A few days by

Sometimes you just don't know how to say it

She kills me inside, and its the death I want.  I want to die.  Like I want to be ready for death.  Dead on the inside so that if death suddenly swept me off my feet (or swept my feet off of me), then I could just accept it.  I could embrace it; love death because it will unite me with the rest of my dead self.


Yeah... I don't know how to say it.



So.....................Day
6am: Woke up for Pokemon, ended up defrosting windows for 10 minutes
6:30am: Pokemon.  Best friend times :)
8am: come home, second breakfast, leave for volunteer
8:10am: sign in.  And...  play beach ball with old people.
Then we did crafts until 11am
cleaned up.
11:30am: In-room visits.

In-room visits are what you would image as volunteer work for a nursing home.  You talk to someone.  Go to room 512 (false room number) and talk to patient C.  Patient C is Catholic (had no catholic visits) is alert but has moments of confusion.  They might mention something about career on the page or something else about the patient.  Point is, your job is to give them company.  Its the scariest job I've ever done in my life.

I'm not going to mention everything about these visits.  There were a lot of... depressing...  And these people probably don't want anonymous sympathy.  No... I wouldn't care for it.
I'd want more volunteers like the fool I'm PRETENDING to be.
Somebody... should kill me so I can be this fool that donates his life to everyone else he can.
I want my heart to be broken.



I noticed she was different the moment I saw her.  I'll name her Kork- explained later-.  She looked different from the others, she was so real to me, and her first words to me were "never love a woman because all she will do is break your heart."  Kork is a lesbian over 80 years old. 
She needs to be named Kork because her mouth is foul; she would cuss every sentence if she didn't care for respect.  But she knows that the first time talking to someone you should be polite.  Well, Kork, I look up to you.  You're disease has taken half of your body, and the stupidity of others has caused you extra injuries, but you continue to fight for yourself.  You don't antagonize others even if you don't care whether you flip them a bird for walking by.  You're the kindest person I've met here, kinder than all the nurses.  And you are so real.  Even when you go on a memory trip you mean to do it to tell me the story of your life.  Kork... parts of you will live in this blog even if they are inappropriately named.
She said to me "Before my father died he had me promise: Don't tell your mother."  I thought she was crazy for bringing it up, she hadn't even told me yet.  "So I never told her.  I kept my mouth shut.  I said 'mom, this is my roommate.'  And when her parents came we were together again."  "He said 'I know you're gay, but your mother doesn't know' and you don't know how hard it was but even after the day she died I never told her.  She never knew."  So there it was.  She told me what my first glance said.  This was a gay woman years and years older than anyone else I had known before.  This was someone that lived invisible in the 1950's and fought so hard in the 1960's to be recognized.  She still fights today. 
I told her that I'm going to visit her on the Day of Silence and I'm not going to say a word to her, but I'm going to have a nice long talk with her. 





Going to buy a white board and a dry erase marker.




Today I heard at least 3 people beg me to let them out.  They all said they hate this place.  But I don't know if they realize how scary the rest of the world is.  I mean... some of them do.  July... one of the most capable of all the people there is afraid of the outside world.  She can stand and walk and read and speak coherently always.  But she knows if she were on her own life would be much harder than it is now.  Life is only painful now, but it will always have some degree of pain.
People... just want to be in control of how the pain comes to them.
Something about treating your own wounds causes them to hurt less.
But you aren't a doctor.  You don't know a lot.  Some cases you could accidentally make it worse.





So a few days go by and you wonder whatever became of us.
I still think of you every day.
But I'm sick.
Once I see her...

I'm nonsense.
sorry







stay beautiful