Just thinking . . .

I've been thinking of Tom and Dea.

And the time is approaching the year mark of when I became suicidal. I lost myself a year ago.

I'm not there anymore, though.

I've been thinking about Tom and Dea, and my state of mind when I was suicidal, and how completely forgivable it is to be there. People are so harsh and critical about suicide. I think that comes of their sorrow and pain, and certainly of their confusion and desperation and sense of emptiness. All of it is understandable.

And I mean ALL of it is understandable - everyone's pain, everyone's feelings. I mean to say that even those who have taken their lives, even their pain and sorrow can be understandable, in time.

I just have so much love and compassion for Tom and Dea. I could explain, but I don't know that it would do any good here. Should I try? I don't know. That is so personal, I think. If you want me to, email me and I'll share my feelings with you personally. I can tell you how I feel, having been there and back myself.

This song says some of it:



Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it ok
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seep from my veins
Let me be empty and, oh, weightless
And maybe I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference
Escaping one last time
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness
Oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here

You're in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here


I love you Tom. I love you Dea. I want you both to know that I'm staying right here. The feelings may persist in me now and then, but they are weaker now, and I see now that my reasons for staying are bigger and stronger than my desire to run home to his arms, as beautiful and sweet as they are.