I had this dream that I was walking through familiar forests with some friends. I recognized them as the woods behind my parent's house, but deeper into winter than they probably are now: empty, brown stickwoods. I came out over the hill and found that the pond there had been recently drained. We walked down into the empty basin of it, passed the crumbling ruin of the little dock. There was all kinds of trash at the bottom--dead, scummed-over leaves, old miller bottles, tangles of fishing line and tackle. I walked to the far bank, away from my friends, and my eye caught on something pale white stuck under a tangle of large branches. It was my own dead body. All of the sudden in my dream-logic I remembered having previously drowned myself there, and forgotten, like my suicide was a project I'd started and then put down. But the weird thing is, I was so embarrassed. I tried to play it really casually and walk off the other way, hoping my friends wouldn't notice, change the subject, suggest another route. It was almost funny.
I've started so many posts here recently, so many vague, stupid little stunted things. Confessionals and distractions. I wrote pages about standing in line at the pharmacy at walmart only to find that they hadn't called in my desperate little prescription after all. I've been thinking a lot about what I say and don't say in this, and in my life. I'm vague, I half-say everything. But now it's too much. I feel like I pulled my ripcord and realized I wasn't wearing a parachute. I feel literal, nuclear.
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