Sensation

What is it about touch that enthralls us so? The feeling of something coming in contact with out skin...be it silk to steel. Touch has the power to bring us out of the deepest reverie and observe the present in our vicinity once again--the gliding of silk over a wrist, the stroke of a finger on the shoulder, the tip of a blade tracing ribbons around the neck. Our sense of touch has the power to overwhelm us, to inspire joy or fear, lust or dread, depending on the context. What in one minute may seem the act of a murderer, the next is the caress of a lover.

It is all really just a play of power--power over others, and power over oneself. It is a matter of control, respect, domination, and shyness, all in one. A single touch can convey countless signals that no combination of words or glances could hope to get across. The concept itself is really rather enthralling and alluring. Diane Ackerman (fascinating author, I love her style) once wrote in her book An Alchemy of Mind, "Where does the self stop and the world begin? The body's limits are often explored. We learn early on about outside and inside, that we're apparently separate from the air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, the people we love. We learn that only on rare occasions can we enter into another person's body: as lover, doctor, nurse, shaman, mortician, fetus." The concept of that is fascinating. We are so separate from the rest of humanity, from other human beings, that every contact with them is precious, fragile, and the transience of it makes it that much more so.

One of my favorite questions used to be (and still is), "do you regret life being too short to try everything?" My own answer to it has always been that of course I don't...I don't regret anything, but especially not that. My original reasoning was that if life was long enough for us to try everything, we'd never really have to choose what was important. As it stands, my personal philosophy has changed a bit since the day I initially answered that question, but the logic behind it remains. I think the way one of my old teachers put it really expresses the concept best. He said, "If life was long enough to try everything, then nothing would be this precious. Because we only have so many moments, and we can only do so many things, each and every one of them becomes special and valuable." That thought has really stuck with me through the years. After all, life really is precious, we just don't take the time to appreciate that nearly as much as we should.

Eternal Balance

If you had to kill someone who you know (in person) who is aware of your existence and (most likely) knows your name, who would it be? And why?

Interestingly enough, people tend to have rather similar thoughts in deciding on an answer. Which murder would cause me the least pain? Which murder would be the best for society? Admittedly, those are valid points. But at the same time, there's one thing that all of them fail to consider: what right do we have who lives and who dies? What makes us feel like we are above that person enough to decide their fate? In answering this question, people tend to see themselves in the position of power, they feel that they must judge over the future of others.

So what's missing? The only people's lives that we are really qualified to judge the value of are our own. I know what my life is--I know the secrets, the shadows, the things that nobody else does. As terrible as a person may appear, I do not know what lies in the bottom of their heart, I cannot judge what the world would lose from their death. The only person with whom I could judge that outcome would be myself. So yes, in answer to the above question of whom I would kill...myself. Simple, concise, no hesitation.

The argument may be made that one does not know the impact that their death will have on those around them, or that there are criminals and mass murderers who would be much better off dead, particularly than someone like me. But at the same time, I can't judge human lives. If I was religious, I would say that only a god (or the god, depending on the religion) would have that right. As it stands, I am not religious so I make no such claim. Regardless, I'm not willing to raise myself on a platform that far above humanity. I'm not saying that to be overly righteous or humble, although it likely as not appears that way, but I'm making the statement merely from the perspective that I do not have the right to judge the value of people's lives. So it makes me wonder whether in answering that question people merely do not consider that standpoint, or if they look at it but decide against it for one reason or another.

Pause

What would it be like to control time? To have infinite power over the instants that govern our lives? If it were up to me, I would freeze this moment forever, like the one song on your playlist you actually want stuck in your head. Click the pause button, the melody still in your thoughts. This sensation, this blend of anticipation and agony...so interesting, so mysterious. The sensations coursing through my body and mind right now leave me reeling. It's a ravishing adoration of the human capacity for life.

These past five days have given me the time I need to think, and although I have not conclusively figured anything out at all and have perhaps wandered into a deeper fog than I was in before, I have reached a euphoria that cannot be understood; nor do I want it to be. The variety swirling around me is incredible, my thoughts are lost to me myself. It is one of those moods where you could ask me any question and I would tell the truth, fearless of consequences, risks, or any such results. In this moment, I would do the countless things of which I think but do not speak, step forward and take the lead rather than waiting for life to take me by the hand.

Right now, I have no inhibitions. I am all-powerful. Nothing can hurt me. It is not the invulnerability, either, which comes from being emotionally numb. I feel everything no less strongly than I would at any other time, I am no less affected by thoughts or emotions except for those that hold me back. Perhaps that comes with having End Transmission (AFI) stuck in my head for the past four days, or perhaps it is merely the fact of being away from that which is ordinary to me. Whatever it is, I am glad of it. I feel liberated, uncontrollably controlled. This maelstrom of emotion is not of the bad sort; it cleanses me with vibrancy and fills my lungs with a fresh breath of life.

If I could pause right now, I would. I want this moment to last. I don't want to move on to the next song of my emotions, I want this one to remain within me for now. I'm not sure what I want to happen while I feel like this, but it doesn't matter, and I'm fine with that. This mood has picked me up and is carrying me...I never want it to stop, not yet at least. Take me through a few more days, let me cling to this fascination for several more hours if no more than that. Nothing more matters...nothing. Reason has fallen into an empty space and I have been overtaken by emotion. Let this fearlessness last, let this power and strength continue for as long as it may...I love this sensation, words cannot express how much.

Tearing at the Heart

This is one of the hardest posts to write. I've been thinking all day, and not just about writing, but knowing that I have to write something pertaining to my thoughts. Maybe it's my current environment, maybe it's the full significance of recent (and not so recent) events, but today has not been easy. The mix of my emotions is overpowering, intoxicating, and I'm on the brink of tears not from one emotion in particular, but from a thousand different feelings fighting inside of me for expression or at least a sense of understanding.

It feels like my heart is being broken into countless tiny shards. I can't really think coherently, and I'm biting my [metaphorical] tongue in writing this to keep various phrases from spilling out that I know should never see the light of day. I'm confused, and I can't really figure things out. It's a matter of me struggling with my own inadequacies, weaknesses, uncertainties, and trying to understand human nature, emotion, and the compilation of that has left me powerless. My hands are trembling and I can't still my breath...I'm frustrated, and too afraid of every single action I take to allow myself to do anything at all.

I want to write so much, but I know I can't. I often say that I don't make assumptions or guesses, even though I do. I still say that though, to keep myself from getting hurt, to avoid taking the unnecessary risk of exposing my vulnerable thoughts and opinions to anyone. Yet at the same time, I expect other people to make the same conjectures that I'm not willing to. It's unfair, I understand that, but I am not at a point in my life right now where I can just let down my guard. So here's a disclaimer: I won't make you assume, I won't hold you to any assumptions, even the ones I lay out for you to make...but don't expect me to out and tell you anything, either. I'm sorry.

That wasn't necessarily directed at anyone in particular, I guess it was a general explanation to the world, or to all people as individuals; I'm not sure. The main problem here is that I don't want to get hurt (of course). If I was more willing to take the blow and deal with it, all of the solutions would be so much simpler, but that's not the way life works. Instead, here I am, trying to comprehend my emotions (more so than even my thoughts now) through black characters appearing at the habitual tapping of my fingers on the black keyboard before me. I'm stretched to extremes in several directions at once...I can feel the tightness in my jaw even when I consciously try to relax it, I'm worn thin with worry and thought.

Quite possibly, there is a simple solution to everything, with minimal pain for all involved, and that is moving to Mongolia and becoming a hermit in the mountains....um, no. But really, maybe it is all very simple, but human emotions cloud our judgement and don't allow us to see anything objectively like that--it's all subjective, confusing, impassioned. So I'm still here, complicating my situation, thinking convoluted thoughts about emotions and people. That doesn't really get me anywhere though, at least not right now when there's work to be done and people to continue life with. I don't want to put off these thoughts until it's too late and I've made another mistake, but right now it feels like I have no other choice. Now to multi-task between the work that needs my full attention and the confusing web of emotions that truly holds that attention...hoping, forever hoping that something will one day make sense.

Hindsight

Several years ago, on a show I was watching, I heard this quote addressed to someone in despair: "You're too young to not believe." At the time, it filled me with a sense of hope, a realization that life goes on, and a deeper appreciation of perspective. I still remember, years later, my younger self thinking about that quote and adding it to my metaphorical list of lessons learned. I'm not sure what made me remember it today, but here I am, thinking about it, trying to make sense of how much the meaning has changed over the past several years.

And I wish that I could believe that it was true, but I don't. I've been through too much, I've seen too much. I have experienced things and worried about things that nobody at my age should have ever had to have thought about. I shouldn't complain though. I put myself through everything that got me to the situation I'm in now, it's all based on the decisions I made in the past. But I'll throw this out as advice to anybody who is in the same situation that I was: don't. Just don't. Spare yourself the mistake. I don't regret any of it, but none of it should have happened, either. And because of that, I now live with the burden of consequences on my back every single day.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: we are responsible for all of our actions and decisions, they follow us for the rest of our lives. It may be something seemingly forgotten, but even now, a decision that I made six months ago today still haunts me, the words I said that finalized the choice still ring in my ears. I could blame it on the environment of the modern world, the expectations, the things we see in the media that influence our decisions...but I can't really do that because influences are influences, but the choice ultimately rested in my hands, and I made it. I made a mistake. Actually, I made many mistakes then, and I'm willing to flat out admit it. So did those around me, but I'm not accountable for them, I'm only accountable for myself and the consequences of my own decisions.

What's done is done. You can't undo the things you've done, and I've most certainly come to understand that in the past six months when it really began to hit me. Perhaps no less ironic, people I've talked to have said (and I still say it myself sometimes, but I try to watch it more now) that they want to do stupid things, make stupid decisions, have the experiences. And I sit and listen, and think about the mistakes that I've made and wonder if, given the chance, I wouldn't make them again, exactly the same way. But I doubt it, and I've already changed that in my life. I could have made even more mistakes in the past several months that I didn't let myself make because of the experiences I'd had in the past. Life may be more interesting if I had allowed myself to make those given decisions, but I'm glad I haven't, because I know now, I really know that it would have just gone downhill like it did in the past.

As cliche as it is, be careful what you wish for. You never know where it will lead you or how it will all end. And some experiences are probably not worth the pain. Mistakes will be mistakes, all you can do is move on and learn from them, although it's infinitely easier, if less eventful, to avoid them as much as you can. But that's life...risk is fun, the consequences are not.

Minds Discuss

"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." --Eleanor Roosevelt

If that's the case, then what does this make us all? Be it individuals or humanity or groups of people, we all discuss each of these in part, all on different occasions, in different companies, with different circumstances. And I'll be honest (as I try to be in all of my posts)--I spend most of my time discussing people. Does this qualify me as possessing a "small mind?" I dare to disagree, partially out of my own pride, but also because it's not that simple. The way I discuss people is that I try to understand the circumstances behind their decisions, the reasons for their actions, the thoughts that are ultimately the basis for their lives. Does this enter into the realm of ideas and thus register as the thought of a "great mind?" That's where this evidence seems to point, and yet I find myself entirely dissatisfied with this system of determination.

Perhaps then it is the fundamental idea of the quote that I disagree with. I guess it makes sense that the entire system of sorting people into three distinct categories based on what they discuss is what dissatisfies me first and foremost, then of course the matter of not taking into account the circumstances of why they discuss what they do. Or maybe it really comes down to the fact that it is yet another judgement passed by individuals who are not fully informed. We all do it, and yet we all still despise it--people making up their minds based on first impressions, or without a full understanding of the situation.

I could in theory now divulge on a rampage about human nature and passing judgement, but I rather doubt that it's a new concept or needs to be further ranted about, so I'll avoid that and instead turn my writing in another direction, one that I have been meaning to take for a while, but have never quite gotten around to, since I'm not sure that it merits its own post: the general concept of what I write here. So far, I've tried to write at least one post every day, and as far as subject matter goes, I've written what I've felt...if something was on my mind, if an interesting thought strayed into my head, I wrote about it. I've tried to let myself be rather free on the format, although I guess I have consistently been keeping to paragraphs, and I've kept to my word as far as writing the truth.

On the other hand, there are certain things which I would have loved to write but couldn't, for one reason or another. There are still secrets that I keep, even from the writing that I let spill onto my screen every day. Interestingly enough, I tend to write posts like the beginning of this one--something with a quote, or something disjointed from my own life--when these very secrets are the most on my mind, when things I wish to write are pressing and yet I know that they are things I must avoid. That brings me back as well to why I actually bother to write, knowing that few if any bother to read. Perhaps it is hope that someone does read and does care, or possibly because it's an effective way of organizing my thoughts, a commitment that makes me take the time to evaluate my thought processes and take time out of my day to make sense of it all.

As naive and falsely hopeful as the concept is, I want to change the world, I want to alter people's lives. Whether it's by staying up all night at the side of a friend who needs me or writing something for anyone to find and possibly gain an inkling of inspiration or satisfaction from, I don't want to just live through my life as though nothing matters. I may be an existentialist, but I am not a pessimist. Certainly nothing in life will matter after we all die, and it won't affect me after I myself die, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try to make the time that I do have on this world more worthwhile for myself or others. I hope that I am able to write things the way that I have read some--powerful, beautiful, true, emotional. That is my aspiration. I have been affected and changed by things that I have read, not only books, but also people's own stories, whether online or written out in an email. I can only try to emulate that sort of passion in my own words, but I'm certainly willing to do that. Some of my posts will inevitably be more meaningful and deeper than others, some may be a very obvious attempt to distract my mind from certain subjects, and still others may be inspirational to some and downright disagreeable to others. I won't let that affect me. So as I wrap up this long and meandering post, I'll simply say that I love writing what I do, I love taking the time out of my day to do this, whether it is appreciated or not, I need not know; I'm happy to do this for the sake of writing in itself.

Grasping at the Mist

I miss being in love. I miss the rush of emotions, the secret smiles, the fluttering heartbeat that comes with wanting one specific person. I don't miss relationships, I don't miss the messes that come with break-ups or petty fights, nor the necessary commitment to someone because of a title and a label that placed you as part of a "couple." What I really miss is the ecstasy, the sheer passion of just wanting to be with someone, no restrictions, no rules, just a desire in the bottom of your heart, the ache that makes you want to see someone, even exchange a simple "hi" with them, nothing more.

Being in love is being able to forget about everything else in the world. The closest I am to love right now is this blog--it's the truth, not hidden, it's my emotions, plain on my face, it's an expression of my desires and my celebration in the thoughts of my mind. I miss waking up with someone's name on my lips causing me to smile, having one person I want to tell everything to after I see something interesting, the skip in my heart when I see that someone has logged on to AIM, hoping they will talk to me. Maybe it's the sensation of anticipation or the longing for an intimate companion who I can trust, but I miss having one person on my mind and only one person.

There is a difference between love and relationships...there are no rules in love, it works the way it does and that's what makes it so beautiful, precious, liberating, and wonderful. As soon as love gets labeled as a relationship, there are restrictions, obligations, rules to follow, and that leads to things falling apart. One of my favorite quotes on the subject is, "People tend to ask too many questions in love, and once you begin really wanting to know the answers, love is on its way out." This quote is from The Night in Lisbon, by Erich Maria Remarque, definitely one of my favorite authors. I highly recommend his books...but anyway, that's not the point of this, so back on topic now. When I read that book, I didn't really understand that quote, I was in a relationship at that point, and I was happy with it, and I wasn't thinking much about it falling apart. Then when it ended, I went back and looked at the quote and suddenly it made perfect sense--everything had worked just fine until we tried to rationalize the irrational, to quantify the unquantifiable essence of love, to pick it to pieces and understand the way it worked.

I don't want answers, I don't want specifics. I want a mystery to be in, I want the sort of love where no questions are ever asked and no answers are ever given. Where glances tell the tale, but the dialog is left up to each party to decide for themselves. This quality tends to last through the beginning of love, when people are just beginning to fall for each other, and everyone is too afraid of making a mistake, so they tread around it carefully...sneaking glances, hiding smiles, playing simple games. Maybe what I really miss is falling in love. Either way, I long for that elusive happiness that comes with an incomprehensible attraction, complete with fluttering heart and quivering lips.

Resistance

Don't hold me up now,

I can stand my own ground,

I don't need your help now,

You won't let me down, down, down.

Those are lyrics from Prayer of the Refugee (Rise Against), which I currently have stuck in my head. Lately, a friend has characterized my taste in music as having moved from soft and sentimental to dark and depressing. She may have a point in that, and my taste in music has definitely changed over the past couple of months, tending toward the more negative end of the emotional spectrum. That fits my life right now, though.

Actually, the lines I wrote above really work for my exact mindset right now. It reflects my annoyance with people's excessive involvement in my life. And then again, the entire song has a sense of individual strength, standing, the power of one's own will. I've tried re-writing the next sentence about five times now, and I really can't express what I mean. There's a certain essence of the song that appeals to me, an authoritative edge, a reflection of my own thought processes that gets it stuck in my head.

So now, there's a five-day break only several hours away from me. And after only 6 hours of sleep at the very end of the past 48 hours, a pause in life may be nice. But at the same time, I don't want it to just be a pause, I want to make something of it. I want to take advantage of that time and do something, improve myself, add something to my life. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm done just letting things happen to me, it doesn't work. I'm in control of my life, and I'm not just letting decisions go until they are made for me. This is my decision, I'm making the conscious choice to take opportunities that appear to me in the next five days, to fill my time with something productive and useful. Certainly this motivated mood will not last, but while my mind is still filled with music, my thoughts moved with the passion of life, I'll make the most of it.

Strength

Nothing makes one want life, more than death. Seeing death, hearing about it, thinking about it, plotting it. It makes one fight that much harder to avoid it. There is a certain beauty in the contradiction of it all, a sense of accomplishment in the failure. When death is at stake…that’s when we really begin to live. It’s not just because we sense life drawing to a close, but because suddenly, the fog has been blown from our eyes, we can see everything that had been missing to that point. We have a reason to live, to fight on through the torrential hells life throws at us along the way.

We joke about it all we want, we throw out the words “kill” and “suicide” as if they were no more than children’s games, but when it comes down to the reality, the true meanings of those words and the sheer power they symbolize…the laughter stops dead at our lips. When we know that we’re treading that line, when we know that a life is at stake, that makes us fight on, that makes us work harder. It shows us the value of everything the world might be about to lose. Suddenly, it’s no longer a joke.

The nights when you stay up all night for a friend who needs you, the hours you give up of your own time for someone else, that’s when it all becomes real. There’s a certain perspective about sitting up at ridiculous hours of the morning, comforting someone through their troubles that you don’t just forget. Maybe it’s not a common thought on an everyday basis, maybe it only comes up very rarely. But at the very core, that is the true test of friendship—being there when someone needs you, being willing to make the sacrifice because they need you more than you need yourself. It sheds a new light on life that makes one realize more and more the convoluted fragility and resilience of the human existence.

Crossing the Line

How far is too far? Why is there always an invisible line in life that we can't cross for one reason or another? So here I am, sitting next to my friend, past midnight, who is up to work and is instead writing a document on her depression. I can see every single word, although she tried to angle the screen away from me. And I know exactly what she means. Yet I don't do anything. I let her sit there, and I know the exact pit she's falling into because I've fallen in before, but I still can't bring myself to help her, to say anything.

I'm here, if she wants to yell, to scream, to shout. I'm here if she does something stupid. I've given up all of the sleep that I need tonight and any work that I need to get done to sit next to her and worry about what's happening in her life. But I'm not saying a word to anyone. Nor will I at any point in the near future. At the same time, I can't help but wonder how much of doing that is too much, how long I can try to stay in control before I lose it and we both fall out of stride with life. Because as she's going down, I'm holding on and trying to stop her, but at the same time, I'm descending further in, too.

This week--the few days before today, and for a few days after...it's hell. It's torturing everyone surrounding me, and as a result, me. Two nights in a row now, I'm up later than I should be, would be, want to be, because I'm talking to people, trying to sort through the mess that has come to pass lately and that will hopefully clear up soon. So when is it too much? When do I do something before she ruins herself? Where is the line I need to guide me?

That line is in my head, it's there somewhere, but I need to find it, to redefine it before I let another mistake come to pass. I hear complete silence except for our synchronized typing, both of us writing because we need to, no longer because we want to, bound to this eternal concoction of despair that is slowly engulfing our world. Of course, I hear the occasional breath...my own steady and slow rhythmic transfer of air, or her airy, choking sighs. This is the world around me right now. These simple noises, this simple room. Nothing else exists. The fact that I have to be awake at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning (or should I say today) doesn't matter. It's about the here and the now.

Life really is about the moments, and this is one of those times when I really begin to realize it. No matter how much sleep I do or do not get tonight, it doesn't compare to what may happen if I'm not here for her in the next several hours. That's what it all comes down to. So as I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and pause for a minute, I'm getting ready to put myself through the hell that the next two days will bring. Here goes nothing.

End

Maybe I've finally broken. Or at the least I've had a breakdown. Five minutes ago, I was in the corner of my room, choking back tears, not letting anyone else see them. Now, I'm blasting music as loudly as my computer will let me, and yes, this time I do have headphones on...I feel my head being numbed by the sound already, and after a few hours of this, I can probably expect to lose my hearing, or something approximating that sensation. I guess I've been brought to my breaking point. Because I can't do anything right now except for pounding frantically at my keyboard, choking back the emotions threatening to escape. Of course I've wiped the tears away so that you'd think they were never there...again.

So suddenly it all comes back together--even words from the titles of my blogs: pouring, vulnerable, blade, used, tear, obsession, faltered. Yes, it's all come together. Come together to the point where I'm ready to jump off the metaphorical edge. There are two days that I need to function through. That's two days for me to make major mistakes, to wreak hell in my life, to bring everything crashing down about my ears. And right now, I'm up for it. Right now, I'm just about willing to give up any sense of reason I have left and get carried away by everything I've kept locked away.

I want to run away and tear everything down, throw down all the pieces, the nonsense that's keeping me caged in. I can't do this anymore, I won't. It's too much. I can imagine just how I look right now, like the pathetic huddled figure of someone who isn't capable of dealing with their own life, trying to fill the internet with hopeless, pathetic cries of agony and weakness. Yeah, that's me. Now walk away. Don't talk to me, don't look at me, leave me alone. The only thing that's holding me here right now is...well, I don't really know. Maybe I'll be able to figure that out at some point, but it's really not looking like that is the case right now.

So I guess this title is appropriate. It's definitely the end of something. What it's the end of...only the end of the next 48 hours will bring...what hell or lack thereof I will unleash upon my own pathetic floundering mind in this world, I don't yet know. Even writing this, I know I'm not likely to do anything, which in a way makes me want to do more. So what's it going to be? The world isn't all or nothing, but it's nothing short of pathetic if we try to settle for anything in between. The bomb has been dropped. Now all that's left to see is the blast. I'm waiting.

Tendrils of Shadow

Every day of our lives is spent balancing indecision. We stare at a phone for ten minutes and wonder whether we should dial the number or not. We look into the refrigerator, trying to figure out what morsel we want to fill our stomach and satisfy a simple biological need. Whether we like it or not, our lives are chock-full of choices. So here we sit, trying to figure out in which direction we should lay out our futures, wondering how the next instant will change everything that happens from this point forward.

What is it about life that gives it that quality of preciousness? We all possess one life...to have or to lose. What happens in that life doesn't really matter. It all ends anyway. Certainly where it ends or how is different, but there's no significance in something once it is gone. Unless, of course, you take the religious standpoint, which I don't. So why do things even matter? Why do we agonize over everything that happens when ultimately, it won't make the slightest change in the world for ourselves or for others? And yet somehow we drag it all out.

Sometimes we try to create a meaning for ourselves. We say that we live for people, we live for moments, we live for emotions. I've been through all of those, and convinced myself (with limited success, in most cases) that this was my reason for living. But when we really get down to it, there is no reason for us to live. There is absolutely no force behind us keeping us going. It's all down to ourselves. While the world around us may push or pull, and fill us with sensations and emotions, we have nobody but ourselves to live for, nobody but ourselves to blame for our lives, and nobody but ourselves to continue fighting for.

And yet saying that we live for ourselves is in itself rather naive. What does it mean to live for oneself? It's back to being nothing short of just getting through life, surviving, making it through it all day after day. I don't know why I do it, but I continue to, regardless. I've often said that it's only because death would require some amount of effort on my part, because life has become habit and changing that would take work...so it's easier to just go with it, continue moving through the stream of perpetual occurrences. But that's not entirely true. In a way, I live to see what will happen next, to see what I can experience. I'm given this time in this body, this situation, so I might as well make the most of it. Whether that's the best way to look at it or not, I have no clue...but it's worked well enough for me to this point, so I keep going with that mindset. When it stops working, I'll move on to something else...it just tends to work that way.

I want a conversation...about life, about death, about meaning, hopelessness, futility--those very things that seem to drive us to our actions and decisions. I don't want to think the same thoughts again and again like I have been; I want a challenge to my opinions, I want a reason to fight for what I believe. Perhaps most fascinating is the sheer depth of the topic...the submersion into the fundamental motivations which govern our lives. This is how we live, buried in our secrets, hiding the truths we believe, because we fear the fragility of life itself. Irony is oh so beautiful, is it not?

Regression

Yes, this is my third post today. Yes, there is a reason for it. Here I am again, playing spider solitaire, not being able to get my work done, blasting music as loudly as my computer will go. I'm almost tempted to put on headphones so that the volume becomes unbearable, but I haven't done so yet (although I'll probably reach that stage in about an hour). So why am I writing so much? Because I'm not talking about it. I refuse to talk about it. It shows my weakness, it makes me a burden to everyone around me, and it just adds to the hell wreaking chaos in my mind right now.

So instead of ruining everyone's day around me, I'm just typing...more and more and more, hoping that if enough words appear on my screen, the feeling will have sunken through my body entirely and be gone. But I know that's not going to happen. I'm curled up under my covers, taking deep breaths and choking back emotion. As usual, it doesn't work. It's here again...depression. More irregular now than before, but oh so much worse. Because before I never had any serious reasoning behind it, it was always petty misery and the winter. Now I have to carry the burden of my mistakes and failures on my shoulders, I have to try to suppress the bitter agony that I feel when I realize I haven't come to terms with anything.

I have regressed. Instead of getting better, I've gotten worse. I'm back to trying to avoid the world, to hold everything in and keep it bottled up, hoping for a miracle to allow me to escape this hole in the world. I just fell off the edge of the cliff and I'm still trying to get back on. I'm struggling against the power of my own depression, I'm fighting all of the things I've kept back that are starting to catch up to me, and I know that I cannot survive this flood the way I am. I'm a mess...emotionally, mentally...I don't know. It's all fallen apart. And I guess it's good it's a weekend, because if it wasn't I would have probably already broken into tears in the middle of something important and not only cracked my shield but buried myself much deeper in the hole than I have at present. Maybe I'm not getting anything done, but I don't care.

I don't want to be here anymore. There's nothing for me in this moment. And yes, I do realize the bitter contradiction between that statement and one of my previous posts about learning to see the beauty in every moment, but right now, I just don't see it. I want someone to help me, to show me. But I know that if anyone took the time to actually care about the mess I am right now, I would only hate myself more for ruining the day of someone who was actually enjoying it. Perhaps no less ironic: to everyone involved, I appeared to be having a perfectly good day. Even I almost believed it at one point.

But I wasn't. I've spent the day trying to fight back memories and emotions, struggling to stay afloat through the monsoon of failure that engulfed me today. I can't keep going this way, but here I am, pulling myself through it, hoping to survive through the weekend, then through the next five days, then through the next weekend, until I can finally get up and start moving forward again. Right now, it hurts too much, so I've curled up within myself, avoiding anyone and anything. I don't want to be saved, I want to fall through the earth right now, I want to feel myself sink down into nothing as I feel the pit of agony broaden in my stomach. I can't bring myself to live right now. It's as simple as that.

Used

Thinking back on the post I wrote earlier today, I realized that I had not once used the word "used" in it. It was in my mind the entire time, because it went along with the concept, but I did not once put it down. So I guess that's the trail I'll take right now, because the thought is still weighing on me, and I'm not much capable of finishing any work while that's still over my head to the extent it is.

Most everyone I've ever gotten really close to, close enough to really trust them, ended up just using me. I've been used physically, mentally, and emotionally. And after several years of that, it's really not worth it anymore. It's never been as extreme as it has been in the past year and a half, and the extremity of that has worn me thin. I'm not willing to put myself out there to be used anymore. That's another part of the reason I won't risk being hurt, because being used like I have been is too much, it has worn me to a point where I don't know that I can feel better about it.

All the lies that I've been fed...the lies that led me to be used and left in a metaphorical rut at the end...every last one of them that I believed because I wanted to hope that people were good enough to be trusted, to not just use me, and to actually respect me. To think that I was so naive...it's sad. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. I've been hurt too many times, my trust has been betrayed too many times, and I have been used too many times to ever go back to the way it was before. It's over. The old me that was open has crumbled to pieces leaving the frail soul mere moments from death cowering behind the front of diamond, putting on the show of strength that I have learned so well.

Few who know me would actually imagine just how much my life is falling apart, because whenever someone is depressed and needs support, I'm there for them...I talk for hours and let them cry on my shoulder no matter whether I have hours of work left to do or if I'm two seconds from breaking into tears myself...I let people rant at me, yell, scream, cry, no matter how I feel about it. And I'm not saying that it isn't "fair," because I'm not asking for fairness, it's not a tendency of life to be such...but this is exactly why I'm never open to people at this point except when I am at the brink of cracking, and even then I don't ever come near to the true extent of my emotions. So when my ex decides to ask me for help, I offer it...I set aside the fact that this is the person who has made me miserable, who has spread my secrets like seeds throughout the world to be mocked and scorned, yes...I still help because I've been asked to do so.

I don't even want anybody to help me anymore. I don't necessarily want to be left alone, but I don't want to be used at this point, because that's something I really can't deal with. I can't be this tool any longer, I just can't. The number of times that people have used me has made me unwilling to even try to be bold again. In a way, I have been beaten down to a point of defeat, but that is something that I will never admit. So here I am, waiting for time to pass because I don't have the strength to act anymore...leaning against the front that I have put so much effort into constructing, the facade that I will not let people get past ever again. I hope that one day, I will be able to break that vow, but right now, it is beyond my capacity.

Vulnerable

Last year, spider solitaire was my drug of choice. When I was tired, upset, didn't want to do work, wanted to cry...I'd play it. It was the solution to everything. Then this year I switched over to minesweeper. And again, whenever I needed to think or avoid work, I'd play it. Then a couple of days ago, I went back to playing spider solitaire. It brought back a minor wave of memories, the way the smell of a certain perfume sometimes does, or the crisp winter air. So here I was, five minutes ago, playing spider solitaire when I figured something out:

I have trust issues.

I don't trust people anymore. I've been hurt too many times to allow anyone to really see my vulnerability. I've become a closed shell to the world. The few things I do allow to slip out are always minor and never reflect the true significance of my thoughts or emotions. I've kept secrets and the trust of anybody who has ever asked me to, and even those who didn't when I felt it wisest to keep my peace. And every single time I opened up to someone, my confidence has been shattered. Everyone I ever trusted broke that trust, shared with the world things that they had promised to keep locked away.

That's why nobody has seen me break down, nobody has seen me cry in years. It's happened enough, but I refuse to let anybody into that. I've been hurt too many times before...I've been thrown down and trampled over more times than I could or care to recall. never once have I been able to unconditionally trust someone and be sure that that trust holds, even though I hold every single secret that I have been entrusted with, no exceptions. Even people I don't talk to anymore, don't get along with...all of the secrets they told me, all of the "blackmail material" I have on them, I'm not going to share it with the world, although enough of them have done just that to me and spread the messes of my life, which I had trusted them to keep secret, with absolutely no regards for me.

So I've learned my lesson from that, and I just don't open up to the world anymore. Even when it seems like I do and I am vulnerable, that's not the half of my emotion. I've learned to live with an iron fence around the truth. And I'm not willing to let anybody get beyond it. Nobody will have so much as a glance. Because getting hurt as badly as I have been isn't worth it. I've spent months recovering and I'm still not okay. I don't know when I will be okay again, if ever. I know how to function in life just fine, I know how to get through things in my current state, but that's not the same thing as really being alright. But too much has happened, too many things have gone wrong, for me to trust anybody the same way ever again. I keep secrets from everybody and even the small things I'm oftentimes not willing to say.

Sometimes I just wish that somebody would respect me enough, as a human being, to keep my secrets, to not toss my trust carelessly over their shoulder. And I assume that there are people who are good enough to do that, but at this point, I'm not willing to risk it. That is one chance I refuse to take, because I never want to be hurt that badly again. If I do get hurt, then I do, but I will do everything I can to avoid it. I don't know if it's comprehensible just how affected I have been by this, and I don't know if it's at all clear just how vulnerable I am or how strong the barrier I have put up is, but I'm not writing this lightly, and I don't feel lightly about it at all. I've realized just how many problems I have right now, and not being able to trust people is one of them. I'm trying to work thought it, I'm trying to get back to my life...but it's a slow process, and it's not easy, and I'm still not willing to trust anybody enough to really get close enough to help.

Small Wonders

Isn't it just incredible how it's always the smallest things that can make everything work? How the most minute occurrences are the ones that really bring joy and the delight of laughter? It's beautiful how you can be having a terrible day, a headache, and be under a load of stress, and with the smallest thing in the world be able to enjoy life again. Sometimes that little thing is all we need to really remind us why life is worthwhile.

For the past two days, that is exactly what has happened to me. Both yesterday and today, I was not in the best of moods...and then such small things happened and I couldn't help but laugh and smile. It really is incredible--the power of detail. We always say, "it's just details," but in reality, without details, there is nothing. It's the minutia that we really live for, the small moments when we feel truly alive for seemingly no good reason at all. And that's what makes it all so beautiful--the sheer insignificance yet power of such things.

The world is a beautiful place, sometimes we just have to remember how to look around us and find the hidden treasures. Like good players in a game of hide-and-seek, the most beautiful things are hidden in plain sight yet so well that only the most meticulous and experienced of observers will be able to distinguish them from the surroundings. Every time we're down, every time we feel afraid, remorseful, exhausted...we need to remember to really look around ourselves, to take a minute to appreciate the beauty of our world. After all, if not for the precious moments of this world, what else could we possibly live for?

Consequences

I was walking today, thinking about the past, thinking about life, thinking about mistakes, and all the usual depressing, existentialist, or otherwise curious thoughts that come with that. And suddenly it just hit me:

I have to live with the consequences of the decisions I made every day of my life.

Everything that happened half a year ago, all of the things I hadn't even thought about then...and now I'm dealing with it. I never really thought before about just how much I am affected by certain things. But what it really comes down to is that every single day, without exception, the decisions I made in the past play a major role in the way things turn out for me, the way I view people, and the further decisions I make.

Life isn't a game. While I realized it before, and understood that actions have consequences and such, it never really hit me until now. Because suddenly I know what it means to live with the consequences of a decision. I know how it feels when people turn to look at you and you know exactly what they're thinking of you. I know what it is to never be able to get back what you had in the past because you made the not-so-wise decision to walk away from it. No, I do not regret any of it, but yes, I would do it differently if it were offered to me again.

This has made life more real to me. Before, the consequences were the anger of friends or family and the temporary loss of opportunity. Now, there's a bigger impact, and I'm beginning to really understand it. And those consequences don't only apply to people's opinions and the external world, they also apply to me. My personality has changed as a result of the actions I have taken, I have acted differently because of what has happened in the past.

It's never easy to just see the consequences of an action laid out into the future, but the awareness of their presence adds to a more thorough understanding of the responsibility for oneself. This isn't really a guarantee against mistakes in the future, but it is definitely a more thorough realization of consequences. It's interesting to think that despite having thought that I understood the concept for years, it never really made complete sense until now...until I had undergone something that I could not have envisioned a year ago.

Edge of the Blade

So here I am, walking on the edge of a blade, not going to one side or the other, walking on my toes to keep from falling. Sometimes it seems like half the time my life is just an attempt not to fall. And yet somehow that works for me. I don't know how, I don't know why, but it does. I love the anticipation, the danger, the risk. Part of that is that life hasn't always been challenging enough or interesting enough...so I walk the edge of a knife, back and forth, and suddenly it becomes more fascinating. Suddenly, I can get hurt if I fall, so I have a real reason to fight for it, a real reason to stay on and try not to get hurt.

Of course, sometimes things don't really go as planned--I fall off, I hurt myself, I get cut. Then it's all the more reason for me to stand back up on the edge and learn a new dance. The greater the risk, the greater the rewards. I don't just walk the blade, I dance...I throw my arms around wildly, fling myself in all directions, challenge gravity, toss myself in defiance further off balance, waiting for the fight that inevitably comes with trying not to fall. I live for those moments--when everything is falling around me, when I want nothing more than to curl up in a corner and die...that's when I really thrive. Because then I learn what I really am capable of, I see the true power of life, I really feel, really fight.

And I've been waiting for that moment of getting thrown off lately, and it hasn't come. There have been times when I've been close, but nothing has really challenged me. So I'm still waiting, watching for something to throw me off balance. I want the power taken away from me. I want to be pinned against a wall. I want to have to fight for something. Nothing can even begin to come close to my passion for those moments. There's something so pure and beautiful about having all the power taken away from you, something that brings out the truth, the raw, hard beauty of existence.

I love that more than almost everything in the world. Perhaps worse, I know that some of the major mistakes I've made have come from a desire to feel powerless, to be pushed and have to exert everything I have. Of course, this time around, I think I won't be nearly as foolish about that, and I rather doubt I'll let myself get carried away by my endless fascination for such sensations. But who knows? Maybe I'll make another mistake while I'm at it...the irony of realizing and accepting that fact is quite amusing as well, alas I'll see where life takes me now.

In case it was (or wasn't) noted, I'll clarify that the feeling of powerlessness is not only one of power, but also one of passion. It is sensual, it is emotional, it is nothing short of lust. That may be taken as it will, but this is the truth--I love a good challenge, however it may be that life chooses to throw it at me...and if I find it worthwhile, I will risk everything to pursue it. Try me.

Pouring Down

There's something about pouring rain that has the tendency to make everything feel better. It washes all of the dirt that's built up between storms, it lets everything run free, it releases all of the anger and ferocity of nature in one beautiful swoop. Standing in a thunderstorm as winds whip around you and rain pours from the sky like there's no tomorrow is one of the most incredible feelings in the world.

Everything about rain is amazing, from the cleansing power of water washing over everything, to the sheer chaos and power of a storm. This is why I wish it would pour. Pouring rain has a power about it that's full of bittersweet emotion for me. A bit of nostalgia mixed with desire, combined with hope, power, freedom, agony...that's how I feel in the pouring rain, but more than that, I feel pure, raw, liberating emotion. Not the "feelings" we talk about when we're upset by something or the mild joy we feel at an accomplishment, but something real, something truly substantial, and powerful.

I guess that nothing really compares to the real release of emotion that sometimes just needs to happen. On a similar note, I figured out that writing is my escape. I don't have to hide anything...even if the same people who read it see me every day in my life, I'm still a different person. It's just like Fight Club (great book and movie, by the way)...the person writing this is a different person than the one who walks around every day and talks about books, movies, or ideas in everyday life.

In a way, this has made it easier to wake up every morning. Even as my heart skipped a beat as my alarm went off, even as the lack of desire for the day to commence settled in, there was the prospect of something different. In a way this is my second identity. I don't speak the way I write...it's not as fluid or as honest as this, by any means. That in itself makes life more interesting. I spend time, instead of staring off into space, thinking of what I should write for the day, looking into myself and pondering my emotions. In that way, this has been not only a release for my thoughts, but also a chance to grow and understand more of whatever I may find. And I'm most certainly taking that opportunity...because I'm done letting things stand in my way.

Fields of Wheat

So today's earlier post was more about random ramblings of my mind--more or less me trying to keep myself from thinking about some things and working hard to concentrate on others. But now I'll change that around a bit and post something that I actually feel is relevant to my life now. Just a brief disclaimer: I'm tired right now, and there's a lot going on, so this may or may not come out the way I imagine it in my mind...actually it probably won't, but that's alright.

At this moment, I just want to walk into the middle of a field of wheat stretching for miles and miles, and lie down in the middle. Nobody would see me, nobody would know I'm there...only if you looked at the strange and faint, barely noticeable depression in the middle of the field would you realize that anything at all was anywhere but where it should be. Pure isolation. In the middle of nowhere. Where the passage of time is measured only by the movement of the sun against the sky and the shadows of the wheat over my face.

Because right now, the last thing I want to deal with is people. I'm willing to talk to them, I'm willing to help them with their problems, but at the same time, I just want to pull away from the world. I just want everything to disappear...or rather, I want to disappear. Things are falling apart, I can't keep anything straight, and I'm exhausted. Or maybe I'm just laying the blame in places where it should not fall and am not capable of dealing with the messes I got myself into...yeah, there most certainly are enough of those to figure out.

And while I don't want to be a burden to people, I just wish somebody would see this, would say something...no, I don't want words. I want someone to do something. I want somebody to know how to make me feel better, if only on occasion. But every time someone manages to do that for me, it always turns out to be a mistake. Every single time, it's turned into a mistake that I look back on and bury my face in my hands because of. That's what it feels like my life has been lately; mistake after mistake after mistake. And here I am, making more mistakes as I go, and I'm completely aware of them, too...but I just don't have the strength to stop them anymore.

Maybe all I need is a little bit of help to get through it all, but whether I'm not willing to reach out for it or if people aren't willing to take my hand, it's not working right now. So here I am, feeling the dread pit of depression appearing in my stomach again, afraid that maybe this time will be the time I crack. Yes, I am afraid. Here I am, look into my eyes and see the fear staring back at you if you dare. But then again, don't bother...because I don't want your pity or your sympathy, I don't want any of it. I'll glare scornfully back at you and silently plead that either you really help me or forget you ever saw anything that I may not be able to hide.

This is my empty declaration to the world. Find me if you dare. I won't say anything if you don't, and I'll probably curse you if you try. Really, I'm offering you an empty journey. Maybe I'm just hoping that somebody will read this and finally understand. But until then, I'll be entertained by the bitter irony of my own demise and calmly stand back, watching myself fall over the edge. Because really, what could be more exhilarating than watching the world crumble to pieces...beautiful in the most terrible of ways, is it not? And this is why I love the twisted chaos of life.

Shed a Tear

"No pain, no gain."

How many times have people said that? I've heard it relating to everything from fashion to sports to relationships to all-nighters. But does it really hold true? Does everything in life have to hurt us and push us down a little bit more? It's become one of those cliches that people say without even thinking at this point. So I want to figure out what it does actually mean.

I don't know that the phrase was meant to be literal. Certainly, in some senses like sports it applies--if you don't push yourself until you feel like you are breathing fire with every step at the end of a ten-mile run, you're not going to get better, if you aren't willing to work through the searing buildup of lactic acid in your muscles from yesterday's swim, you're never going to actually make any real progress. So in that case, it does apply. But on the other hand, the women who use that statement as an excuse for wearing ridiculously painful 5-inch stiletto strappy sandals have really crossed the line of reason and entered the realm of foolishness. Because really, the pain of wearing shoes that destroy your feet or undergoing hour-long hair-treatment sessions is most definitely not giving you any gain...actually, it's more likely to lead to further problems in the future.

Of course, the statement is probably meant to take a rather milder stand. Something along the lines of, "If you're not willing to test your limits, you'll never be able to transcend them." Well, that I actually agree with. And going past one's limits can definitely lead to a lot of pain...but it doesn't have to. If a musician selects a piece above their difficulty level to prepare for a recital and isn't ready to perform it when the date rolls around, they're not going to be in serious pain. Nothing will happen physically, and although they may be displeased, upset, or disappointed as far as emotions go...that's only a matter of how much they weigh upon themselves. For the most part, the gain will come from the possible mild embarrassment, but whether you can really attribute that to gain, I rather doubt.

Emotional pain, of course, may be on a different level. My ex once said, "the remorse shows it was worth being in the relationship..." I don't know that I agree with that exact quote, but there is a point to it. As far as relationships go (wow, this has become a really common topic for me lately), it's the ones that change and hurt us the most that we really learn the most from. But at the same time, the pain caused by a bad relationship is not necessary for a better understanding of anything. The best relationships of our lives can be the ones we learn the most from, even the ones that didn't end badly, because from there we figure out what makes us happy with another person, how to work through issues, and how to just move on with our lives.

So is pain a prerequisite to gain? Absolutely not. Sometimes it adds to our growth and comprehension of a particular situation, but that doesn't mean we can't learn without it. Pain won't necessarily solve anything or everything, suffering is not the solution...because sometimes we seem to think that if we go through a bit of hell, everything will be better. As a general rule, it won't. Sometimes we just have to suck it up and deal, but causing ourselves agony is never much use in life. If there's anything I've learned about life, that's one of the most important things right there.

Long-Awaited Change?

This coming weekend is going to be an interesting one. My friend's boyfriend is coming to visit, and he's apparently bringing one of his friends along too. Of course, my friend took it upon herself to make sure that this turns into a relationship or at least a one-night stand for me, but I rather find that to be wishful thinking. I have nothing against the prospect of a relationship, perhaps more against a one-night stand, because that's just one of those things I don't need right now, but the expectation that that's what will result from a meeting with a stranger is rather unrealistic, in my opinion.

So who knows where this is going to go. It's been rather a while since I've met anybody new, particularly anybody I'd really consider dating. Maybe this is the breath of fresh air I need in my life--in the form of a new friend at least, if nothing more. I think it's time for me to crawl out of my shell and start actually getting to know some more people, rather than hide within the same company I have been hanging out with for the past year.

Actually, the same people have started to wear on me a bit after all this time. Yes, it was a lot of fun getting to know them all, and we've had our share of fun nights, but by now I think that matters have changed to the point where I'm no longer as much a part of it all as I was before. I don't want to offend anyone, but it feels like some of the conversations this group of people has are just so...immature, I guess. Suddenly I find myself uninterested in the conversation taking place, wanting to be elsewhere, and wishing that the ceaseless banter about simple and cute topics would just end. And I don't find the cuteness of it that pleasant by now, either...it's gone from being amusing to just annoying, and some people I just don't want to be associated with at this point.

So I guess that things are changing and my life is taking its course in a different direction. Maybe this coming weekend will be the opportunity I need to get started on that change. Maybe I'll figure more out about myself and my life. And maybe, just maybe, I'll meet a new friend, or somebody else I can have interesting conversations with. I'm a bit mixed as far as nerves and excitement go, because it's been a while since I've met people I want to make a good impression on...so I guess I'll see what happens. Now there's something for me to look forward to through the tough week ahead. Who knows? But whatever happens, it's almost guaranteed to be rather interesting.

Moments

When we look back in time, we often say "wow, I changed so much over the past year." I do that often, I look back at the past and reflect on how much has happened, particularly in the space of the past year or so. And it's always interesting to notice, even if we were not previously aware of these changes, just what has happened to us in the course of that time--how much we have changed as people, how different our opinions have become, and how much more we went through over that time.

But when we really think about it, it wasn't the year that changed us, it was the moments within that year. Almost a year ago now, someone I know spent half an hour agonizing over whether to hang up on someone or not. And I just sat there, wondering how difficult that decision could possibly be--it's a phone, all it takes is the push of a button, the placement of a receiver back onto the hook. Now I understand. Because now, I've agonized over such painstakingly small decisions, realizing the exact impact that they may have on my life.

More than that, all of the bad choices and ill-advised decisions I can recall myself having made in the relatively recent past, all of them were made in a matter of seconds. Certainly I took far more than just those seconds to think about the choice, but ultimately, it was made in several seconds and set in my mind from that point on. Every mistake I made had a defining point, an instance that took mere moments of my life--but from those mere moments, my life was completely altered. I could trace some of the thoughts behind those decisions back several weeks or even months, but the decisions...no, those were made in the moment. No matter the influences, all it took was several seconds.

We underestimate the power that we have given to this entity that humankind has defined as time. It is absolutely relative, but that doesn't make it any less powerful in our lives. When we establish that mere moments have this much power, yet feel no qualms at letting another hour pass by in hapless absolution, we become further hypocrites, ignorant of our own system. Perhaps this is one of the flaws of humanity--establishing this system to give order to our lives, the entity of time, measuring the seconds which determine changes...and then disregarding it all to the best of our ability by squandering the precious moments we ourselves deemed as essential by dragging them out into hours of futility.

Yes, I am a hypocrite. I did just criticize all of humanity for doing the very thing I do for large portions of my day. And I could now just leave it at that, having considered the thought, just move on with my life from here. But I'm not going to. In light of my recent inspiration to not just let things come along and take me through my life, and not letting things "just happen," I'm going to keep this thought in mind and not waste as much time. Of course, I'm not going to be able to fill up my entire life with productive, useful, or otherwise important things, but I am going to cut down on the hours when I stare at the screen of my computer, trying to avoid my life. It's a lesson we may all be wise to learn.

Cradled Mischief

There are always certain truths that we can't tell. Certain words we don't allow to escape beyond our minds, certain statements that we promise ourselves we will never utter. And there are always good reasons for the decisions we make with regard to such things. Sometimes it is fear of society's reaction, other times a desire to avoid one's own weaknesses as much as possible by purposely avoiding any mention thereof.

So here we walk, day and night, keeping certain things secret, latching strings of syllables to our tongues to keep from spilling unwarranted realities of our own minds. By keeping these secrets, we all become that much more interesting as human beings--it's something mysterious and alluring, yet at the same time so plain and common to each of us. We all cradle within ourselves the deepest of dark morsels, our doubts and true regards. We dance on tiptoes to keep from spilling the water at the rim, delighted yet frightened by the thought of keeping all these small models of chaos in balance with one another.

Sometimes the method of prevention is a personal code, other times a societal norm. Either way, some things are better left unsaid, certain regards are best left shrouded in mystery. Thus we live, each behind their own shield of mist, seeking to get through the cracks in the armor of others while preserving the solidity of our own. So here's to the secrets that we all keep, the tantalizing words that we will never utter, and the truths that we will never bare.

No Excuses

I was walking somewhere today, and thinking about life, probably envisioning a conversation I might have with someone at some point. I was simply going along as normal, when I distinctly caught this thought in my mind:

"My thoughts have nothing to do with my actions."

Then I stopped. Something's obviously wrong with that statement. This goes against everything that I've been working on lately in terms of not just going along with things and actually picking a position. I guess these are the things I need to be cautious of. Because in all honesty, I know that I wouldn't hesitate to say that to someone in a conversation. I only say "I don't know what I'm doing" or "I'm not capable of thinking anymore" far too often as is. The last thing I need to say is another entire untruth about the correlation (or lack thereof) between my thoughts and decisions.

I'm working hard to stop just passing things off and actually take responsibility for what happens in my life. And I know that statements like that only serve to shirk that responsibility further. What I really need to do is start avoiding such thoughts or declarations and accept the fact that people aren't always going to be happy with the decisions I make...and that sometimes I'm not going to be happy with those decisions, either.

As much as I always say that I don't care what people think, I know that I do. I just don't need to be called out on it, that's all. Yes, there are some things that I care about, but at the same time, it makes it easier for me personally to deal with certain situations if I allow myself to forget the opinions of others. Self-delusion? Quite possibly. And I should probably work on improving that about myself, too...but for now I think I'll deal with actually taking responsibility for some things that I've been avoiding.

A lot of the time when I use phrases like the one I caught myself thinking, it's not a matter of trying to avoid my thoughts, but a habitual excuse for my actions, it avoids putting the pressure onto my shoulders for the most part. People don't seem to really pick up on the seemingly casual toss of that statement into conversation, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how significantly it really does affect me. Consciously, I couldn't care less what the world thinks about me or what I've said or done, but there's always the subconscious part of me that's taken to throwing out excuses and apologies all around to make me seem more polite, respectable, etc. to other people.

No, I won't even place the blame on my subconscious. If I wanted to, I could throw everything back onto human nature and chemical or electrical signals in the brain, but that's taking away from the true humanity of the decisions I make. I'm not about to let this be another one of the responsibilities I shirk. It's my mind, and I make the decisions. In attempting to summarize this, I'll say that sometimes I do care and other times I don't, and that by now, it's largely become a habit for me to excuse myself far more than I really should. That habit stemmed out of a desire to be accepted by other people and not judged for one thing or another.

So now that I've realized all of this, I'm not going to just leave it be. I'm going to start thinking before I say something (that's always a good idea, right?). I'm going to stop making excuses for everything and anything unless it really was a mistake. If you don't like what I said, then so be it, I'm not going to apologize for it just because it displeases you, especially if I did mean precisely what I said. Certainly that's a lofty aspiration, but where would I be if I didn't challenge myself?

The Glass Cane

Relationships. I'm not sure why today of all days I've been thinking about them and people's role in them. And I'm writing this when I should be working because I'm going to have literally no time after this, but that's okay. This is something that I want to get out before I forget the thoughts. Two nights ago, I had the "opportunity" of sitting through ten minutes of a couple's intimate, private conversation without my presence being observed. Needless to say, I was left not only disappointed, but also somewhat revolted. And thinking back on some of the conversations I've had in relationships...slightly concerning.

Relationships sometimes make us forget reality. Certainly it's wonderful to be wrapped up in this world of romance where you're accepted for who you are, and happy, and all that nice stuff that goes along with being in love and in a relationship. But what is the need to express that love through baby talk and conversations that consist of babble. Sometimes the conversations turn to absolutely nonsensical phrases muttered into a sweetheart's ear, and other times it's just cooing and crooning. And it's absolutely sweet and whatnot while you're in the middle of it; it somehow just works and makes sense at the time. When you take the step back and observe that...it's really rather ridiculous. Nothing wrong with anything "cute," but baby talk? Really? Are you talking to a significant other or to a child?

It's really not just the language of such conversations that really gets to me sometimes, though. Some relationships turn into obligation. Looking back on it, I'm honestly rather surprised at the number of people I know who have to have an obligatory daily or weekly conversation with their significant other. And when things like that become routine and "mandatory," suddenly that takes all the fun out of being together with someone. The point of a relationship is to enjoy each other's company and conversation...if you enjoy that so much, then there should be absolutely no reason to set a specifically scheduled time for interaction. And yes, I have heard the numerous excuses for it, too: "we're both busy and it's the only time we have free," or "it helps not distract from work at other times," or "it's something to look forward to." Alright then...because it's so hard (note the sarcasm) to just make a thirty-second phone-call as a surprise to say "I love you" when you feel like it, right? In my opinion, such surprise phone-calls, whether they last a minute or an hour, are infinitely better than the rigorously planned "Sunday at 3:00pm" conversations.

Too much of the time, people forget why they're even in the relationship. At least half of that time, I get the feeling that it's only because by then it's standard, habit, accepted fashion, because it's too hard to walk away after a given period of time. Sometimes, being in a relationship, having a person to always talk to, to do things with, just becomes so routine that we forget why we're there in the first place--why that person instead of our other friend. At that point, it's either time to remember why the hell you're there and bring something new into it, or mix it up a bit, or it's just time to move on.

I've known people who have been in relationships for long periods of time where they still got along perfectly well, but it wasn't any more than a routine by then. All emotion short of friendly affection was gone. Beyond the label of a relationship, there was nothing that made them different from friends. And I understand being afraid to move on, ending a relationship, because it is hard, and it involves wondering about whether it's the right decision, and it's such a change in the routine of our lives. But sometimes that change is exactly what people need. I almost wish I had recognized that earlier in my last relationship, because by the time I did see it falling apart, it wasn't just the relationship that collapsed--it was the friendship that was the underlying basis. Maybe if I had done something about it earlier, that fall could have been avoided. Alas, it's much too late to change that now.

Other times in relationships we just forget how to stand up for ourselves. The other person is like a glass cane--wonderful to have, but not per se necessary. Yet after a while, we come to lean on them so heavily for support, we come to rely on them to a tremendous extent, and at that point, we can't just move on with our lives because we forgot how to live without them. But sometimes we really do just need to let go, set the cane against the wall, and possibly stumble at first. After a while, we learn again how to walk by ourselves--how to build up that strength, and make our way through life without needing to lean on someone by our side at all times.

Maybe that's what makes the best relationship--one where two people can stand tall by themselves, but rest together because of their compatibility. If there's anything I've learned from my own experiences and those of others, it's that we can't just go along with something (which I've been known for doing), we need to constantly step back and evaluate where we are and where we're going. And, most importantly, we need to not ignore our own thinking and logic, we need to use them to change our course if it's not what we want...in relationships and in the rest of our lives.

I'll apologize (or perhaps I shouldn't) for the ranting nature of this post. And just to reaffirm something, I'm not trying to write on the evils of relationships. I'm not ranting because I'm bitter about being single. Actually, quite the opposite is true. The last thing I need right now is a relationship, and while the thought is nice, I'm very much content to realize that by not being in a relationship, I have more time and energy to devote to other concerns in my life that are more pertinent right now, like coming to terms with my own life and defining some of the things that I really believe. This is just something that it's always worth thinking about, especially when we start to wonder where life is going wrong. There's always enough time to take a step back and figure out if it isn't time to reevaluate our use of that cane.

Disorienting Lens of Life

It's not that hard to enjoy life if you look at it in bits and pieces. Something as simple as helping a child understand how to add fractions, so simplistic, and yet so satisfying. Maybe there's something in that about helping another human being, making another light-bulb go off in someone's head. But either way, it really is a beautiful feeling when an idea finally clicks in a child's mind. And that's how an hour of my afternoon was spent today, watching a little girl working through her homework, seeing the numbers fall in order onto the page from the tip of her pencil and the smile widen on her face when I told her she did it correctly.

I'm not sure what it is about tutoring that makes me enjoy it as much as I do. I like it though, it's a break from my own problems in life, and a chance to help somebody deal with theirs. Every time, the hour just goes by, and I'm left smiling at the end. But somehow, when I walk out of the building, I am forced to shut my eyes and press back tears. It makes no sense. I was so happy five minutes ago, smiling as I said goodbye to my pupil, and now I walk back trying not to cry.

It might be the weather, the cold and crisp nights that signal winter's approach. Or it might be the sudden emptiness of being without a human companion for the first time in an hour or two. But the wave of pure sorrow, that need to cry, that just washes over me as I walk out of the building, is astounding. It's powerful, it's chaotic, it's confusing. In that way, it's also beautiful. The sheer capacity of emotions to thus affect us, to completely switch over our mood from one minute to the next never fails to impress me, even as that wave breaks in my mind and I shut my eyes against the encroaching tears.

Thus is life, the disorienting lens through which we all see. Even if there is an objective reality, and set truths, we don't see any of it because our vision is constantly clouded by these emotions, be they from a cause we are aware of or seemingly out of nowhere. This barrier which life places between us and the world, the frosted glass that hides objectivity perpetually from our grasp, serves to separate us from more pain...and perhaps at the same time from more joy. Yet it is a barrier that opens up the imagination to wonder what lies beyond, encouraging the mind to find a freedom it would not otherwise have known.

Obsession

Today I was looking through notes on my phone, and came across one that reflected an odd desire. Wanting to be wanted by someone. I guess that makes enough sense spelled out that simply, but the complete idea really isn't as easy to grasp as it may appear. I've had a couple of conversations on the subject, but none of them have really gotten to any conclusive point where I feel as though I understand it any more than I had before. The feeling is almost primal--it's partially a desire for dominance, superiority, a position above the competitors. Only in this case it is a much simpler, yet more complex, interplay of competition: it is the fight for the attention of one person alone.

Such a desire doesn't really seem to be completely conscious, but at the same time, I can't say I'm not entirely aware of it. It's wanting to impress someone, to be lusted after, despite not wanting a relationship or anything else. No less than being wanted for sex, but not wanting sex. There lies a fine distinction, but it's not obvious to any but those who experience it.

It makes some amount of sense that this desire is only natural. It's wanting to impress members of the opposite sex--even from an evolutionary standpoint that makes sense. But on the other hand, why want to make that impression, if not after what it would bring--be that a relationship, sex, or whatever else? The nagging feeling of wanting to be noticed, sought after, held in a person's affections...it seems to overpower the rational capacity and realization that one doesn't really want the end result.

Humans evolved to think as they do about impressing the opposite sex; the species would not have survived until now if they hadn't. It's this very idea that seems to be the basis of many of our actions, relations, habits, and thoughts. Yet the line that is crossed from that primal desire to wanting a specific person only for the sake of desire is convoluted and difficult to truly understand. Perhaps it is an act of the mind centering all of said evolved tendencies to impress the opposite sex onto one person, embodying the gender in one single physical and emotional entity.

Or perhaps it isn't simply desire for the sake of being held above others in a person's affections. Perhaps it is all an elaborate ruse of the brain to protect us from falling for those who consciously we know we should not want. I find myself enthralled by my own emotions--the mess that they are and the knot of them that I cannot untangle. And I remember writing that note in my phone...wanting someone because I cannot have them. Maybe it really wasn't that simple. Maybe I wanted more than just desire from the other end. I don't know anymore. The emotions that were mine then are no longer felt by me, and those that are, not nearly in the same sense.

So I am left to ponder that division, wondering why it is that we go out of our way to impress one certain person, with whom we do not even want a chance. At the same time, I have further to wonder whether it ever really is as simple as primal desire, or if it is a more complex blending of the passions, with a true attachment shrouded in fear or shame. As far as I know, maybe I was fooling myself, looking for something I know I shouldn't have wanted and covering it in blankets of excuses to keep myself and others from the truth. Either way, it's not a truth that I can know anymore, which perhaps makes the mystery all the more enthralling.

Faltered Voice

"Are you okay?"

It's a question I keep getting from people. I'm walking along, and someone stops me and asks. I sit down in a chair, and someone I know approaches with those words on the tip of their tongue. And I don't know why. Maybe it's because I look tired, or maybe it's because I'm staring off into space. But the frequency with which that question has been directed at me lately is striking, and possibly unsettling.

What's perhaps worse is that I don't know the answer. Every time I'm asked, I inevitably say "yes." It's the natural answer for me, I mean...why wouldn't I be? But I can't help but wonder. What if I'm not okay? Certainly sometimes life feels like it's crashing down, about to fall apart, but that's part of existence; there's nothing you can do about it, and I just deal with it. So why do I keep getting asked this question? And if it really is alright, then why am I still questioning it? Why is this thought still in my head?

Well, to start off, what does it even mean to be okay? Does it mean having control over one's own life? I rather doubt it. If it did, then nobody would be "okay." So maybe it has something to do with not falling apart, not breaking down. Or being able to reasonably function, being able to get through the day. What do people mean when they ask that question? And I'm left to wonder why it's asked of me of all people.

As far as my own level of being "okay," I'm still not sure how to determine that. Yes, I'm under a lot of stress. No, I'm not sure that I can get through this week or this month. But on the other hand, I'm equally aware that I have no choice in that regard. Life has this tendency of working itself out somehow--everything works out. Maybe it doesn't work out the way we want it to, maybe we find that we have made mistakes, but it does work out in the end. Something about that is so hopeless, yet so hopeful at the same time. So even when I'm two seconds from having a breakdown, even when I wake up with a throbbing headache from the night before, dreading the day to come...I'm still okay.

It's so easy to say that, of course, when I'm sitting back, looking at my computer, contemplating the universe. Being in the moment makes that harder to do. When your heart feels like it's just been broken, your life feels like it's falling apart, you forgot everything important for the day, and you can't talk to any of your friends, suddenly...you don't exactly feel okay anymore. And I'd be lying if I say I haven't felt that way before. I have, more times than I care to count or to remember. But right now isn't one of those times. Right now, I can step back, I can take a deep breath and look at my life shaping up around me, and not fall apart because of the pieces which threaten to fall.

I'm still learning how to step back in those moments of pain, still trying to figure out how not to fall under the pressure (because I know there are people just waiting to laugh at me when I do). I don't know if it's working or not. I want to be able to say that I'm alright, that I'm not weak, that I'm not afraid of my life. But those are all lies--and I still live behind those lies, because that makes it all easier to get through...or so it seems, at least. I try not to lie to myself, but I know that in doing that, I continue to lie to the world. I don't let many people see my weakness, I don't trust many people with the truth about my emotions or my thoughts. I'm afraid of being hurt, and yet at the same time I want to be. I want to know my limits, I want to find them, and the concept fascinates me to no end. Yet at the same time, I know that to find them, I need to transcend them.

I certainly pushed those limits over the summer. I sought just how much I could handle from my own compilation of emotions. But at the same time as I look back on that part of my summer as a bit of hell, as something that I never want to put myself through again, I want to go further. I want to see just how far I can go before I really, truly break. It's this dread fascination I have...this enthralling whisper in my ear, asking to be pushed to the edge. This dreadful game of seduction I play against myself...

I think my thoughts may have wandered quite a bit in writing this. Alas, it never fails to be interesting to try and understand the strange ramblings of my mind. Maybe one day I will make some sense of this, but for now it continues to perplex and fascinate me. Welcome to life: this wonderful confusion that fills our existence, the chaos that floods us with uncertainty, the ever-changing flow of time...

Picking up Pieces

In the past week or so, I've been thinking back about things that happened in the past that may not have been the best. And these are all things that I had thought I'd gotten over before now. Summer was a break, and I had my share of breakdowns, and thought I had finally accepted all of my mistakes and moved on. Then, two weekends ago, I had several conversations that completely changed my mind in this respect. So I started thinking about this more.

Last year, I got into my first serious relationship, changed completely as a person, and made some decisions that were far from intelligent and most certainly qualify as mistakes. I had honestly thought that I had accepted all of this...until I really started analyzing my thoughts on the matter. As it turns out, there were some fundamental elements missing. I was confused about relationships, about friendships, about the truth even. Here's what I figured out:

I've now dipped into the experience of dating, and I had come out of it thinking that I was happy with what it had been before--relationships for the sake of temporary companionship and attachment. As it turns out, I'm not happy with that at all. I tried thinking of what criteria I have for someone I would date, and this is what that list looks like:

someone I trust and who trusts me

someone who can respect me

someone who can comfort me

someone I'm happy spending time with

someone who makes me want to be a better person

Yep...someone who really makes me want to improve myself. Suddenly it all fell into place--that's the piece I've been missing all this time. This is why my last relationship didn't work out, this is why I haven't gotten together with anyone since then. Maybe it sounds hopelessly unrealistic and too much to expect, and maybe it is. But that doesn't mean that it's wrong.

So I guess this severely limits my dating pool, since finding a person who fits all of those (and there's probably more that I left off the list) isn't exactly easy. On the other hand, I now understand something more about myself and my life. Here's where the hard part starts: it's not exactly easy to say 'no' to someone who fits almost every qualification except for the most important one. I like relationships, I like being that close to someone--I like that intimacy, both in the emotional and the physical sense.

I once read a quote on the wrapper of a Dove chocolate (mm...those are good) that said "temptation is fun; giving in is even better." Well, as nice as it would be to believe that, I'm not so sure I can go with that anymore. Life's really not that easy. And this plays into this thought of relationships right now extremely well. Do I seriously expect to wait until I meet the perfect person before I date again? I rather doubt it. As nice as it would be, I'm trying to be realistic here--the chances of it happening are next to none.

I'm still seeking a balance with this idea. I'm prepared to make mistakes--because what's life without them? But at the same time, I know that there are certain mistakes that I'm never going to repeat. And I promise myself that I'm never going to date someone again just because I tell myself "I'll give it a chance, maybe it'll work out." Because that's what happened last time, and needless to say, that didn't work out too well.

So here I am, almost six months after it all ended, still really working to accept all of it. It hasn't been an easy journey, but it's not something I regret. I'm glad I've gone through this, because it's shown me my own strength and let me find out what I really believe. Who knows where this will lead me, but I know I'm finally starting to figure things out, and no matter how hard it is, it's a good feeling. It really is.

Verbal Nudity

So this is my first attempt at blogging. I guess it's a step in a new direction, an attempt to find out something I didn't know before. I've just been reading several people's blogs lately, and I find them fascinating. And I've been figuring things out lately too, but my first post isn't really the place for such ramblings. I'm not here to keep a journal of my life, or to tell the story of my existence (although pieces of that will inevitably sneak in on occasion). What I'm really trying to do is to write out my thoughts, find a way to articulate my true emotions. So here I am.

Now for a bit of background. I've always been characteristically shy. As far as most people are aware, I'm an introvert. Sure, once you get to know me, there are times when I just won't shut up, but getting to know me takes a bit of effort, admittedly. Expressing thoughts isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world for me. There are some people I can talk to about anything sometimes, but a lot of the time, I just keep my mouth shut. I avoid saying what I really think for one reason or another. So in a way, this is my journey into expression, into releasing everything that floats around in my mind.

As far as the title of this post, Verbal Nudity, goes...it's laying my thoughts bare for the world to see. I intend for all of my writing to be honest, true, uncensored. Maybe that's really what I'm trying to find in all of this--the truth. Either way, I think I'm in for one hell of a ride.