Photo Glass

I am here and I have touched the marble and it is everything that I have imagined and more and I feel myself gripped in pain on the inside and weeping, weeping! With joy, altogether, and angered too that it is all dead.

My eyes can not work hard enough and my heart feels such weight that it will sink into oblivion, but most of all, there is this burning, burning helplessness that I can't even describe in thought, let alone in words.

I had to draw on the other page because there were no photos allowed in that room, but that one room where I saw it filled. I saw it. I KNOW that I saw it then. It wasn't imagination or hallucination or anything. I saw it in memory. Recollection and then I really started to cry. I don't want any of that anymore. I tried to vomit it away last night with Baltika 6 (which I still feel sick from , by the way).

But they're all dead. All of it is dead.

And being here is like a sick joke I decided to play on myself. It's like asking a severely depressed person if they're okay and then laughing about it. Being here and all of this is really mentally trying and part of me wants to run away to as far from here as I can.

But then I remember-- that's where I live, where my life rests. And so, even sitting here, I am as far from it as I ever way and as near to it as I'll ever get.

But when I passed the window (with their Dorian drapes) and looked out onto Palace Square, I was sure that this was a photo... The sky hung still in absolute white and lacked all dimension. And its colors were gently washed and faded and I had seen that photo one thousand times. And now I was seeing it again, only life sized and next to it, but somehow my face was still desperately pressed against eh glass and I imagined what would happen if I clawed at the window and chewed on the glass.

And I saw my nails torn and my fingers bloody and my heart beat faster and faster, echoing off the wooden floor and then I saw a bus and snapped and pulled myself away and cried some more...

I don't' know ow I ever let myself get this crazy or if anyone will ever understand just how crazy I really am. But I SEE things... I see them and they drown me... There is no choice here. It is just one sick game.

And I always dig and drag myself closer and closer to a place that I'll never get... And I buy and I cry and I know that it's futile, but I can't stop...

It's like, if you've been walking up a staircase for infinity and you know you can not go down, but only up, and you also know that when you reach the top you'll be home. Not at your house, but HOME in your heart, but you also know that each step you take adds another stair to the case and you'll never get to the top... EVER!!! Could you stop and build a house on the landing?

I can't. And it makes me want to die.