Sunday Flurries

Why does my body feel as if it's being thrown forward? A constant upward pulling tug from my chest up towards the bright white ceiling. My mind is acceptably empty. The outside world is constantly infiltrating, voices from the TV, rumbles from the subway tracks, the eye movements of R as he looks over his phone.

I'm seeing my new therapist tomorrow, since she thinks it's best that I see her 3 times a week, as opposed to once a week as I expected. I feel a bit more confident and comfortable in my own skin, since I've started. Perhaps my thoughts had been weighing me down all this time, without me realizing the true impact it was having on me. The relief after seeing her, that I got out of the apartment and am working on myself, is so uplifting that it's all worth it. I can feel my personality swelling within my skin and increasing each day a little more. It's funny, I have found that without some kind of chaos in my life, I usually go a bit nuts. I need it to some extent, the danger and shame keep me occupied. But I'm not totally sure if that's true, or if I tell myself that because it doesn't sound so bad as admitting defeat.

My stomach aches now, and the room wraps around me like an electric blanket left on too long. Eyes heavy, Subhumans proclaim "drugs of youth, give me a thrill, give me a headache" as they shut I feel joy surge up through my neck and head. Sunday is not so bad, I guess.

The arthritis in my knees is horrible right now. The season change, and being out of a major medicine, has caused my right knee to barely bend past a 90 degree angle (as opposed to a normal leg, which should be able to make a more acute angle (smaller)). It's the pressure in the air that does it, exerting it's mostly unnoticed energy against my joints. Every step grinds my joints, my body silently screams for relief treading block after block. Sometimes it feels like I'm dragging my body along behind me, weighing me down and tripping up my most simple steps. The crisp gusts of wind which hit today, only exacerbated this sense, and I became so tired and frustrated all I wanted was to return home. At least now I am pain free with my legs kicked out in front of me on our ottoman adorned with a cover I crocheted.

I had an interesting run in on Friday night. My friends and I were out walking about downtown, drinking 22s out of a McDonalds cup and buzzed on tea. At one point we ended up in Tompkins, we positioned ourselves near the dog park at first to see the dogs, and then because it was a fairly unpopulated area (not wanting to have a run in with the cops, fuck that). I hadn't drank outside in ages, or to any real extent in a while, and by the time we were done with all of the beers I was sufficiently fucked up. I could barley keep myself walking along a straight path, with the tea and the beer hitting me strong, when we would get up for them to go find bathrooms. We sat on the bench and reminisced about old friends, the appearance of that new Russian heroin-like shit that rots your skin, people to avoid, other topics of various subjects as well.

"Hey, how are you'all doing tonight?"

A man and a woman approached in the dark with one of the plastic bag lined carts. I immediately realized they were here to provide us with food, thinking we were homeless crusties (my friends are crusties, but aren't homeless). We all said our own version "okay..."

"Would you like any condoms, hygiene products, clean needles?"

They piped up that yeah, we'll take some condoms, you can just leave us that whole garbage bag My had lept at the words 'clean needles' and was now embarrassed into silence. 'Just to have them, I reasoned, in case I want to iv something, but I don't want to admit that in front of themmmm....' It is an ugly thing when you're fixated on the method of ingestion as opposed to the drugs themselves. As all of this runs through my mind, my friend says "No needles, I'm two years clean!" They both fist bump him, and my embarassment spreads through me at my own thoughts. My own crazyassmotherfucking thoughts that shouldn't be thought by anyone, not me never no one.

- Lucy