Walking along the sidewalk, with my dog at my side, the wind is blowing, not just a breeze, but blustery winds that blow off hats, and scarves. It is seven in the evening, and the sky is light only by the moon, making it look like a dark blue that is iridescent. The clouds that float around above me and my dog looks as if they are glowing. The moon is only half full, yet there is just the right amount of light, at just the right moment. I veer off the sidewalk, to grassy noel, and I lay on my back. I look at the moon directly above me, while my dog Lay's by my side watching as traffic seems to fly by, and people walking in a seemingly meaningless way, if only to me.
I lay still, I let the wind blow my hair about, and my scarf everywhere but around my neck. I wish at that moment I could be in a remote place, with just myself and my dog. No clothing, no people, just the sky, the wind, my body, my dog, the land I lay upon, surround by everything, and yet nothing. My nakedness against the night sky, and the blustery wind. Staring out into the unknown. Out into the dead, for all those stars are no longer alight. The light that I see from them is millions, if not billions of light years away. Then again not all the stars are dead, but the light I'm seeing is from 80 years ago, when my grandmother was just a child. I wasn't but a star in her eye.
I feel an urge to read about existentialism, about philosophy. I have to put those thoughts out of my head. I have to take all thoughts out of my mind. I sit and I just feel, and my dog is there, watching life, the life of all the others...the life me lying next to her. I put it out of my head...the life of others, the life of me. At that moment I realize I'm coming out of a fog, a fog that I have been living in for two or more years. As I lower my daily Methadone dose, sleeping the day away, and taking a pill every time I feel even the slightest of unpleasantness, so as to cover up my feeling. My literal sense of feeling, not just emotional, but physical.
I keep laying in the same spot, my eyes open to the sky above me, and at that moment I want to feel again. I want to experience that feeling of life again. The feelings of yesterday...when I was being told who I am, where to live, how to live, with whom to live, those feelings are the feelings I want to numb, but unfortunately I cannot have both simutanously.
I close my eyes, and just feel, smell, and taste, and in my mind I picture myself inside a cocoon. That cocoon is warm and safe, I don't want to leave it, and learn to fly, but I am growing to big for this cocoon, and soon my wings will break through this cocoon, and I will have feel emotionally and physically again. The cocoon of methadone.
While on the methadone I have forgotten how much pain I can feel without it, and how much happiness I can feel without it. While on Methadone I could not appreciate the feeling that an injection of Heroin can produce. Yet I don't want to get lost in that haze of life as a junky again, at least not for the time being, for this time that I am emerging. I have to take away my comfort for now, or I will never finish the book, because if were to live within the cocoon of Methadone for the rest of my life, I wouldn't feel, really, and truly feel what I am suppose to feel to make the art I have to make, to be the me that I have to be.
Suddenly there is a powerful gust of wind, and I see blood...a sea of blood so dark it looks black. I love the look of blood blossoming into a syringe, but without being free of the methadone I will not be able to ever again fully appreciate that blossom of blood. Whenever or if ever I choose to cover my nakedness, emotionally and physically with an opiate.
I sit up, and look at Eleanor, she is cuddled close to me for my warmth, she feels safe and sound. Happy to be outside with me where she knows at that moment everything is perfect, she feels alot like I felt every time I would inject an opiate into a vein.
My life will be a struggle, and for however long I do live, I hope feel a trillion different emotions, and a trillion + physical pains, and gains. I want what is best for me and when it is best for me. How do I know when that is? I suppose whenever I make it happen.
Me and Eleanor stand up, to walk across the road. I feel clear, I felt clarity if only for a few fleeting moments, and it felt amazing. Now its time to take the good with back. I may end up under your bed with pink hair, and shredded clothes, whispering to myself, don't be afraid I wont hurt you. I can't hurt you, because I'm not really their.
I walked into the apartment Eleanor right behind, and reality hit, and I closed to closed myself back in the cocoon. Then I went to write about it.