My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Thursday, November 18, 2004

 

*sigh* rushing about, preparing for the greatest of all mindless processions; the debate tournament.

My clothes are packed, my homework something resembling completed, my cases rewritten and astutely timed. Everything is done... It should be calming to me, however this is not the case.

My world feels supremely upside down; perhaps it's my steadily escalating fever, perhaps its the events i've had to deal with recently, perhaps its the absence (or at least long term deprivation from) those things that generally keep my life so grounded.

I am not excited for this weekend; I do not hope to win.

Disturbing fact discovered this morning; 20% of all those diagnosed with bipolar disorder will take their own life. That's one in every 5... a hearty percent of a culture into which i have not literally adapted, but whose common themes i know; listlessness, unproportional responses to events, unidentifiable but still extant fears...

This part of my life I know, and have come to accept and learned to control. This is my reality, slightly altered for acceptability. I do not desire medication, I know the pains of that. However, I am not so foolish as to simply surrender to my imbalances... Maybe I have it easy, but I can fight. Places like this one exist for me to express my imbalance of emotions. The rest of the time, I can logically comprehend that when I spill a glass of milk it shouldn't leave me bedridden(no matter how to pieces I feel) and when someone I know falls seriously ill I should be sad... no matter how neutral I may feel.

What truly hurts doesn't phase me, sometimes... but I'm spectacular at acting like it does. Like painting, I see an object and although I cannot create it, I can imitate it.

However... like an unexpected chemical reaction, something so simple as forgetting my equation sheet for physics, or not hearing the work for spanish puts me through a lot of pain. But I know the routine for how to handle pain.

Take a deep breath, push away reality, and move on in the world you prefer... If experiences with my father have taught me anything, perhaps the best thing I will take from it will be an understanding of how to deal with my own disorder.

It's simple really. Create lots of lists of regimens, things that must be done in this order, else I have failed. I never let myself down. Always have human contact. Do homework in front of the computer, spend the rest of my time on the phone... and don't sleep. Sleep will undo everything I spend the day creating; a few moments to think upset the entire illogical (but incredibly effective) process... and we wouldn't want that.

Perhaps I might feel uncomfortable with what i was doing were I suppressing a true emotion... but that's precisely what I'm not doing. I am not refraining from coping with any of my problems... I am learning how to cope normally. Perhaps one day, the feelings I paint upon my face will be real. Perhaps synapses can be realigned, seratonin taught its proper course.

But I don't mean to draw attention to this problem; that's precisely what I strive not to do. Just a strange quotation on the radio, and a distinctive decision not to be a part of that rather large minority who cannot handle their disability.

This is me. This is me in love.

I love you |6:44 PM