Busy Email Day

Binsk sent me THIS today.

Thanks:)

My head. My heart. My spirit. My song. My days and nights, and all things in-between, ache. The confusion of being; the simple not so simple. The rational into chaos goes. I am lying here what the hell I am doing.
I know and I don't know all in the same second. I want and I don't want in the same moment. I need and I want and I desire everything around me. I want everything and I cannot have it, WE cannot have it.
The silence slices through me like piano wire. I am apart, on this bed, apart. I see all of me laid out; guts and hearts and yesterday's breakfast.
Splayed. Splayed.
You can look up here, bend your head back until you tip over, and see nothing but twinkling stars. They made me cry the other night. Looking up and seeing them all and wondering where I fit in among them. Where do I fit in? You can be 37 and still not know. You can have the world's greatest job, be famous, have a few dollars in the bank and still not know a thing.

You can still be on the outside of everything good and normal. I am not good. I am not good at all. I can do things. I can create chaos in a sentence.
I can hurt people that I love in a single gesture. I feel hell bound. When you are caught on barbed wire, between euphoria and defeat, between pleasure and pain, between breathing and suffocation, you cannot sleep…trust me. Under all these stars, that I don't recognize.
No big dipper...No Orion...these are not my stars.Funny what home is. What it means in your heart and in your head.
Funny how home makes you yearn for who you were. I am changing, metamorphosis taking over my brain. I am trying to get back to myself. I am tangled up in so many words; words that I need, words that I want, words that change the "I" of "ME."
You don't know what you need until someone gives it to you. I have learned that. You don't know until someone hands you this gift and says, "This is yours. You so deserve it".
And you want more and more and more. You wonder how you ever did without. You do.

I am so sorry and so blessed and so troubled and so blissful and so scared about it all. I have never been so scared about what my future is. I am so tired. If I think one more thing, I may just evaporate. It's pulling me into old age. It's pulling me into gardening and muumuus and cheap port.
How can a person really convince another person that they are sorry? Sorry for every single thing they've ever done? How do you get back to yourself? How? Do you ever? Must you endlessly go forward? I don't know. Forgiveness seems so far away from me right now. All I see is the agony that I have caused. All I see is an old photograph of someone I knew, and it's me. Tomorrow is hours away and I, in the meantime, am trying to think one single clear thought.