Almost Heartless


I haven’t been spending as much time on internal links as I used to.

I’m not really stressing out about it (what on this site is worth stressing out over anyway), but I am glad that I put in the song tag feature, as that is turning out to be pretty interesting. Some of the songs on this list are absolutely trash though.

I’m feeling good today, but I do have to maybe try and get some real stuff done. It’s early enough in the day that that isn’t a total impossibility. I took melatonin last night, and I feel like I can’t remember my dreams, but I also feel suspiciously like I’m trying not to remember my dreams today so that I can talk about other things.

I’ve been spending some fun times out in the woods, despite the fact that just about every time I go out there I come back and find a tick on me. I hope that I’m able to get them all – this is one of the biggest challenges of living alone, I’ve seen many people end up just like this over my lifetime, unable to see the big red bullseye forming right in the middle of their back. I have to work on my flexibility so that I can prevent this.

I’m beginning every paragraph with some derivative of I, not sure what this means, other than the fact that I’m reaching for a purpose today. Usually the point reveals itself, this time I have to dig for it.

Come to think of it (I think I’m getting rolling here), I really have been losing substantial momentum in my personal projects. and I call them my personal projects for no reason (here we go, good) because honestly, this is my professional work… even though no one has paid me for it. Yet. I have to get back out there. Let’s see what I get done today.

Another thing this Corona has done for me is that it’s put a pretty good freeze over the job market, so no one will hold it against me if I don’t go out and get a real job this year. Right on time, because I so didn’t get one. And, thinking of it, I can always say that I lost my job to Corona rather than bullshit some explanation for why I still for some reason have a fuckton of money. I should be more honest with myself about how much money I have. Enough to not be scared, but not enough to start slacking off, not like I have been.

My actual job… well, it’s been tough to envision going back there, so another appreciative nod to the Corona climate out there, no one will fault me for not right yet. I don’t want to talk to any of these people. I really don’t. I don’t know what it’s going to take for me to get my head on straight about this but I haven’t yet and don’t feel like dealing with this today, even in thought. I’ll weave this thread back into the main narrative as an ineffectual way to shave off just a sliver of this subject. Instead I somehow recorded 2 meaningless song tags.

I opened my work email to get at a single message with some links, and left it open. It’s nagging at my body physically. I feel almost a wedge being driven between my ribs, second and third from the bottom (3rd and 4th if you count the teeny floating rib, should I?) but from the inside. Like there’s an extra tennis ball there (lol, *extra*? Did I really say that? One tennis ball is too many in there) , or more logically, an extra heart.

And this heart hurts. It hurts everything, I can feel it. Too much pressure in the rib cage, it’s taking up space. It makes my left shoulder tense, my collarbone struggle to hold itself down, as my lung struggles against it to inflate.

It is taking up too much space. I can feel it all along my left side, everything, everything thrown out of alignment. It’s like it appears when I think of those people in my job, and the acute pain of it’s insertion (that word… ugh… but perfect) is noticeable. My back begins to ache as a result of the extra space in the rib page being consumed by what feels like a tennis ball. Reactive as rubber, yielding slightly to the pressure but definitely asserting it’s physical presence inside of me.

I wish I hadn’t opened my email. This is exactly the way I feel about my clients. An extra heart that my body can’t hold. At least not yet. I’m going to get back to work – other work.

Angry for a minute – I wish every one of these men would realize that there are other men in my life, and do the fucking math when they try to take up my time and realize that if every, or in fucking fact any single other, man took up nearly as much time as they do, I would not have time to take an uninterrupted shit for fucks sake, let alone maintain a coherent self concept that involves something other than lounging around in lingerie for 8 straight hours (I had to go back and add the h, omg) and working on the conversion of automatic into cognitive control over my most intricate physical aspects of arousal.

Does this extra, imposing, almost-heart beat?

I can’t even tell.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Anna says:

    I just realized that I do in fact remember some dreams. I don’t know it this comment is going to get long (or identifying), I’m going for it.

    I looked over at my phone, and my aunt was calling. The name on the caller ID flashed a number, then was replaced with the name. The word aunt was not capitalized, the name was.

    This particular aunt is dead, she died a few days, maybe a week, who knows with this timelessness, ago from the virus.

    And, as is customary in my family, she was not my aunt, and the name she used was not her name (now I know where I get this from, no one in my family uses their name and we all have a plethora of aliases. All of us, actually). She was actually my grandfather’s girlfriend, neither of whom I qualitatively ever met, and the mother of my father’s illegitimate sister, also a stranger to me.

    There is a phenomena where dead people call when their spirit finally departs.

    I have experienced this several times, so what’s one more.

    This is the same fish that I used for the comment on my grandmother because honestly, context.

    As always, I feel incredibly guilty that I did not answer the call.

    If my life continues the way it is, I will end up as that second wife that no one knows, calling strangers in the middle of the night to let them know I’m dead.

  2. Anna says:

    I feel that extra tennis ball heart today.

    I miss my friends, my real friends, the people that will tell me I’m ridiculous for all of this fake drama.

    The comment I previously left on this post is so perfect…

    I don’t know what to hope for anymore.

    If I’m pregnant, which I have little indication that I am, I don’t know what I’ll do. I want to keep it, but then that just solidifies my fate, as the second (third?) wife of someone that calls people in the middle of the night to let them know I’m dead. No one will care. Will I care?

    And what of the child? What lonely life am I making for them?

    All of my friends will think I’m ridiculous for even having a child, ridiculous for not getting an abortion rather than roping in a reluctant father who will do nothing but create problems for me, or ridiculous for not telling any of the men so that I can raise a good person without their interference.

    How horrified would any of these men be if they read this right now. They should be.

    And it serves them right for fucking me. It serves them fucking right.

    My rhythm is broken today, this is too long to be a comment, but I make the rules, and I don’t care.

    I make the rules, and I don’t care.

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