giving is never enough

Waking at 3:30am to a deep kind of chest pains, takotsubo or heartburn? Don’t know. But the remains of the day have me getting up, seeking urinary release, a brief cease to the sleep to walk upright, and a cool glass of water. Now that my new neighbor’s thumping Latin music has finally ended, I can hear my own chest thumping and burning. Part of me just wants to return to sleep. Part of me wants to walk to the Valero Station and purchase some Tums. Part of me wants to have more water and turn on sports center in the witching hour just to see what girls college softball game is being repeated. Part of me hopes that it is worse than my gut tells me, that it is indeed the end, and that it is in fact my last night on earth. How sufficient does my budget seem, if it only has to last another day? More than enough. I have not endured anything as drastic as genital mutilation at the hands of militant tribal factions in Uganda, or the ills that befall transgendered males in our society of pigeon holing and then marginalizing individuals. I know I have my own issues though. Still waters run deep, as they say. Every where I go, they need money. I go to church, and they ask every one to pray and see if God is putting it on their hearts to give more. I go to the community theatres and they are wondering if everyone can find it in their hearts to donate and keep the live alive. I walk in front of the casinos, and panhandlers appeal to my sense of heart in asking for spare change, or real change as it were. I go on Facebook and it seems everyone has a kickstarter or a gofundme account on their own behalf or some poor child’s behalf, or some animal in need. So much need. So much pain. Heart ache is all I gain. And the burn in my chest will remain. I don’t care how cute your new profile picture is. I’m not going to give even more money, and even more time so that you can travel the world when I barely get by, and that’s what I want to do. It isn’t about me. I know. But my heart can’t take much more, and this condition persists. I give an abundant amount of my time to the theatre, I’ve stopped going to church, and I wonder what I would really lose by deactivating my Facebook. Dear world, I give what I can. Please stop asking for more. More more. More. More. More. Will it ever end? Maybe. Hopefully. Tonight.


Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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