Friday, July 2, 2010

Before I Get High

My head is racing, my heart is pounding. I can feel the heat and subsequent blush in my face and all I’ve done is show up to work. I immediately decide I cannot focus without music. I don’t want to hear the day to day office chatter. Shut the fuck up, will ya? I’m trying to have a moment here.

I am in pain and I want to feel it.

I had dinner last night with an old lover who was in town for business. So good to see him - to have him look right through me, knowing my words before they were even thoughts. How does he do that? I have missed him. It felt like wrapping up in my favorite fuzzy blanket, familiar and warm.

He looked good - really, really good.  He gave me a wink and offered me his pickle. I told him I had already had his pickle and needed to find a new one, perhaps a Vlasic this time or maybe a pickled pepper but definitely not a baby dill, if you know what I mean.

We laughed and cried and we loved each other, only now through the eyes of friends. I shared my broken heart stories with the man who first broke it. It was tender and touching. When it was time to go and I felt him pull me in for the big kiss, I gently pushed away and said hey, do me a favor......go and be happy now, you hear? Yes Angela, I will he said. And you do the same baby cakes.

It was cathartic to see him. I had let go of him many moons ago but we never had closure. We never got to the point where we could be friends. That's what this dinner did for me (us). I looked at him through the eyes of a friend and saw somebody I really didn't belong with. Unfortunately, all of these earth shattering revelations didn't take away any of my aforementioned pain; nor did it fill up any of this space inside me, you know the part that feels like a big empty hole. 

A vast empty broken heart remains.

So here I sit in my little office world, plugging in my Ipod and placing my faith in the shuffle option to carry me away. First song, I hear the peaceful sound of chirping birds, then the acoustic guitar increasing in volume until finally the melancholy flute descends upon me. Lifting my head, I am transported through time – a young girl, alone, raising a baby on her own. Rocking him through the night as I looked into the future and agreed – there’s a lot of me got to go under before I get high. 

Even in the quietest moments
I wish I knew, what I had to do
And even though the sun is shining
Well I feel the rain
Here it comes again, dear


And even when you showed me
My heart was out of tune
For there’s a shadow of doubt
That’s not letting me find you too soon


The music that you gave me
The language of my soul
Lord I wanna be with you
Won’t you let me come in from the cold?


And even though the stars are listening
And the ocean’s deep
I just go to sleep
And then I create the silent movie
You become the star
Is that what you are, dear?


Your whisper tells a secret
Your laughter brings me joy
And the wondrous feeling
I’m natures own little boy


But still the tears keep falling
They’re raining from the sky
Well there’s a lot of me got to go under
Before I get high


Even when the song is over
Where have I been?
Was it just a dream?
And though your door is always open
Where do I begin?
May I please come in, dear?


~Roger Hodgson, Rick Davies

3 comments:

  1. Don't ever let go of who you are again. There is too much richness there to be wasted, or should I say tasted - like sweet honey.

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  2. Hi!!

    Thanks for stopping by my blog and visiting the Follow Friday 40 and Over Blog Hop!

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  3. I wish I could paint as beautiful a picture with words as you do. Mine feels like it's a big, black velvet paint-by-number of clown with a puppy. Seriously. You've been missed.

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