Absolute fucking hell... but a rather nice visit...

After a long break, I'm back to the whole blogging business. The business of blogging, of making a blog, of producing blogness...

This weekend, while long and containing no work, was, surprisingly, a big, fat pile of dogshit. I'm rather irritated at the whole thing, if you must know.

It started Wednesday night (yep, nearly a week ago), when I came home a little early and proceeded to lose my mind. I had nothing to do, you see, and filled each moment with loss. All I could do was sit there and miss Rosa - so, I jumped on the phone, hoping that would help. Not too many folk were home, though. It was Christmas Eve. People were out with loved ones and couldn't be reached or they were staying in with loved ones and didn't want to be reached. The night took forever.

The next day, Christmas, I made it a point to sleep in - after all, I hadn't gone to sleep until very late the previous night, having spent so much time tossing and turning, tortured by the shouting in my head - and made it to my mom's for Christmas dinner just in time for me to leave. I have a really hard time sitting in the same room with Joe, my step-dad. The man obviously hates my mother's children, which - being one of them - offends me.

That night, more screaming in my head, tortured screams from the loss of Rosa, so I decided to sleep in again. Thursday afternoon, I drove out to see my dad and Blanche in Arizona. Though I left early, nothing really compelled me to stay home, I didn't end up in Arizona until around 7pm. Traffic. Heaping mounds of traffic - it was awful. That said, I do want to recommend that every take the 60 east sometime if only to see the immense wind farms. Turbine towers stretch off for miles; it's nearly impossible not to get hypnotized by the things. Though the desert was beautiful, I think Oregon gave me enough of driving. I just wanted to get there.

I pulled up to their house rather late and we went out to dinner at a place called "On the Border". (It's a chain so you might have heard of if.) We got a seat and of course it made sense that, since I was far from home, out of state, the waitress flirted with me. Of course. I couldn't possibly date her! (The logic of my life is a real pain in the ass.)

We returned home and soon went to sleep. When I laid down and closed my eyes, I thought nothing would feel better than some sleep. I began to drift. Suddenly, I found myself at a vacant lot (outside Apple Valley, if you must know) three years ago but I knew what I hadn't known then - that I had lost Rosa forever. As I realized this, the screaming in my head got louder and louder until - I woke with a start. Only a few minutes had passed. I tried going back to sleep but knew I wouldn't be able to so I picked up my book and read - and read - and read until I drifted off sometime after 2:30 am. I awoke soon, it seemed, but a couple of hours had passed. It was 5:12 am and I had awoken from another dream about Rosa - or about losing Rosa. I wasn't going back to sleep. I stayed up and read.

Later, when the folks were up, we went to breakfast. I paid, though Blanche didn't want me to - too bad, Blanche. I had to leave shortly thereafter - I didn't really want to but I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my mouth shut through my father's right-wing diatribes for much longer!

The ride back was, surprisingly, relaxing. (Then again, maybe it wasn't so surprising. My sleep had been off for days.) I say surprising because the voices still haunted me, just on the periphery of my hearing. This constant stream of word/images that did nothing but emphasize my sense of isolation and loss and put Rosa right at the forefront of my mind. Despite all of that, though, I was able to enjoy the Indian reservations I drove through, the wonderful, diverse scenery, the snow (of all things) as I drove down to San Diego via Interstate 8.

When I reached Tim's that afternoon, I didn't stay long. Tim was in a bad mood (or, at least, he seemed so) and so was I and when he started talking about how fat I was (yes, I've put my weight back on) or getting on my back over a girl I didn't date (though Tim believed I absolutely should have), I was too sensitive to dead with it. I left early in the evening and got home in an awful state. I couldn't concentrate on anything; the voices were so loud. I just sat on my sofa for several hours, suffering through the loss of Rosa. It's been nearly four years and the pain just gets worse every day.

Sunday morning, I cancelled my plans with Sean that afternoon. I hadn't slept the night before and looked awful. I told him I had a bug, which isn't far from the truth. My mental health had gone seriously downhill. Then, at around 5pm, I got up, took a shower, went out, and began to drive. I didn't' know where I was going or what I was doing. I drove on reflex, kind of like sleep-walking. I drove to the desert and out to LA. I didn't think about where I was going or why. I was just so tired, I couldn't fight the impulse to run any more and, once I gave in, I really didn't know where to go.

When I got home, it was late. I didn't get to sleep until nearly 4am.

Don't really know how to close this. I miss Rosa terribly and feel a bitter sense of resentment for what she's done to me. Unlike her, I can't even live a normal life. Yet, I'm seen as the monster and she the helpless victim. After four years of sleepless nights (and much worse), I wonder if it will ever end and if I will ever have a life like normal people or if I'm meant to live in torment.