Someone recently said that I have my own demons to deal with and she was pretty close. But it boils down to one demon. Catnip. The same one I have been dealing with for 8 years or so.
Other than that I’m pretty good, but Catnip is a complex problem.
I can sum it up with a verse from Emily Dickinson. I think this is from the poem numbered 34 since she did not title any of her poems.
And were you – saved-
And I – condemned to be
Where You were not –
That self – were Hell to me
It has only been a week and a half since she asked me to give her some room to heal but it seems like forever. I hate times Guts. The way it drags and mopes along when I am sad and Gallops and streaks when I am happy.
Every day I wonder, “Should I call her today?
Has this been long enough?
Has it been to long?
I hesitate to even put my feeling here because I am so fucked up I would just look like a crazy man. Every day would be the same. Me sad wondering how she is.
So Im going to post a poem instead.
The Poem “The Letters” is about me! And how screwed up I am .
I am Sharon