It's not pretty...

I forgot I had this page...the blog that used to represent a photoblog I kept-- that little engine that thought it could died. There's others out there (blogs) that I've set up here and there under no names...but I am known here. There are people whom "subscribe" or at least did God knows how many years ago.

Any, it's me, Pamela.

I changed the name of this blog upon the return of my moving back to Eugene, Oregon (also, I didn't permanently buy the domain Broken Imagery and lost it..) so I changed the name of this whole thing and thought it would be "cool and interesting to see what kind of changes I'd go through and how I'd view this town differently" after being away for nearly ten years. I couldn't be any more wrong in my knowing, or even fathoming what would unfold in what would be my first five months here.

Hell.

I knew I had demons to face. I knew it would be hard. I knew I had a lot of letting go to do-- I know my head was cloudy with not just a chance of rain but a sure thing of it-- a down pour of PTSD like shit from a past that lurked around every street corner.

I woke this morning from one of the most vivid and terrifying dreams I've had in a long time...I could feel it still after waking...like it was real. That I hadn't dreamt going to see his dead body, that the moment that I screamed his name and tears fell from my eyes he'd pull a tarp to cover his pale skin body-- still dead...but not wanting to look at me.

"Happy One Year" I whispered to myself. I got a phone call from someone else saying the same thing...they didn't know. There's a lot they don't know...like that I thought they might be calling to see if they could stop by for a hug before going to pick up the other one person I confide in and go to in this town before heading out of town to snag a hug-- but it wasn't that. It was a, "don't isolate. eat." and this, and that..then a sudden "alright, bye" and I asked before she hung up if I had upset her..we talked...she's exhausted..her plates full-- just like everyone else in life. I was just filled with furry. I just wanted to be loved...I just wanted to be embraced. Touched. See at least someone that I love tremendously in this town on the day to the year that I came back...that this is where they are too-- and I get these hugs. Rather it just reminded me of one thing, and confirmed a thought I have been ruminating on for quite sometime now: "You are meant to be alone. Keep them-- anyone who says 'I love you' turn around and runaway...they'll only hurt you..they say words that they don't understand. RUN. RUN."

9.30.2013

I am just too tired of being tired. I walked through the rain to an appointment I thought I had today because I missed my bus...pathetically I thought, "at least I'll see Libby- I like her.." but for some reason that appointment was rescheduled...I walked out the door and down a narrow hallway with tears streaming down my face, took a right towards the elevators, and wanted nothing more than to just break through that glass and jump.

I've been saying "I shouldn't have come back.." but really, I was right along. I just thought I was wrong because here I was coming back to Eugene-- ready to live. Whereas in the past I swore the only way I would end up coming back here was if I was dead, or ready to die.