i have been here a million times before, i can literally see the sun streaming through the cracks in the door ahead of me. yes, someone else's naked ass may reach it incrementally before mine, but there is a time and place for everyone to reach the light.
i'm at the seedy Turkish bath house on 10th street, and i've just come out of the Russian room where i scrubbed sea salt so fiercely into my hot skin in the 1000degree room that my shoulders are still screaming lay off bitch and now it's just slippery. it's so slippery now walking up the stairs in the flesh-colored rubber plastic sandals they give you that someone's great-grandmother wore in '52 because the salt is still on my skin and it's turning to soap in my rubber sandals and i'm walking timidly but fetchingly i would say up the stairs to roof deck, water streaming off me into my sandals making it all the more slippery as i clutch the rail and try not to think about the reaalllly bad fall i could take down three flights if i lose it in the sandals now and really bite it, just when i'm so close. that's the way I feel now, really, waking up every morning thinking shit this is scary but I really might reach it and I'm so close to the light.....
yes walking in those terrifying sandals is the way i feel, although i'm not really walking, i'm just trying to make it out of the slippery shit i've been sliding around in for years without falling down three flights of metaphorical stairs and calling it quits and not just him, but everything, this that, everything. i'm following the "no contact" rule, which really, i feel is the dumbest rule there is, but everyone seems to swear by it - it clears the mind, soothes the soul that type of thing. actually, i think that's what he was trying to tell me too last time we spoke, right after he threatened to call the police, but come on, can't he realize there's a little bit of psycho in each of us and then there's the sign i saw on the fridge behind the counter at the bath house:
i'm at the seedy Turkish bath house on 10th street, and i've just come out of the Russian room where i scrubbed sea salt so fiercely into my hot skin in the 1000degree room that my shoulders are still screaming lay off bitch and now it's just slippery. it's so slippery now walking up the stairs in the flesh-colored rubber plastic sandals they give you that someone's great-grandmother wore in '52 because the salt is still on my skin and it's turning to soap in my rubber sandals and i'm walking timidly but fetchingly i would say up the stairs to roof deck, water streaming off me into my sandals making it all the more slippery as i clutch the rail and try not to think about the reaalllly bad fall i could take down three flights if i lose it in the sandals now and really bite it, just when i'm so close. that's the way I feel now, really, waking up every morning thinking shit this is scary but I really might reach it and I'm so close to the light.....
yes walking in those terrifying sandals is the way i feel, although i'm not really walking, i'm just trying to make it out of the slippery shit i've been sliding around in for years without falling down three flights of metaphorical stairs and calling it quits and not just him, but everything, this that, everything. i'm following the "no contact" rule, which really, i feel is the dumbest rule there is, but everyone seems to swear by it - it clears the mind, soothes the soul that type of thing. actually, i think that's what he was trying to tell me too last time we spoke, right after he threatened to call the police, but come on, can't he realize there's a little bit of psycho in each of us and then there's the sign i saw on the fridge behind the counter at the bath house:
