flowers and bullets

I pray.
And I curse God.
I know. And I wish I did not. I have been hanging around, playing Jesus. I don't want to any longer.
Today I wrote to someone to tell him that I wish I could talk to him, as I've cared about him deeply for years. I went to my mom's to get her some food, and we ate chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans, which were tasty, and I made sure she had enough to take some extra home with her for tomorrow. I sang, 'Sailing Away' in my car with the windows down, in the heat of summer, as no other cars were around.
Beneath my chipped, pink nail polish, which doesn't suit me, is gun powder, from time spent at the firing range yesterday. This afternoon, I held the gun in my mouth, unloaded, to practice pulling the trigger. I read some of the owners' manual. The instructor from the NRA personal safety course I pretended to want to take called me, and I said I'd call him back and never did. A guy I used to work with left a message on my machine, "last time we talked it was about 3 am...." and i remembered that i did talk to him, not too long ago, and tried to convince him to take a trip to New York City with me, which he wouldn't, and which wouldn't, really, have made much sense since we've never gone any place together, but I would have done it, at the time. I thought about going to Roswell, where people look for aliens. I thought about writing poetry and about physics and about how much I missed out on by not finishing college. I gave my mother a gift. I went to a park to scope out the possibilities of shooting oneself there, as it is on the water, and if one is to shoot one's self and not die immediately, it would be nice to be able to drown. I thought about traveling somewhere else to shoot myself. I thought about shooting myself here. I went to print out the copy of the living will (couldn't open the document, oh well). I thought, it can wait till tomorrow. I felt the pain in my abdomen after I ate, the severe, daily pain, and I thought, of course, it is this that is why I am going to really have to die. The sunshine was lovely today, as was the sky at sunset. A long-necked bird of some sort, some sort of crane, was outside the fast food chicken place. We fed him some cornbread. I looked through some old books that lay in a pile of rubbish in a garage where they were put after my last hospital trip which led to me losing my last (and only real) apartment, and realized how much I miss my books. I thought of who I might give some too. I took a shower, but could not wash my hair; that is too complicated. I am longing for something besides a bullet to my brain to solve things. I am longing for someone to talk to, to trust, someone to hold onto me and tell me some sort of lie about how things will be okay. I am longing to get the baby out of my abdomen. I am longing for some alternative explanation to it being a baby, since I have been told by medical people that it's not one, and it obviously is one. I wanted to pick some flowers at the shooting range the other day, and forgot to do it. There were these lovely wildflowers growing in abundance there. I brought home the target that shows I can hit a bull's eye. The flowers were what I wanted. Tonight I drove past a funeral home and cemetary. My stepmother once had lost a baby and he was buried in that cemetary. I wish to be buried there as well; it's a nice enough place for people to visit if they ever want to. I tried to talk to my sister on the phone earlier. She doesn't communicate much; she hung up without saying a word. I feel such guilt for not being able to make her happy, for not being able to solve things for her and my mother. Such incredible guilt. I wanted to call my brother. I don't know what I would say. I wanted to call someone, anyone. To hear from someone. I'm sitting here wondering why. Why. Why. There was a time when I liked Annie Lennox. But seriously........why? Tonight as my mom fed a bird and I watched through the window, they played Sarah Mclachlan's "Angel" song at the fast food place. I took a walk with mom my mother. She said how she wants a big party next year for her fiftieth birthday. I said, I hope my brother and sister are both able to be there. I hope they are. I don't think I will be. For that, I'm sorry. Tonight I am thinking of the words I heard on New Year's Eve, and other things that people would not understand if I typed them hear and anyone ever read this. I am sorry for a lot of things. Tori Amos is singing, "Mother" on the cd player. I was supposed to be a mother.......So much has gone awry.