I Am A Gambler

I live just east of Las Vegas. Just a ways east of Las Vegas. Just about 1,276 miles east of Las Vegas, as the crow flies. Not too far, really...

Ok, ok. I live a long way from Vegas, alright? But the place keeps calling me there. More the state than the city.

The heat. The lack of humidity. The climate. The unexplainable feeling -- the knowing -- that I have to be there. That I've been there before. The desert. I need to be there. Live there.

And the truth is, probably the only way I'll ever get there is in the form of ashes. And then it would take someone who cares enough to get them out there, to the desert, and set them free. (And, I suppose, hope they are not standing upwind of them when they do.)

Unless I hit the lottery, I'll live and die here in Nebraska. And maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. I can't help feeling, though, that if I just hold on to it, not let go, keep it in sight...that somehow, someway, it will happen.

It's not the gambling, the city, the lights or the excitement. Although, all that is an amazing bonus. It's the desert. I think I'm still looking for home.

For now, it's a dream, it's a gamble, it's a long shot. I try to only bet on sure things. But if my last bet is any indication of the odds, I might be betting more than I can afford to lose. I've already lost it all.

For now, all the closer I can get? About 60 miles further east. But that's ok. It's the second best thing. And I left $100 up and comped my dinner, so I guess it was a pretty good night. Except that I did all this alone.

Should I complain about that? Yea, I guess I could. And I probably will all by myself where no one else will know it. But to the world, I will say, "Hell, yea. I had a good time. I came out ahead. I got a free dinner. And I had fun." And I'll walk away smiling. I'll just leave out the part about doing it myself.

Disappointment is part of life. But when life becomes a disappointment, I start getting worried.

One wish. Just one wish. I want a miracle. I need a miracle. But it may be too late.

It's like playing craps. One minute, your up $3,000. The next, you've lost everything. All on one role of the dice...

Awake

It's 7:30am on Wednesday, November 23rd. I'm still awake. I haven't been to bed yet.
Took my meds 3 hours ago. Nothing. Can't take anymore.
Insomnia.
My mind is racing racing racing. I should be asleep.
I feel like I'm ready for something to happen; ready to jump.
But there is nothing.
I need to lie down. I need to go to bed. I need to go to sleep.
But when I close my eyes, I see you.
When I curl up to relax, I reach for something warm; heart beating.
I reach for you.
I was so close to you last night. Only a few miles away.
Had to drive home in the fog. 50 in a 75. Lead by the white lines.
I need to sleep.
Can't block it out sometimes. It doesn't always work.
Sometimes, I can't fake it 'til I make it.
I want to fall asleep. I don't want to feel like this anymore.
I want to curl up next to you on your shoulder, feel your warmth,
And go to sleep....

Ly

I wanted to write something tonight.
But, for once...
I have nothing to say.
Nothing.
Except...
I Love You...

"I Want"

I'm tired.
So tired.
And not really making much sense.
As long as I can stay one step ahead of the men in the white coats
I should be ok.
But I'm afraid they many catch up with me eventually.
And I'm too tired to run anymore.

"I want".
Something someone used to say to me.
I want, too.
I want to see you.
It's been two weeks.
I don't want to wait another two weeks.

I want the dream.

Fail

I made it all the way to pick up my bipolar supervisor.
I made it all the way downtown to the job.
I made it all the way through the "walk through" (to see if outside doors are locked, etc.)
And then.
Then I couldn't do anymore.
I sat there on my ass and let her check first floor by herself.
And then.
Then I checked out and went home.
I will be paid for one hour tonight.
One hour.
$8.00.
Why do I try?
Why??
It isn't worth it. None of it is worth it.
And so, I am home tonight.
And that is dangerous.
I'm tired of trying.
I'm tired of failing.
I'm tired of living.
I'm tired...just tired...
Fail.
Game Over.

Nothing.....Again

I have no energy today.
No desire to do anything at all.
Nothing I planned to do this weekend was done.
I don't want to go to that shitty little job that doesn't pay enough to survive because it's the only place that would hire me.
Nope.
No desire at all.
I feel like calling in and telling them they suck, their job sucks, and I'm slowly starving to death and will eventually lose my house.
Because the dude that calls himself the boss is a jerk.
He keeps all the money, all the bonuses for himself.
A jerk.
But, to do that would be dangerous for myself.
Very, very dangerous.
Because then I would be left with no job at all.
And I ask you, how would that look on a resume'?
Yep. I'm pretty much fucked. Totally.
So, I reluctantly get ready to go to a job I hate.
I reluctantly go to pick up my bipolar supervisor because she hasn't had a car that runs for weeks.
I hate this job.
I hate my life at the moment.
I try to have faith that things will get better.
And when they finally do, you'll see *happy* posts from me.
But until that times comes, what you'll get
Is the truth.
At this moment:
FML

The Lunatic

Well, I overslept today. The moon is already beginning to take it's tole on me. Insomnia.
That is how my day started.

I fell asleep, finally, at 6:30 this morning. I fell asleep praying. It took more of my meds than usual to pass out. And I know that's why I didn't wake up until 4:00 in the afternoon. Thank God, I don't have to be at work until 6:00pm.

I am fighting the huge lump in my throat and the knot in my stomach. And if I'm not fully medicated the entire time I'm awake, it comes back.

I have the added symptom of my heart aching. That is the part that's killing me. This happened once before, around the time of my birthday. I thought I was having a small stroke -- all the symptoms were there. I thought I was dying.

So logically, I know these are the old familiar symptoms, back again. Emotionally, I'm dying. Hard as I try, I can't convince myself that I'm not. I know my body will live on, but inside, I will die.

I can fight off this feeling as long as I am heavily medicated and am doing something, like going to work. Although, that's a struggle. It's the last place I want to be, but I know that if I stay home, I will have more time on my hands to think. And thinking is what is doing me in.

I can't be where I want to be. That is impossible. And the fear that I will never be there, where I want to be, again, is a knife through my heart.

I have to leave for work soon; all my pets are fed, I'm dressed, all is ready. Except me. I'm not ready. I'm not ready for this night.

The moon was beautiful on the way home yesterday. And becomming more full by the night. Soon, it will be full. And by that time, I will be quite sleep deprived. I can't sleep during the full moon. Back in the day, they called this type of person a "lunatic".

It was ok with me at one time. I had someone to share those waking hours with; someone who understood the effect the moon has on some people. I don't have that anymore. I'm left with only myself for comfort and that is a dangerous thing. A very dangerous thing because, well, I don't like myself very much at the moment. I don't really care that I can't sleep. And I can give myself no solace regarding it.

And so, I do the only thing I know how to do anymore...I pray. I pray for God's will to be done. But I also pray, shelfishly, for myself. I pray that what I want to be done. But I must remember to add that only if it is His will for me...for all concerned.

I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Only God knows how hard this is. This is not me; patience, waiting, staying calm, hoping for the best. These things are not me.

So many things, everything, it seems, have gone wrong in my life. Everything I touch has turned to dust in my hands.

And so, I go to work. It's Friday. I can spend most of the evening alone if I try. Only at breaks do I need to talk and socialize with another person.

But all I can do is think about someone else. Someone who is far far away. Not only in miles, but in others ways, as well. And I am afraid, so afraid, that they will stay that way.