The better part of other people's angels

Some nights my meds hit me like a brick inside 10 minutes. Other nights it takes hours. I never know what makes the difference. I just wanna ramble for a while, though I can't guarantee coherency or fullness. I'm also having difficulty typing from the sheer hour of night (1:30 AM). The words are chasing me and I have to dig for the ability to put down anything.

So fucking frustrating. It is also extremely rare that I stay up so late, so while my mind is filling up, my body struggles to put fingers to keys. So. Goddamn. Frustrating.

I wanted to talk about angels. I don't believe in angels, but if there were, I might have met one in a recent ER trip. Fragile, slowly breaking down, but with the most innocent, selfless personality I've ever run into. She was venting about her partner, who refuses to do things like take her to ER and doctor appointments. And she gives everything to him. She talked that she would rather see him happy than herself. And I believe her.

And here I am, struggling to find ways to make anyone else feel better. To give back even the tiniest of attention and care they have endlessly, patiently giving me.

She seemed to be my perfect foil, the absolute opposite of me. I'm an asshole. An outright jerk. And here was someone that made the difference clear.

I need to learn how to be more selfless while she needs to learn how to be more selfish. Such diametrically opposed lessons that need learned, sitting right in front of me.

We exchanged numbers, though I have no idea when I'll feel well enough to contact her.

I also realized something about prayer. Prayer is something you do FOR OTHERS. There was a woman in the hospital, in pain and not at all understanding what was happening to her. She was hysterical, terrified, and so small in her illness. I gave a small, silent prayer that she gets the care she needs.

I don't need prayer myself, as I have no idea if (or believe) divine help is available. But maybe there's something out there listening and maybe other people need it more.

One more smoke and then to bed. I haven't written near enough as I want to, but my body has now closed down for the night, locks and steel grates down tight.

2 AM. There's no use in trying to fight this any longer.

This entry was originally posted at http://quirkytizzy.dreamwidth.org/1067360.html