Hey there, Psyche. Damn, I know it’s been forever
Decades passed in silence, then only a shitty letter
Though they say an asshole never really recovers
This ass hopes you found far better friends and lovers
Whisky brown hair, brilliant smile, the fairest blue eyes
Sharper and brighter than all the stars in Southern skies
Just one second, this ain't one of them pining love songs
More a long-waiting tattered lists of souls I’ve done wrong
One bad night, drunkenly convinced I’d been strung along
I became another toxic creep, another entitled hard-on
Flashes of trembling hands, tears took up shop in my head
But I blacked out enough to not remember what all I said
When really you needed a best friend, not a jealous loser
Instead, I walked away, wanting only to not exist to you
It’s been years since then, paid in therapy reckonings
Took a while to learn, romance starts by looking within
But still, what’s worse, digging up the past or living lies
What hurts, late-offered amends or broken goodbyes
For a victim, how long makes it too late to apologize?
Male-privileged obsession is just intimidation in disguise
So, years later, here’s the truth that only matters now
The important thing I hope I one day get to say to you
If allowed, I have random chance and courage to do
Psyche, you deserved better than I ever gave to you
My selfish words and actions burned our bridges
There aren’t any good reasons you should forgive
’Sides, justifying turns into gaslighting before long
I’ll move along, just sorry that I hurt you. I was wrong
3.30.20 - #corona2020 V
Is there anyone sleeping well anymore?
Either the brain is rolling a thousand miles
An hour, in the haunted still of night
Or the walls are too tight and we’re desperate for daylight
I don’t remember the last time I laid my head down
And felt rested the next morning, renewed
We’re sitting on our hands, trying to pass the time
Reflecting on all our mistakes, all the lies
It’s been hard to be productive. I’ve gotten the job done, now thankful that I have a steady income when one out of five has filed for unemployment, including J. Trying to do yoga in the sunroom followed by elliptical bands and the recumbent bike lying in the garage, just to move a little during the week. Hoping I can find a bit of drive to really edit GR and work on the Robyn story. Need something to do, to feel useful.
J seems to have gotten L to a place where she’s a little more stable. We’re still a long way from out of the woods yet, but every day is a won day. Even when the world outside is falling into a recession unlike anything ever seen in modern history, due to a viral pandemic and a political narrative out of a Michael Chrichton novel. D is coughing less, thankfully we don’t think anyone has COVID but since there’s still not a real chance of us getting tested in our current condition, we’re just riding out the storm.
Thankful for little moments, like D winning at Cards Against Humanity. Chasing Janeway in the backyard. Playing Diablo with J at three in the morning, dancing in the living room during dinner.
3.16.20 - #corona2020 II
I realized, only recently, how poorly I do with internal anxiety
There’s a train, running away, in my head sometimes
If I try, stay busy, maybe the brakes may recover before
I reach the end of the bridge, the end of the world
First full real day of what seems like a real, new normal. Not that we would go out if we could, ‘cause we can’t afford it, but because this illness is a bad rollercoaster ride. We’re not sure if J and D have it, since there weren’t testing kits last week. They’re supposed to call the Georgia Board of Health or something, go through a questionnaire, to even qualify for a test. Right now we’re operating under a 14-day quarantine diagnosed as pneumonia for J, and a 5-day quarantine diagnosed as bronchitis for D. I feel fine, but there’s a tension in the air. We’re faced with the added anxieties of having nothing better to do than reflect on our own past terrors and nightmares. While we wait on referrals for therapists to work through the overloaded for-profit under-prepared American Health Care nightmare, the news outside gets worse and the future darkens a little.
So I went to the gym anyway. I need something besides working my way through the feedback notes on Gravity’s Reach in preparation for a May Writer’s Conference that likely could be cancelled. I’ve been working on the Robin Hood homage, and that’s been more fun. I also have to check grades, put together plans for next week (both planning for online or in-class delivery), and take care of three hurting people.
”We’re broken, but we’re not damaged goods.”
”We do the best we can.”
At least one thing I can pull, a few moments with the dog in the backyard watching her play before she spent hours by my side while I wrote.
That’s the career I want, where I can spend my days giving head scratches while writing the next story.
