Paul Sharits (1943-1993)

actual, an actual being, a potential non-being. I must save myself, live in serenity, slow my pace radically, care for my actual self (not “Paul Sharits”), love others with deeper conviction.

LaGuardia/ grey NYC (it was so lovely and sunny in Va this morning)/ but, must fare it all again/rain. Memories of That Night, waking in pain, gasping for oxygen, falling off my toilet, chest in pain, near fainting—the extreme fear forcing me to make one grand last move: dragging myself into the living room, clutching the phone, hardly able to dial or talk—the police, the ambulance, trying to keep myself alive, couldn’t breather: “this is death, this is really death”/ pass out.