Day 292: So painful it’s funny
I’m in so much pain right now that I can barely walk. Sitting down feels amazing; walking around, not so much. And now I’m listening to Damien Rice because he knows about pain, and his pain makes me feel good. Better, I guess. I have blisters on the bottom of both feet, my thighs and calves are sore, my shoulders and upper back are sore, and life is hilarious. Something is seriously wired wrong in my head because all this pain feels good. It makes me laugh, especially when it hurts the most.
A week ago today she came back into my life and told me to never try to contact her again, and she told me never to talk to her little sister, who is a student at the school where I work. I was devastated all that day, and I wrote what is most likely the shortest entry during the life of this blog. A week later, and I feel better, even though I’m still thinking about her. I did everything for her, you know? This blog, my life transformation, everything, and she wants nothing to do with me. First of all, my goals were misguided. I shouldn’t have done anything for somebody who wanted nothing to do with me. Second, I did all of what I did on my own and for myself.
Fire season is here, and I’m on call, waiting for my first fire of the season. Unlike my previous seasons, I have a car to drive me to the division. I don’t have to rely on anyone to give me a ride anymore. I’m self-sufficient that way. Also, this could be my busiest fire season ever. We had a really dry year last year, and the weather is hitting record highs around here this month that shit could literally start blowing up. It’s awesome.
My Good Fucking Design poster arrived yesterday, and the two poster frames arrived today. My second poster should arrive next Wednesday, and by then, I’ll be done with buying posters. My next form of wall decoration will be family photographs and other types of photos I’ve taken that I want to hang up and admire for years and years to come. The definition of home is slowly becoming clear for me, and I’m understanding how significant of a thing it is.
I feel alone a lot. I’m with myself all the time, and I need a break. Fire season gives me that. New friends will give me that. A loving home will nourish that, I think. I hope.