another 2-post day...

it's funny, i've still got a lot to say, but every time i get to the second post, i find myself tongue-tied...
my emotional endurance is already breaking. every stupid little thing is stressing me out. i'm relying more and more on coping skills that actually reduce my ability to cope, although they meet the base requirements for getting through the immediate situation as it arises. guilt and pressure are everywhere, like gnats around my head that i can't swat away.

doesn't really matter, i guess. am looking forward to tonight... have been anticipating some time off, even a little, surrounded by friends, all week. can't wait, actually. friends. nothing to count. time to do the few things that matter.

in the meantime, a poem i wrote a long time ago that i've been thinking about a lot lately. as long as my wishes are followed, it's more or less the only thing i want read at my funeral... one last chance for people to understand at least one more fragment of me, even if it's too late for me to watch it happen...

Last Letter to a Hero

I always wanted to be like you
Sometimes when I was alone
I would tie a jacket around my neck
and run
laughing as the wind lifted it
immagining I was flying alongside you
I would point you out to my friends
whenever i saw you
They would confuse you for a bird
or a plane
or a mild-mannered reporter
who had learned how to fly
but I knew your secret
you were a hero
my hero
maybe that's why i spent so much
time
standing on my roof
neck craned
hoping to catch a flash
of blue and red
maybe that's why I
jumped
fooled by dreams
even though the cape
wasn't real
and the "S" probably stood for
Something else
Sad
Strong
or maybe just
So Sorry
But that didn't matter
if I pretended hard enough
if I convinced myself well enough
if I just believed
I could fly
Because maybe i was
a hero
too
And maybe i knew all along
that not even a hero
can fly
forever