So Many Means Of Self-destruction,

I Am Often Drawn To What Appear At First To Be 'dark' Or 'difficult' Subjects, But Which, Upon Further Examination, Are Always And Only Reflections Of The Ways Human Beings Attempt, However Clumsily, Badly, Or Well, To Connect With Others.

You Never Come Back, Not All The Way. Always There Is An Odd Distance Between You And The People You Love And The People You Meet, A Barrier Thin As The Glass Of A Mirror, You Never Come All The Way Out Of The Mirror; You Stand, For The Rest Of Your Life, With One Foot In This World And No One In Another, Where Everything Is Upside Down And Backward And Sad.

The Problem Is That You Don't Just Choose Recovery. You Have To Keep Choosing Recovery, Over And Over And Over Again. You Have To Make That Choice 5-6 Times Each Day. You Have To Make That Choice Even When You Really Don't Want To. It's Not A Single Choice, And It's Not Easy.

There Is Never A Sudden Revelation, A Complete And Tidy Explanation For Why It Happened, Or Why It Ends, Or Why Or Who You Are. You Want One And I Want One, But There Isn't One. It Comes In Bits And Pieces, And You Stitch Them Together Wherever They Fit, And When You Are Done You Hold Yourself Up, And Still There Are Holes And You Are A Rag Doll, Invented, Imperfect. And Yet You Are All That You Have, So You Must Be Enough. There Is No Other Way.

I Either Want To Be Completely Recovered Or Completely Emaciated. It's The In Between That I Can't Stand, The Limbo Of Failure Where You Know That You Haven't Done Your Best At One Or The Other: Dying Or Living.