Rebecca

you are such a distant part of my past, of my history. you knew me at a time in my life when i needed to be liberated. i needed an edge and you let me bite off a piece of yours. you darkened my view, and introduced me to new sights and sounds. you introduced me to a level of individuality i didnt know existed. you set me on my course for tragedy and triumph.

but so it goes, as adolescents enter adulthood, the concept of "best friends" changes. it doesnt always carry over.  you can only watch Rocky Horror so many times before the VHS tape wears thin...

im sure we lived parallel lives for a time, unknowingly. sex, drugs, and rock and roll were where we related. it didnt soften the blow, however, when my cocaine addled brain saw your house for the first time in years. i was secretly horrified to run into you under such circumstances, embarrassed at what i had become. you didnt seem to judge me that night, however, because you were just as fucked up. we parted ways again, living parallel, but miles apart...

its good to know you are alive, Becki. its a miracle we both are.the idea of sitting in your kitchen eating dinner and reminiscing is almost laughable. how domestic, how pedestrian. but i know you, Becki, and you were never one for domestics. that grown up dinner may never happen, and i dont believe for a second that you are moving to Italy this year. i believe that YOU believe it, and thats where we will leave it...

but just so you know, i was so moved when you wrote in your diary that i was your best friend a lifetime ago. i read it while you were trying to fuck my cousin or something. yeah, friendship isnt always textbook... fuck, we tore out the pages and rewrote that one... you were always the one who made me brave enough to change, for better or worse.

Skin

The days when nothing seems to wither 
like the traces of your face
 the gentle lines of times which tested,
leaving wisdom in their wake.
but wisdom visual means years the lesser
more in bed, and less at work
the times when mind wants more than vessel,
and body simply cant go on.
where does mind and soul go? 
when the bed sinks under a bodies weight,
it stays to serve those who surround 
waiting for their skin to be less smooth.


© Stephanie J. Picher 2005

faith - May 2011

FAITH. faith in what? who? why? what are my own beliefs? does my mind grasp onto footholds to connect me to that which i cannot see? does it have to be "God"? does it need to be spelled with a capital "G"? does it have to be anyone in particular? i could make a list of examples a thousand strong that i don't believe in. finding the little pieces of dust that move me and inspire me is a harder, longer voyage. my brain tells me what are lies and what hurts but hesitates to lead me in a brighter direction. there is more to all this than just existence. there is a driving force that keeps me stable, connected, safe, and on my feet. it is just further than arms reach, but its there, surrounded by others, by warmth, by chants and gleeful laughter. i follow this path as often as i can make the trek, and every now and then i have faith in myself, if only because other people tell me that they do too...


written on: 5/16/2011

tug of war 2010

"put down the poison and the dagger and make your own happy ending"


i didn't invite you here- i didn't call you. i had grieved the loss of you and your friendship, and just when those flowers begin to wilt, you pop up again, and you have brought your basket of grudges and accusations along with you. please don't be mistaken, i don't ever want to cheapen the bloody awful scars i left or lessen the significance of how i hurt you. the problem is, however, that i have grieved you, all the while progressing in amazing and unexpected ways. i have felt the guilt of you on many different levels and i know it is unhealthy to continue to beat myself up over events of the past. you made the choice to pick up the phone and call me, you made the choice to come by and to bring up things i was not prepared to talk about. the only thing is, i have choices too, and i can choose whether or not to allow the negativity of my previous bad choices to re-enter my life.
in a perfect world, i choose love and mutual respect for the both of us, but i know we arent there yet, at least not together. the water under the bridge is still too high and deep and violent, and crossing isnt safe. we cant just cross and expect not to hurt, but i can choose to avoid crossing altogether, even if it means burning the bridge into the rapid water below. i wont let you pull me below the water line with you.
god dammit! i had mourned you and you decided to show up wanting to talk about what keeps me awake at night? i don't think so. i don't want it, i don't even miss it. i may have needed you in the beginning when you first let me know how horrible you thought i was. i listened to you then, i believed it and i bled for it. maybe we cant be friends anymore, i don't know. i do know that if your plan is to make me feel guilty over what a shitty friend i have been and continue to be, then i just may have to decline your company.
i have to save my life, and i just cant do that with extra servings of shame. not today.

borrowed time 2009

i love how stage lights paint the hair and skin of performers, red and blue...


a sense of urgency has erupted inside of me and it appears to be giving me a new sense of motivation. i hope i dont turn my back on that gift. it is mine to take or leave, but i know how good i am at leaving things. where i am in my life now, stubborn and lazy and complacent is not where i believe i'm "supposed" to be RIGHT HERE AND NOW... "living on borrowed time" is the reality for all of us, and my life has somehow turned into something i dont have pride in. excuses are seconds lost, and i seem to make alot of excuses these days. i only want to live if my life is satisfying, worth living. i know that it seems clear to me that i am largely UNsatisfied as i drag my feet through it all.. i need to make a change and walk towards pride, however far away it seems. i wont set a date, because i know myself. it would be a set up for procrastination and disappointment. all i REALLY know is that i need to get up and i  need to straighten up and start forging a path towards a  future that is satisfying, something that i can take pride in... the shame and guilt, and the pain and hurt have swallowed up the reality of what it is to feel "good". it has swallowed up any semblence of pride or  caring or confidence. i want those things back, whether i ever really felt them or not. i believe that it is mine for the taking if i can finally just stop fucking it up.


written 12/17/09

the edge of glory

this song is like a prayer to me...

be courageous, take risks. you don't belong in harbor.

"a ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for" - William Shedd

seeing through a stranger

There is a man here, on the unit who continuously reminds me of Dad. He's younger, but has a similar build and large frame. He is tall and solid like a house. His beard and facial structure are similar, and sometimes I can't help but stare. A few moments ago, this man was asleep, or passed out in a chair too small for him. His head was back, mouth wide open while loud and struggled breaths sound like snores from his windpipe. It reminds me of watching Dad die. It reminds me of staying with him for hours as he nodded and passed out every few moments, like someone with narcolepsy. I remember being terrified of leaving him, afraid that when I returned he would be gone, that his irregular, audible breaths would have ceased... I've been staring at this man for several minutes, living vicariously through this sight, and trying to find my Dad, even the sickest awareness of him, in a stranger.


written: 5/27/10

must i write?

"in the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. and look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must i write?"