tossing the bag of smack in the trash.

I sat here for the past week and realized I had done something wrong-yet not too sure of the impact and how deep…the tri-quad-of-me darkens the effects of what I am doing,and the real me is so glad to live in the isolation I am in-the woods,and the distance from town(s).
I realized that to write was addictive-not as much as a narcotic,but that it has been the only way my tongue has been freed and my self wants to say as much as it can say…with out the stammer of the fear the listener does not care,and the hurried way I have to speak-to try to assure I am heard.
I know it does not make any sense-it hasn’t to me either.

Tags: ,

3 Responses to “unfinished…”

  1. sousgal Says:

    Welcome back and OH ya you’re being heard 🙂

  2. Charlotte Says:

    welcome back, Jay. I’ve been checking and checking and hoping and hoping to see your return. Charlotte

  3. jayherron Says:

    I am thankful I did not physically harm the computer…I realize I can’t quit!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: