ive been in a mood to write. which isnt a good sign
i just had my first meal in almost 3 days. granted it was one of those teriyaki flavored dried ramen shits with enough sodium to kill an infant, but nevertheless, food. i feel a little more alive, but not any less hollow. i also drank some water. i figured it would be a shame to die from dehydration when the real cause will be something much more tragic.
i keep thinking about that frou frou song, let go, where she keeps moaning and crying at me to let go, give in, because there is beauty in the breakdown. and i keep thinking, what the fuck are you talking about? i dont get it whatsoever. thats like saying there’s candy inside of poop, go ahead honey, and eat it. um is that a joke? anybody experiencing a breakdown will not listen to all that beauty shit for a second. its called a breakdown because it’s just that – a hideous, ugly breakage of your very being – your laugh and your will and your soul. cmon frou frou, stop sugar coating the poop.
i haven’t cried in about 4 hours. progress? maybe. intentionally distracted? more likely. whatever the reason, its starting to scare me. does this mean i dont hurt anymore? does it mean ive erased you? have i stonewalled all the heart-aching memories? or maybe my heart just turned into stone. i want to keep crying, though. without the tears and anger, i feel numb and i feel nothing.
i want to know what you are feeling. are you as beaten down as i am, or were you able to shake me off like light rain on an umbrella? are you hurting at all? i hope you are but at the same time, your hurt will make me hurt. are you relieved that you are free? that you have no one to maintain and care for? what do you tell people when they ask about me? do you make me out to be the bad guy? do you say anything at all? do they even know i existed? did i ever exist?
i took a shower today. i changed my clothes and threw the ones that smelled like you in the hamper. i cant have you lingering around, not like that. i collected the forest of tissues in my bed, the ones with the tears that you caused, and i threw them away. im throwing all of you away. except for a tiny shipping box with your name on it that you left in my car a while ago. inside, it holds a tiny memory but its not worth mentioning, its insignificant now. its just a tiny box that doesnt take up too much space, so ill hang on to that for just a little bit.
i wonder what will happen from now on. will i compare everyone i meet to you? will they all fall short? will someone show me all the things you werent able to? what about you? will you compare the next girl’s smile to mine? will she touch you the same way i did? will she hold your hand the correct way that you like? will you gently kiss her palms the same way you kissed mine..?
its strange, how many things are running through my head. its strange because i dont feel any of it. the thoughts are coming from nowhere and fading into nowhere. they are thoughts i can transcribe into words on my screen, but i am not mentally present while thinking them. i feel numb. i feel nothing. i feel paralyzed and i feel trapped in a void.
anyways, back to bed. i have some shows to catch up on and some empty walls to stare at.
i contest the saying that you cant miss something you’ve never had. yeah fine, i can’t miss it but i still know that i’m missing it. i can literally feel the void – a physically empty space in my body that emotions like love and affection should be filling and constantly replenishing. the annoying thing that gets me is that this space is empty but so, so heavy. i was never able to quite wrap my head around that. how can being completely hollow feel the weight of tons of iron bricks? some days i can ditch a few of them on the side of the road, but for the most part, they have taken permanent residence inside of me. ive tried to rationalize my seemingly misguided pessimism and indifference by slapping myself, metaphorically of course, across the face to snap out of it. but i can never shake the feeling or the weight. happy people sometimes make me sick. i dont know if its because im green with envy or black with segregation. i struggle with how to communicate with these people. i cant relate to your joy and you cant relate to my pain, so let’s just, like, i donno, talk about the weather? are you all fooling yourselves, or are you truly content with so many aspects of your life? how can you be when there is so much ugly in this world? are you sheltered from it all? do you just turn a blind eye? have you never experienced sadness? have you never been lost, unloved, degraded, abused? am i just living in a completely different world than everyone else? i don’t understand it. sure i could trick myself into happiness for the sake of it, but when buzz wears off and i retreat back to my bed, my mind, my thoughts, the darkness is still there. just because i turn the lights on during the day, it doesn’t make the night less real or less dark. when i was younger, i never really fantasized about getting swept away by some prince charming man like most girls dreamt about, i assume. i actually have no idea, i was born the wrong gender (great job, God). but i always wanted some long lost family i’d never knew about to show up on my doorstep with a “LOL JK SURPRISE! you’ve actually got a huge cuddly family and we’re all gonna love the shit of you for the rest of your pathetic, lonely life whether you like it or not!” yeah fine, it’s a enormous improbability but damn it, can’t a girl dream? well, no because dreaming is useless its attainable. at some point, dreaming becomes and excuse for endless whining saturated in self pity, greed, and laziness. my dream is futile because the reality is im stuck right where i am. my mythical family does not exist and never will at any time, anywhere, ever. its just me, myself and i; it always has been and it will always will be. once i realized this, like truly internalized this, things became easier and i became stronger. by no means was this an overnight epiphany – its been many years of angsty depression and misanthropy, and i still sometimes catch myself daydreaming about getting swept back to that safe place that i’ve been so cruelly exiled from. but i know better than that. now i am attempting to operate within this darkness with some sense of clarity. im gaining somewhat of a morbid type of freedom, lingering somewhere between indifference and fearlessness – a strange balance of not caring about caring too much about not caring. i can only explain it as a fire burning through a hail storm. i am the fire. the rest of the world is the hail.
youre sucking me dry. i have no will to fight for something that makes me feel so empty when i leave
i should probably first tell you that i cant see my future with you. wait, its not that i dont want a future with you. its just that im usually disturbingly good at playing out the downfall of relationships in my head, but with you i cant see anything. with you, i cant foresee disaster like i normally do; i cant see past sex tonight, dinner tomorrow, or movie night next week…only the you and me of the here and now. i cant identify that one annoying tick ive been biting under my tongue that i know will eventually drive me to hate you. i dont see any potential clash of personalities, taboo topics, or irreconcilable values. im desperately trying to find some flaw in us that i can obsess over so i feel i have some control over my inevitable self-sabotage, but i keep drawing blanks. and this is a hauntingly blissful feeling. im terrified of not knowing what’s coming, but there is also a strange serenity to it. i dont know if you’ll be around tomorrow, but it almost doesn’t matter because the right now is fulfilling enough for me.
i also want you to know im ready for you to leave. i dont mean that i want you to, geez please dont ever. but you should know that im prepared for it when you decide to. something so delightful is bound to have an equally violent end and im fully equipped for taking the blow. every time i see you, i pretend its the last time and everyday i wake up, a part of me is expecting to never hear from you again. yes, its a morbid way to live, but its the only way i know how.