I Was Actually Feeling Fine

And I was actually feeling fine. I was really, seriously feeling fine until I got home. Because of course that's when everything breaks down, falls apart, and ruins the day. Again. So here's to a repeat of yesterday, when nobody can say a word without scowling. Why the hell does this have to happen every single day?

God damn it. I was alright for once. Things were starting to work. And here I am again, with the only reason tears aren't running down my cheeks yet being that I'm not the only person in the room. I can't do this anymore. This just ruined everything. Do you have half an idea that I'm not just upset about what you said but about the fact that you just made my entire world collapse around me?

I'm sorry. Can you not tell that I'm about to cry? Is it not obvious that I'm just saying "okay" because anything else would make me fall to pieces instantly? I wasn't exactly certain what to write today. And right now, I know that I can't write anything. It's taking all my effort to keep from breaking down...again. I'm sorry I can't write anything worthwhile. I'm sorry that I just more or less fail at everything at the moment. I'm sorry.

Maybe

I don't know why. Because I needed to. It's the same reason I didn't stay in bed after I found I couldn't go to sleep. I needed to get up, I needed to do something. And maybe I shouldn't have, or maybe I can convince myself that I didn't need to. But in the end, does it really matter why? Does it make a difference what odd thought process it was that drove me where it did?

No. Because here I am today, more awake than I should be, happier than is permissible considering my emotional state last night, and still extremely confused. But I don't doubt the decision I made. So yeah, maybe it hurts to walk a bit more than usual today, and maybe I shouldn't be secretly priding myself on that fact.

In the end though, I'm happier. I'm calmer. I'm making fewer mistakes. Things are looking like they might work again. That's what I meant when I said that I needed to. I could have been just fine even if I hadn't. But I would have woken up the same mess I initially went to bed as last night. And that's one thing I'd rather not do. So here I am, awake, rational, and absolutely satisfied with what I did.

And I Couldn't Sleep

I couldn't sleep last night. I couldn't sleep because I lay there and I just kept thinking. I just kept thinking and playing my life out in my head. I'd roll over one minute to face the wall, and the next to look at the glaring red digits of the clock again. And sometime in there, I finally started admitting things to myself that I was afraid to really admit before.

Maybe right now, by writing this, I'm hoping to get a little bit better in a sense, I'm hoping to start living again instead of just being afraid, I'm hoping to do something for myself again without caring what anyone else has to say about it. I guess that here, in this moment, I get to start putting down into text the words that are hard to say, expressing the things that I can't ask for.

I love you. And I don't want to lose you. And maybe you think I'm crazy or obsessed for this being the thought on my mind in the middle of the night and then again at work, but then so be it, because frankly, it is what it is and I don't think it's changing anytime soon. People tell me that I deserve better, and maybe they're right, and maybe I do. But the thing is, I don't care. I fell in love with you, not with someone they say I deserve.

I don't know if I will ever admit this again, and I don't know what I will think of this after I post it, but today I'm changing something and saying the truth, simple and clear. Yes, I want to be with you. I don't care if it's bad for me, or if I can't handle it emotionally...I'll find a way to deal with that when it comes up. And yes, I am absolutely terrified, because I've seen you go from being absolutely crazy about someone to pretty damn cold toward them the next day. I don't want that to be me next. I know we promised to still stay friends no matter what happened through all this. But friendships end, as does everything else...and I don't want that to happen.

I've let you hurt me more than most people have ever had half a chance to, and I'll keep letting you hurt me until I completely fall apart. Please don't. I want to be there for you, I want to help you, and I don't want to see you hurt, perhaps because that's what causes me the most pain. I can't give you a reason not to do any of it, I can't convince you to stop if only because I can't even convince myself. I can only tell you why it matters to me, why I care if you do or don't do it. Because honestly, half the time you ask me for a reason not to, I'm sitting in the exact same position, waiting for someone to tell me that.

I'm not asking you to save me. I'm not begging you to be here for me. I just want the truth, in everything, no matter how powerful or how inconsequential. So please, if you don't care, just say it; if you want to be left alone, just let me know. Right now, this is my mind, laid out in words as best as I can, trying to explain something that I don't understand. My first post on this blog was titled Verbal Nudity, and this is one of the posts that most clearly gets to exactly what that was aimed at. I'm not lying, I'm not embellishing, I'm not waffling around the truth. For once, you're getting a straight answer. And it's in writing, too.

No End

Where did my weekend go? It's Sunday night, I have work tomorrow, and I feel like I just got home from work last Friday. What the hell? I guess it's partially my fault that this weekend has been as busy as it has been, but that really doesn't make the idea any more pleasant, nor does it improve the reality that I have to wake up for work tomorrow.

It just feels like there's no end in sight to any of this. These endless cycles, the boredom and fatigue, the too-short weekends. And it's frustrating. I mean, this is life, I realized that a while ago, the really nice breaks are rather few and far between. It's really rather sad. I haven't had much time to relax at all, and I really would have appreciated that this weekend.

Oh well, I guess it happens sometimes, when everything just seems to be filled with the same boring monotony, and even a nice respite from it really doesn't end up helping very much. Yeah, life is frustrating right now. Honestly, I don't really know what else to say, because I can't focus on much of anything, nor can I say that I particularly want to.

Sincerest apologies for the low quality of this post...again.

Long Drive

For most people, driving 260 miles in a day would be exhausting, painful, and miserable. Fortunately, I am not most people. Because my day today consisted of precisely 260 miles behind the wheel, with nothing but music keeping me company for the total almost six combined hours of my trip.

What's really awesome though, is that I've been awake since 5 am and am still averaging five hours of sleep per night. So yes, I felt exhausted when setting out to go one way, and exhausted when setting out to go back. But driving doesn't put me to sleep or fatigue me, not mentally at least. It energizes me. Because now, having come back to my current place of residence, I am awake, and alert, and largely satisfied despite the pain in my legs from walking, my back from sitting, and my head from dehydration...then again, I've gotten used to all of those.

So basically, I drove six hours today to spend about a third as much time with someone. Most people would be rather upset by this. I couldn't be happier, because that means that I got to see someone I miss, and I got to spend six hours driving. I've mentioned before how much I love driving for the sensation of going somewhere and accomplishing something without having to actually be concentrating too hard or working at anything in particular.

That's why I enjoyed today so much. Yes, I was exhausted most of it. And yes, I spent more time on the road than I did either at home or with the person I wanted to see. But the time I spent there was worthwhile, and the time I spent on the road was enjoyable. So really, I see pretty much no downsides to this entire day (with the exception of the fact that I now realize that I have work in two days, waking up for which is not going to be fun).

I need to take long trips like this more often. They rejuvenate me probably more than most other things I could do with my time, and they are a wonderful way to get out of a given place where I am currently trapped. I'm really liking this idea.

Putting Things Off

So...I guess I was a bit foolish today, particularly in my decision to put off writing this post. Because now there is less than an hour left before I go to bed to hopefully get a legitimately good night's rest (unlikely as that may be). I guess it's completely my fault for putting this off this much, too...but oh well, I'll deal.

I think it's fairly obvious by now that at this point, I'm just filling space. I've still got details to arrange and plans to finalize that have absolutely nothing to do with blogging. Which really means that I just want to get this post over with as quickly as possible so that I can get back to the pressing concerns on my mind at the moment.

But now to put something perhaps half-worthwhile in here: today turned out better than I expected. I guess perseverance pays off sometimes, although I still wonder whether this was all a good idea or not. Only tomorrow will tell that, though. And frankly, I'm not sure how much I'm going to sleep tonight...alas, we'll see.

Calm

I haven't wanted to write lately. Part of that is inevitably the fact that right now, I'm just absolutely exhausted. I can't think straight, and thoughts are escaping my mind at a ridiculous rate. But the other part of it also is that everything seems to have calmed down. There's nothing novel about which I feel a need to write, there is no extreme passion that I feel I need to express in any of my posts.

Which, I guess, explains why the past couple of days (if not weeks) have been so seemingly random, disjointed, and perhaps entirely and utterly irrelevant. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. And yes, I really do need to get some real sleep before I can reasonably expect to be able to get something sensible out of any of this, but still...I'm confused about it.

Life just seems to have calmed down. It's slow and smooth, and even the worst disruptions feel like nothing more than some very transitory, insignificant disruption amidst everything else. I still have moments when I'm ridiculously angry, upset, ecstatic, nervous, and pretty much any other emotion, but looking back on it, it all seems so insignificant.

Maybe this is some new sense of perspective I'm coming into, or maybe I really am just completely exhausted. Either way though, it's rather strange. I'm not sure what to think of anything anymore, really. It's almost like it's not even worth my time or effort to try and come up with an opinion.

In a way, I guess that's frightening, everything is becoming just mediocre, meaningless, completely insignificant. On the other hand, it's relaxing. For once, I'm not completely stressed out about everything and anything. Really, I'm more just confused. Although the confusion is such that I can ignore it quite nicely and let it float around in the back of my mind until moments like this when it comes to the surface.

This calm is interesting. I think that's about all I can really say for it right now. Not good, not bad, just interesting.

Bad Mood

You know what? I'm in an absolutely terrible mood right now. I don't want to write. God, I even had something worth writing earlier today, and didn't just because I wanted to have more time to think about it. Well so much for that. Because frankly, right now I'm about one more annoying remark away from getting up and killing someone.

Really, if it wasn't enough to ruin my mood when I got home by telling me that I need to rearrange my life right now, the last thing I need to hear is "well can you at least do something when your home, for once?" Yes, yes I can. And you know what, often enough I do. But after I spent the day at work and then you ruined it once I got home, no...do not you dare expect me to do one single damn thing for you right now.

Seriously, I've had just about enough. And I'm sorry, I'm sincerely sorry that this post absolutely sucks, but right now, I'm not in any sort of mood to write anything reasonable or comprehensible. So I guess that's that. This briefly ranting piece is all you get out of me tonight, because no other thought currently seems capable of garnering a foothold in my mind. I'm sorry. Goodnight.

Silence

"Silence is another way of saying what I want to say, and lying is another way of hoping it will go away."

The thing about silence is that it expresses no less than any words. On occasion, we all seem to think that if we ignore something, or stay quiet about it, nobody will know anything about it, or it will just go away. And yet, that's so far from how anything really works. Silence doesn't fix anything, it doesn't make problems disappear.

When no words are spoken, when everything is left to fall through the air and make sense of itself, it's that much more frustrating. It expresses everything. The sheer reluctance to speak relates volumes of meaning that words cannot in any way give. Syllables roughly combined into words put into phrases and conversations can't capture the truth that silence so clearly unfolds for those who care to look at it.

And as for lying, lies build up stories of their own. Sometimes we lie to ourselves, and sometimes we lie to the rest of the world. But perhaps more often than we realize, in trying to lie to others, we only really succeed in lying to ourselves. And because we're trying so hard to build up this nonsense for ourselves, intentionally or otherwise, on occasion we lose ourselves in all of this, in everything.

Sometimes it's easier to lie than it is to tell the truth. Sometimes we try to forget ourselves in the rest of the world and build something up to hide what we want, what we mean. Sometimes we stay quiet because it's the only way to tell the truth. Sometimes we lie because we can't or don't want to face something.

Maybe that all made sense, maybe it made none at all. In the end though, does it matter? No. That's typically the way I've lived up to this point. Perhaps it's right, perhaps it's not. In the end though, I'm fine with it the way it is...or something of that sort.

Monday Morning

So...I will soon have been awake for four hours on this Monday morning. And it's been a strange four hours, in several ways. But before I get into explaining everything that's taken place, I'll give a bit of background about the mood I was in at the start of all of this. So this story really starts last night.

Everything smells like paint. There is no furniture pretty much anywhere in that half of the house, and there are industrial fans blowing like crazy. This is the scene I came home to yesterday. I wasn't exactly unprepared, but it was less than pleasant. Plus, I had a terrible headache and had barely eaten. And the prospect of work the next day was not ideal. On top of that, people were being people...in other words, annoying. So yeah, I was in a bad mood. And then I couldn't fall asleep.

Needless to say, waking up this morning was a bit hellish and less than fun. I was tired, I didn't want to commute (and yes, believe it or not, sometimes I actually do), and I was still frustrated with people and things. My train was running a bit late, it started raining as soon as I got outside the station, and the bus was crowded as always. So finally, I get to my building.

As I normally do, I pull out my phone, because certain people worry about me too much and expect me to call when I arrive. I see that I have two text messages and start mentally cursing out the advertisers who inevitably sent them. Whatever. I call, I say "Hi, I got here" and hang up, because that's all I'm expected to do at this point. And then I look at the texts.

Two new texts. Both from my ex. Yes, the one from the relationship which somewhat screwed me over and caused me a significant bit of hell. They were both sent while I was in bed and my phone was off, which is why I didn't get them until this morning. But this is what they said:

I miss us

and then three minutes later:

Seriously

What the hell? I mean...how stupid can you be? It was over a year ago. I ended it. I wanted it to be over. We haven't talked pretty much at all with the exception of required interaction throughout that entire year. This person doesn't even know who I am anymore, what I've been through, what I think, what I'm like.

Are these texts seriously expected to have any effect on me? Even if that relationship hadn't thrown me into the hell that it did...we don't know each other anymore. And frankly, I'm perfectly fine with that. So I guess the one good thing out of that is that it most certainly woke me up. That and now, I'm the one laughing because I'm not going to be stupid enough to repeat those mistakes.

On a completely unrelated note, the guy who is effectively my boss walked up to me roughly ten minutes ago and told me that my writing was really good and he was pleased with my work. That certainly helped put me in a better mood. So I guess the day that started out rather miserably may be turning out less horribly than I expected. And I've only been up for four hours. I think that might be a good thing. But I'll see what happens, I guess.

Would You Hold Me?

Scheme

I can sit here right now, and I can scheme. I can plot, I can plan, I can come up with a way to get away with exactly what I want. Right now, I know how I can be exactly where I want exactly when I want, and I know that I can get away with this. So why is it still even a question in my mind? Why am I still just vaguely considering this?

I know how to get away with this. It's not that I think I can or believe it would be interesting, it's that I know with absolute certainty that I can do this and nobody can stop me. So the question remains of why I haven't actually set my mind completely to going through with it. There are still doubts in my mind, and I'm trying to figure out why.

I don't have anything against undermining authority. In fact, I do it quite often as is, so I don't need the added encouragement. I don't have anything against spending the kind of money involved in this...it's really not much considering how much I go through on a regular basis. Plus, I want to get out of here. I want to get away and do something for myself for once, to not care what anyone else has to say about it.

Maybe I will. Or maybe I won't. I guess only time will tell, in the end, just what it is I do or don't end up doing. Because right now, I'm just not certain. The temptation remains, and will for a good while still, if I know myself at all, but whether I give in or not is an entirely different question. I guess I'll wait and see.

Doubt

Doubt is, in its own way, a powerful weapon. Or perhaps less a weapon than a shield. It allows us to steel ourselves from everything. If we doubt everything, accept no certainties, allow no definite expectations or accepted facts to govern our perception, we are able to entirely separate ourselves from the situation at hand.

The thing about doubt is that while it protects us, it also harms us in the process. It is like chain-mail, it stops us from getting hurt, or hurt nearly as much, at least. Yet even as it does so, it chafes and leaves scars, irritations, its own share of annoyances that, while not life-threatening, hurt no less perhaps than if they were.

So in reality, it's a matter of balance. It's a game of figuring out when the hurt of the protector is worse than the hurt of the attack. Doubt is capable of instilling isolation, calling everything into question, and removing the much-valued aspect of trust. Sometimes it is perhaps too easy to resort to doubt and avoid the pain, yet that leaves other vital aspects lacking.

Doubt is damaging. It is capable of causing great problems both in professional realms and in personal ones. It cuts off the possibility of confident interaction, and turns everything into a question, a game. And that, while entertaining in its own right, loses its amusement value quite quickly, particularly when, as is often the case, there is something precious at stake.

A measure of doubt is reasonable...it is logical and prevents excessive gullibility. Yet when allowed to take control, doubt stifles everything which is important, leads to paranoia, and prevents anything from being properly accomplished. As with all things in life, the thing about doubt is that it needs to be dealt with calmly and rationally, used cautiously and with a good sense of reality backing any decisions made with regard to it.

Thunder

Lightning, thunder, pouring rain. It's beautiful. I want to be out in the middle of it. And yet I'm not. And I can't be...well, I could, but not without having to deal with the consequences and having to deal with people and whatnot else. It would wake me up, certainly, and maybe that's what I need.

But I'm not getting it. I'm not getting anything I need right now. Or maybe it's anything I want that I'm not getting. Is it both? I'm confused. I don't know. I'm trying to figure this out right now. And it doesn't make any sense. I don't know if it should or not. But I guess that's what I get for having another summer to survive through.

I'm sorry. I know this makes no sense, I know that the writing is terrible. Honestly, I have nothing to write about, or at least nothing I really want to write about. So I guess I'm back to just filling up space. I don't know that there's much of anything right now that can take my mind off of this. I apologize...again. Hopefully I'll have something better to write about tomorrow.

Quote-Worthy Moments

There are certain moments in life when you can see yourself standing on an edge. It's a threshold, it's a defining moment that will change something forever. Either it's an event that will change your life, or one that you've been anticipating for years, or maybe just something you couldn't get the thought of out of mind.

But it's always those moments that we theorize about, that we imagine, that we play over and over again in our minds and try to play out. And in these hypothetical situations we run through, we always come across the question of what we want to say. When we have hours, days, sometimes even weeks, months, or years to think of what would sound best in a given situation, of course it comes out spectacularly and notably.

When we really hit that point in time, though...it's never that dramatic. It's never that perfect moment we imagined or desired. It's human, it's flawed. Those perfect words don't flow to our lips, no quote-worthy phrases emerge to grace the instance. More often than not, it feels like there's something left to say. And maybe there is, but sometimes there's just nothing that we can say to any of it, sometimes we just have to let it go.

These moments strike more often than we'd like...when we first meet someone, when we say goodbye, when we start something, when we finish it. These moments happen to all of us, we find ourselves engulfed in them and feel that we should commemorate them, but have no way to do it, can't put words to the thoughts, the emotions, and sometimes even the things we think we should feel but don't.

It seems that we want to attach significance to certain things, but in thinking over them so much, something gets lost in the thought process. And when we try to sum it up, try to put a phrase over it to make it mean something, to consolidate it into a kernel of pure meaning, we find that any words we can conjure fall short.

Quote-worthy moments don't exist in real life, no matter how hard we try to bring them about, altogether too often they fail at what we are attempting. Maybe that's for the best, though. Perhaps it is better that we can't consolidate every moment into a single statement that expresses it. There's some fragility in everything that happens that way, it adds a given significance to what we experience in life itself that can't be recreated or relived.

Life wouldn't be what it is if it were so simple to quote each moment like that. And the reality of that is bittersweet. But as I've said before, I like the bittersweet. I think it's definitely worth appreciating.

Showers

I'm really tired right now, don't have much else to write, and am somewhat at a loss for any semblance of a coherent thought process. So I apologize in advance for whatever the hell it may be that I end up writing here, because I know that it will come out of nowhere and probably make absolutely no sense. Fair warning.

Showers are nice. They are warm, and comforting, and a ridiculously good way to get away from people for a couple of hours. And yes, I have taken showers that quite literally have lasted for more than one (if not two) hours. Those are probably my favorite showers, actually...the ones where you completely lose track of time and just sink into this warm, comfortable world...

I probably enjoy showers far more than I should. But I don't much care (until the water bill arrives, anyway). It's a great practical excuse to get away from the world and stop paying attention to everything, and just relax for a bit. It's also pretty much the best thing you can do when literally every part of your body hurts.

And since that happens to me rather more often than I would like (try every day, at this point), I really, really appreciate showers for making it all hurt a bit less. Especially when I'm surrounded by perfectly capable people who are just refusing to give me massages because they're too tired or lazy to.

But anyway, that's enough rambling for one time. I'm sorry I have nothing better to write about now and I'm sorry that I really can't think clearly enough to make this even sound decent. I think I'm quite through here...

Finally

It took fifteen months, but if finally happened. I let it go. My ex no longer has any power over me. Even after we had both gone in different directions with different people, I still couldn't look this person in the eye, couldn't carry a conversation, couldn't fully let go what had happened.

That relationship changed me, it changed me in so many ways, some good and some bad. But frankly, most of them were bad. And I've spent over a year now dealing with the consequences of it all. I think I've finally done it though, I've finally really and completely accepted everything that happened and I can breathe again.

The idea of this individual, even the presence, no loner intimidates me. There is no longer any weight in insults thrown around or attempts to hurt me, because I've finally grown past everything that took place then.

And all of this just hit me walking back from the train today. I was listening to music, and "My Immortal" came on. During that relationship, the song took on a certain association that I couldn't let go, even a year after it all ended. Suddenly today, I realized that I no longer wanted to cry when I heard the song, it no longer meant what it had before, it no longer carried those memories.

So I can finally say it: I've accepted it. I've moved past it. And it feels so good.

Smile

What I find so interesting is how memories stay in mind, and just what it is that we remember, how fondly we look back on it, how it can sometimes make us smile no matter what. Because sitting here, in my completely exhausted state, waiting for some work to do, I find myself looking back on past times and smiling.

One of the most pleasant memories I have from the past year is sitting outside, on a misty night, wrapped in a blanket, and having various articles of clothing stolen from me. I guess it was one of those nights that's magical because of the sheer absurdity. And that made the whole situation so much more fun than it would otherwise have been.

It seems to me that we don't remember nights like this for any particularly special reason, for any hidden significance or utterly incomprehensible secret. I figure we keep them in mind because ultimately, moments like that are what made us smile, what helped us to laugh, what reminded us that there's still something to look forward to in life.

It doesn't happen often, but that's what adds to the experience. Such moments of simple pleasure, such randomness and incomprehensible amusement are priceless in the grand scheme of things. They may not change the world, they may not ultimately seem to play upon much, but what they do succeed in doing is making people smile.

And sometimes I wonder if that isn't really all that's needed in this world sometimes; a bit of absurdity to light up someone's face for a bit.

To The Point Of Tears

"Live to the point of tears." --Albert Camus

That's powerful. And at the same time, ridiculously frightening. Because it asks you to live that much, to push yourself to the very edge of existence and to prepare yourself to be broken. Being broken hurts, and that's why it's so often avoided. But maybe there's some sense to this, to living to that point.

They say that you can never find your limits unless you take the risk and cross that line. Maybe this is the same idea, that you can't really live unless you know just how far you can go, just how painful it can get. I've often said that you need the bitterness in your life in order to appreciate all of the joys and peaceful moments. So I guess it makes sense, then.

It's not possible to live without getting hurt, not possible to truly experience anything without legitimately letting go and taking chances. Sometimes we do need to live to the point where we're broken and crying and don't know what to do, just so that we can find ourselves again, so that we have a solid place from which to pick ourselves up and move forward in life.

And frightening as it may be, maybe that's just what I need.

Maybe what's right is for me to stop fearing, to let go of that need for control, and just accept things, not question them, not mourn them, just let them be, believe them. Maybe it's time for me to take a chance again, to let myself get hurt by someone other than myself for once. Maybe that's what I really need right now.

So I'll try it. I'll try to let myself live to the point of tears. I'll let myself be vulnerable. It's not as though lying to myself as I am now is doing any good, anyway. Alright. I will believe. I will trust. I will be open and truthful and honest. That way, I know that surely I will end up broken.

I guess it's worth a try, if nothing more.

Just How It's Changed

It's rather funny to think about change. It's this certain quality that we can't define, can't explain, love and hate. We're terrified of it, yet miserable without it. In a way, it establishes who we are and how we live our lives. There's no avoiding it and no hiding from it, not that after a while we'd want to. But perhaps what is interesting to consider is how our interests have changed, our thoughts, and even our comforts.

This post is probably going to contain way too much information for anybody to want to know, but I don't care. If you don't like it, don't read it, the warning has been issued, so at this point, scarring mental images are no longer my fault nor my responsibility.

It's rather funny though, how three years ago, clothing was like a shield. I felt awkward, strange, uncomfortable, maybe even a bit violated when I showed more skin than usual. The sheer idea of someone seeing me down to undergarments was disturbing, almost like those childhood nightmares of forgetting your pants. Changing in high school locker rooms was unpleasant, and I wasn't the only one. We all cowered in our own corners, tried to cover ourselves as best we could between pulling one item of clothing off and putting another on.

But in three years, something has clearly changed. Because now, it's the other way around: clothing is like a burden, and bare skin bears a certain comfort to it. Sure, I'm not about to start prancing around naked, nor do I overtly dislike clothes. All the same, though, the shift has been monumental.

It couldn't have come in a giant leap, because I would have noticed that. Instead, the change must have been gradual. Suddenly, there was a new comfort in being undressed before people. There was no more awkwardness, no staring or trying desperately to look away. Being naked began to bear a certain intimacy, a certain familiarity with people, even on a merely friendly scale, from a non-sexual, non-romantic standpoint.

Maybe that's just one of those things that happens as you mature, you learn to become more accepting of yourself and your body, not just those around you. The physical awkwardness becomes less of a barrier to communication, expression, or anything really. Maybe it's because you learn to take a step beyond words, to express yourself with your body again, as in childhood--with smiles, hugs, appreciative of the warmth afforded by a human being.

And in that way, any bodily contact becomes once again comforting, not threatening. Once you get past the awkwardness of adolescence, where every bit of accidental contact is frightening and full of implications, you reach the stage where physical intimacy becomes no less important than emotional intimacy, where you learn that clinging to another human being can make everything better so much faster than anything else.

I guess that's the metaphorical threshold I crossed at some point in the past three years. It doesn't mean that I like my body, merely that I have learned to live with it and accept it. And honestly, I am entirely uncertain of why I thought of this during my lunch break...but I did, so I wrote about it. Whether it makes sense or not, though...that's an entirely different question.

65 Days

I have 65 days.

65 days to count down.
65 days to run through hypothetical situations.
65 days to miss people.
65 days to wait impatiently.

I want to be back.
Because when I'm here and not there, everything feels unstable.
Every moment seems like the world may collapse in on me.
And I don't like that feeling.

I'm restless.
Even fatigue doesn't hinder that.
I don't want to be here.
And thoughts of where I'd rather be won't let me relax.

I have 65 days to fix some issues.
To hopefully gain some control over this depression.
To understand what I want and what I need.
To get something done while I can.

I know that as the day draws closer,
I'll start dreading it.
But for now,
I can't wait.

I want to be back.
I want to breathe that air again.
I want to feel the emotions that it brings back.
I want to see the people who I miss so much.

I love that place.
It's as much home to me as anywhere else has ever been.
If only because of the people.

So now, I have my 65 remaining days.
And I'm counting down anxiously.

Depression

My depression has changed its character. It is no different in its inherent makeup, in the pain that leads to it, in the fatigue that underlies it. But on the whole, it is completely different as though I am a different person to be thus depressed.

It used to be a forceful, angry, raging beast. It used to push and scream and seek for an escape. It was characterized by tearful fits and angry music to drown out the world. It asked for retribution and some sort of feeling. What it was consisted of a spiteful creature, seeking to tear apart and destroy, to express rage and bitterness.

And now it has entirely changed. It has lost the force that used to power it. It has abandoned the energy which could give it any sense of power or lack of restraint.

Now, it is a fatigued semblance of a mind, the tired remnants of a once desirous soul. It has lost its vigor and gained a more omnipresent despair. There is no desire to move, to express anything, to drown out the world or to release the misery. All that is left is sorrow, a gaping wound slowly bleeding out any remaining life.

I want nothing more than silence. I wish to sink away into nothing, to fall into the void and never look back. There is no anger left, and even the bitterness and misery is disappearing. Soon, there will be nothing left. The tears rain down emptiness, not remorse.

Everything has lost its reason and its power. And there is no fixing it. I've lost the power to move, to change, to care about it. I'm letting myself be washed over by pain because there is nothing left for me to do. No desire remains, not for pain nor for absolution thereof. It doesn't matter.

There is no reason to wipe away the tears. The trails remain, each day leaving more marks. But there is no sense in trying. Perhaps something is wrong with me. So be it. I don't care. I'm not going to move and I'm not going to change it. This listless state of bitterness and emptiness is enough for me. I don't want or need anything else.

Hurt

Sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes a single word has the power to tear you to shreds for absolutely no good reason. And there is no explanation, no reason and no rhyme. This is pain.

Welcome to emotion.

It occasionally happens where you know that if you hear one more word, you will crumble. You have to sit back for minutes to let the searing pain pass before you can respond. And even then, you can barely manage.

When tears start leaving their trails on your cheeks and won't stop, when searing agony runs through every muscle of your body, you are left powerless. Powerless against emotion, powerless against yourself, powerless against the pain.

Sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes you have no idea why. And there is a certain core in all of it, in all the pain, the agony, that finally strikes a chord that needed to be struck.

Sometimes hurt does that. It reveals the deepest and most terrible secrets that we pretend even to ourselves to not know. Until we can't pretend anymore.

Bitterness has its virtues as well.

Priority

"Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option." --Mark Twain

I can't say I particularly like much of that man's writing. But damn, that quote is completely right. And of course I'm paying it no heed.

Oops.

I do things like this rather often it seems. And maybe I care about people too much. But oh well, it happens.

I've said it before, and I'll repeat the exact phrase: I knew what I was getting into.

Believe me, I knew. And I still do.

So yeah, I'm an idiot for not following the advice given in that quote. I know that. I don't care. Not about being an idiot in that regard at least.

What I do care about though, is people. And what I don't care about half as much is whether or not they care about me. Not trying to be altruistic or any such nonsense here, just the way it is. Just the way I live my life, I guess.

Issues

The more I think about life, the more I realize how many unresolved issues I have. Some of these have carried over from childhood, problems developed as a result of my parents' disciplinary techniques. Others are issues that came as a result of interactions with other people, ways in which I have been hurt and interactions that I have had. And still others are developed from my own independent thought processes, from existentialist views of life, and that are in a way insecurities that I brought upon myself.

The unifying factor between all of these issues I have is that I want to fix them. I want to change them. After a full year of letting them float around me and cloud my judgment, I want to change something. Or rather, I realize that I need to, in order to make anything of myself or my life. For myself, I have no other choice--I can change now, or I can continue living the hell I am now.

So I need to change. I need to fix some things. I need to work on my mentality, my outlook, my reactions, my attachments, to name a few concepts for me to take upon myself. I know that it stands before me to improve my own life right now, to resolve my issues, to work through what's happened, understand it, and comprehensively understand the standards to which I desire to hold myself.

The question is: how do I do it?

That's what the summer months are for. This is a chance for me to think for myself. My daily three hours of commute are an opportunity to come to terms with everything. I can't let myself get caught up in the minutia and details which too often seem to determine my perspective on things. I have a little over two months now (67 days, to be precise) to fix something, to work through it, to make it work.

What I want is to make sense of how I react to things and why I treat them the way I do. I realize that fear is a lot of what is holding me back, and while I realize the foolishness of it in a sense, I on the other hand can't help but realize the usefulness of it for my avoidance of stupid mistakes. But what I really need for that isn't fear, it's rationality. I can't avoid things because I fear them, but should rather avoid them because I have rationally determined their harm to me.

And that's just the start. Now I have to go from there. I have to continue that to the rest of my issues, and start applying it all to how I live my life. I've got some time now, I need to use it as much as I can.

Lies

I don't like public transportation very much. Especially not on Fridays. Especially not on Fridays when it seems like literally everyone is trying to get into the city. And then the express train just passes by my station. So I end up stuck waiting for the non-express, which is also late and also completely full of people.

Long story short, after a miserable ride with a random girl using my shoulder as a seat, I got to the city half an hour after I could use my pass on the bus...so I ended up walking the nearly three miles to get where I am. And showed up an hour late. Nobody blames me, but on the whole, the experience was less than pleasant.

I guess that's what you get for electing to be in the city over the summer though--days like this, where there are too many people and not enough time. To top it all off, the day has been stop-and-go as far as what I need to get done, and my lunch, which started at 12:50 pm, was comprised of three separate ten-minute intervals over the course of an hour or so.

Today just hasn't been my day. I'm tired, and rather want to curl up with a book right now. At least it's Friday? I don't know whether that makes any of this any better. Tomorrow gives me no respite from people and travel (although at least I get the car tomorrow). And I don't even know what's going on with Sunday. I just hope I manage to get at least a bit of sleep in the next two days.

And as for the title of this post, figure it out. No, everything I wrote is pretty much completely true. The lies are something else entirely, and yet completely related to what I just wrote. And I rather doubt that anybody can guess what. So that's all. The end.

Scream

I've started writing again. I mean, writing for myself.

I've started writing things that I'm not posting.
Things that are only for myself and nobody else.
Things where I don't need to leave out details.

Where I can say what I want
and I don't have to leave out names
or the emotions I really feel
or tone down what I want to say.

I can scream at the world.
Every phrase I know I can't post on my blog
I write out where nobody will ever see.

Because I need to.
Because it saves me.
Because it's the only way
that I can get through this mess.

This way, I can tell the full truth again.
I don't have to lie about what I wrote.
I hope it helps.

I need myself right now.
I need myself more than I need other people.
I need to learn to hold myself up alone.

So now I'm trying.
I'm trying to get back up on my feet.
And I'm afraid that I'm going to fall apart.
But I hope I don't.

I really, really hope I don't...

Rhythm

Being in the city this week has made me think a lot more. Between the long commute I now have every day and the changed perspective, my thoughts have been flowing vividly, practically surging. And yet it's been difficult for me to put them down into words. There's a certain sensation to it all, a given feeling that I know and understand and am becoming accustomed to, but I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how to put it down into phrases with syllables that make it come out a given way. It's just another one of those things I can't describe adequately at all.

But what I have realized is the sense of rhythm that permeates life. The city itself has allowed me to see it even more clearly, on an even larger scale. The flood of people, the frantic rush to the train or the bus or to get across the street the moment before the light changes. It all has this underlying pulse, like if you just stopped and stood there, you would literally feel the life vibrating around you, completely in tune on a certain wave of rhythm that just carries everyone. In the chaos that is traffic, that is waves of people coming and going, that is schedules and appointments intersecting in every instant, there is an order. There is a fundamental, underlying pattern.

There is a rhythm.

It's the same rhythm we find in ourselves when we are most cognizant, when we are most alone and most aware. Out of every silence emerges the soft rhythm of breath. Under every bit of skin courses blood, following a patterned pulse. There is no escaping this regularity, this measured rise and fall, ebb and flow, come and go. It's everywhere. It is within ourselves and outside of ourselves. It defines our lives in every sense. It casts us out into the wider world, and then it gently brings us back to who we are.

The feeling of understanding the world, of feeling its undercurrents softly murmuring under every situation, every interaction, every occurrence, is incredible. It's knowing that nothing makes sense, yet finding sense in it. Letting go, watching your breathing even out and align with the movement of the world around you, letting everything just take care of itself, sitting back and knowing it will somehow be alright. Not knowing how, not knowing why, and not caring, that's what makes it so wonderful.

In moments like those, every sensation is elevated. Suddenly, when nothing matters at all, everything begins to be beautiful, to matter more, to carry such a powerful sense of beauty with it as it would never otherwise have possessed. Everything falls away, and what it leaves is simple and it is pure. It is gentle and it is forceful. It is cruel and it is kind, agonizing and merciful. It is so simple yet so complex, the two extremes coming together in a cacophony that is in itself a symphony.

It is rhythm. It is life.

Blur

I'm not particularly keen on writing today. In fact, I'd much rather curl up in bed, or even on the train on my way home, and just read. I want to spend my entire day reading, and doing nothing but. I want to forget that I have work to do, that there are people I can be talking to, and I just want to curl up, block out everything else, and read.

This is me being an introvert, as per usual. I've hit the point in the week where I've had enough of people, and I don't feel like clicking on a minimized window every two minutes to continue a conversation that's not really going anywhere. If I had to have a person with me, I'd just want to curl up next to them (fine, I'd set aside the book at that point) and stay primarily silent. Maybe we'd say one or two phrases occasionally, but for the most part, it would be just the bodily comfort of someone being next to me, not conversation.

I'm not entirely certain why I don't want to write though. It almost feels like I've run out, like I've already said so much and there's nothing left to say. I think maybe that's more of me just not really wanting to think now, which comes with being sleep-deprived (because goodness knows, the past couple of nights have been terrible for me). So it's easier to just shut the rest of my own life out and just read and think about everyone else for a change.

Looking up from my screen, everything is a blur for a bit. I need to take a minute to refocus my vision, to start recognizing the world around me as actually being real again for once. It's strange. It feels like I'm floating in some sort of dreamy world, where nothing is real, like I'll wake up in a couple of hours and go back to my life. This is a particularly strange sensation to have when I have work to accomplish, and a limited window of time for that.

But I don't want to work. And I don't want to think. And in a way, I don't even want this blurriness to go away. It's nice to not be entirely conscious of reality every once in a while. I like being able to just slip into my own little world, be it in a book or just in my head. So two hours from now, I'll be off, and after another half hour or so of catching public transportation, I'll be on the train back, lost in a book.

I can't wait for that. Just the thought of it makes me happy.

Windows

Probably one of the most interesting things about working in a large city is the change in perspective. I'm used to the suburbs. I've lived in the same suburb for a number of years, and another one before it. I haven't lived in a large city since I was six years old. So the utter difference in perspective I get from working in one now is enthralling.

I've never really loved cities. There's not enough fresh air, too many people, and traffic is just unbearable. But somehow, this is nice. Stepping off the train or the bus every morning, I see a different sort of life. It's like watching a giant animal that is made up of all these people, rushing along in this massive flood of the living. It's easy to forget in a situation like that, just how human every individual is. You start looking at it all as a mass migration, and in that you forget that every person there has their own concerns and priorities. Everyone is going somewhere that is in some way important to him or her, they're not there merely to be another piece of this giant rush.

There's a window near where I work on the 4th floor of a large building. It's about 30 feet away from me, but if I turn my head ever so slightly to the left, I can see outside. I can see buildings rising up around me, and people walking down below. And the view of the rain is just breathtaking. For once, I don't just see the rain as droplets in front of me or coming down from above. When I look out, I see not only in front of me, but also under me, the water tracing its way down through the air, like tiny meteoroids coming down onto the unsuspecting victims below.

It's nice to be in the city for a change. I guess it'll probably grow old pretty quickly, and the view from the window on any day, rainy or not, will be lost on me entirely. But for now, I'm rather enjoying it. It's one of the nicely interesting bright spots on an otherwise chill and muggy day. If only that window were just a bit closer though...that would be nice.

Melancholy

I'm not miserable. But at the same time, I'm far from happy. It's this weakly nagging bitterness, this tired annoyance. This damn time, this foolish aspect, this strangely maddening stage of limbo. In between everything, and not moving at a noticeable enough rate to really feel it at all. The uncertainty of it all, the precarious balance in which it hangs.

It fatigues me in and of itself. Any possibly satisfactory resolution to this forced equilibrium, this unnatural stasis, lies so far in the future that it makes every moment drag, every instant seem longer than it should be. My mind overflows with various thoughts, concerning the very things that aren't around me, the things I find myself missing so badly.

I've gone into playing with hypothetical situations. I'll replay encounters, conversations, glances over and over again in my mind, consider them from every angle, see what may happen under one set of conditions, how it may come to pass differently under another. None of it is particularly relevant, and yet my mind continues to rove those corridors seemingly aimlessly, again and again and again.

All of these imagined occurrences can do nothing to change the reality that will come to pass. Ultimately, what really happens will be nothing like the hypothetical ideas I have walked through in my head countless times. But that doesn't seem to stop me from trying new ideas constantly, hoping I may hit upon an inevitable truth that the future will hold.

Or perhaps this is just me, obsessing again. Perhaps it is nothing more than my desire to stay fixated upon a given circumstance, to keep a given thought in mind so that I don't forget it, don't forget how much it means to me. This all may be nothing more than a subconscious desire to try and focus on something that so often concerns my mind.

There's still a sense of tired bitterness to it all, the soft taste of melancholy permeating every other emotion associated with it. In one aspect, it is hopelessness, the disappointment of seeing all good things end and thinking that ending to come sooner rather than later. Another aspect is the omnipresent fear of inadequacy that I seem to harbor as I do, permeating hesitation into every motion and decision of my life.

I don't want to ruin this, and by being so afraid of it, that is inevitably what I will wind up doing. There's nothing more to it, just the simple fact that I still care more than is good for me or anybody else, particularly in this given case. And that concern, my own set of emotions, is going to end up hurting me or someone else through all of this. If there's one thing I really don't like in life, it's causing this sort of pain, the deeply bitter emotional kind, to anyone, myself or others.

Perhaps the melancholy ultimately comes from knowing that there will indeed be pain, that someone will inevitably suffer.

Direction

At one point or another in life, we all find ourselves at a crossroads of sorts, be it physical or metaphorical, definitively directional or emotionally fluid. There, we have to choose for ourselves what we want to do with our lives, where we want to go. It is a time not for ultimatum, but for decision.

There is no sense in throwing out absolutes, which decisions hardly ever are. But the fact remains--one day, we all find ourselves in the circumstances where we must determine the direction in which we want to lay the rest of our lives. We must choose. Suddenly, there is no more floating around or being uncertain.

A decision must be made. Yes or no. This or that. We must prioritize what we want, determine whether we want one thing building up for us or another. We lay the bricks now that form our path in the future. We prepare for certain events, anticipating possible obstacles and working to prevent them.

In a way, we live our entire lives looking into the future, trying to plot out the "best" direction in which to take them. But ultimately, there are certain moments that we know will shape eternity for us. Sometimes too, it seems as though we're so busy trying to find these crucial points and decisions. So busy trying to find them, in fact, that we miss them entirely.

And it's an awful shame to let something go to waste like that, a terrible disappointment for life to merely slip away because we forgot to look ahead for that one critical second it took to make a decision that could push us so far ahead. That is, if ahead is precisely where we want to go.

Time

This artificial human construct of time, this idea of seconds and minutes and hours. This brainchild of humanity, this brilliant invention that lets us know our surroundings better, is also the very same element which locks us rigidly in place. It serves as a prison, constraining us to defined schedules and appointments, meetings and events that must be maintained.

The concept has become convoluted to the point of blasphemy. I rarely go anywhere without a watch or time-keeping device anymore. I begin to feel anxious about constantly being late or missing something important if I am not aware of the established time that governs where I need to be and what I need to do.

It can be argued that the idea has overrun its boundaries of efficiency and usefulness, and entered into a tract of intrusion and annoyance. We are ruled by this artificial structure that we set up for ourselves. There is no absolute time in the universe, there is nothing that tells us humans that we must wake up precisely at 7:00 am on a given day to be somewhere. The universe and, for the most part, the rest of humanity couldn't care less.

So why do we confine ourselves to this rigid spectrum of existence, this element with highly restricted fragments of so-called "free" time for us to exercise our will. There is absolutely no necessity for any of this. And yet here we remain, perhaps only because we know of no better way, perhaps because we are afraid to upset the current system. Either way it still holds this ominous sway over our lives.

Thus I sit, with 74 days of this defined time hanging over me. It is all on a schedule. It is all something I have no power over, no choice but to obey. These are going to be 74 of the less-than-pleasant days of my life. They are going to drag by slowly and agonizingly because I realize that this is the last place I want to spend that time.

But some higher authority told me that I had 74 days to fill, so here I am, filling the next 74 days with as much nonsense as I can to keep my mind off of just how badly I want them to pass already. Life is one hell of a convoluted mess.

Forced

This post will be forced. Because today as a whole has been forced. Maintaining consciousness today has been a forced and concentrated effort. Today, I have been forced. And I don't want to write. I don't want to press my fingers down and trigger the appearance of letters on my screen. But I'm forcing it, anyway. I'm making myself put phrases down, no matter how resistant my mind is to the idea of this.

I'm working through this. Pushing my entire self through this pain, both that of body and of mind. Because while I am under significance pressure physically and mentally right now from this sense of being unwell, I have had time to come to certain determinations. So as I am right now, my mind is rigidly set. My will is bent in a certain direction--although that may only consist of getting through this temporary hell.

And in that I mean not only the hell of the next couple days, but that of the next couple months as well. The only thing left to do in life on certain days is to survive. I am at this point right now. I just need to take a deep breath and make it through. I need to just lie here through the pain and wait for it to pass.

It has been a year since I've taken pain pills. I don't intend to start again now. So here I am, waiting for the miserable sensation to subside. And while this has basically lost me any enjoyment I could have had in today, I don't resent it. I just have to make it through the rest of this. I'm forcing myself through it. Bit by bit.

Deep Breath

Well, things really are changing. Welcome back to existence. These past several days (I won't go so far as to say weeks), have been like a long journey somewhere, a flight...hanging in transit, floating in air, knowing only where you came from and where you are going. And now, now it's over. We have landed.

So here, some form of life starts again. Things are happening. People are going places and making plans. At least I'm not stuck behind in all of this, though. My own plans are taking shape, certain aspects of my life are coming about even faster than I could have expected. So at the very least, I have distractions for the next couple of months.

Of course, it's somewhat difficult to distract myself with any sort of activity from certain thoughts and occurrences. But at least it's something. It's getting certain obligations (of a sort) out of the way and keeping me from excessive violence for at least a space of time. In the background, my mind is still going to be worrying, thinking incessantly over everything that's currently occupying my thoughts. On the whole though, I think this should help at least a bit.

If nothing more, it's going to allow me to count the days that much more steadily, give the time a certain solidity that I will be able to grasp. I think I need that solidity right now, that element of control. While I may not be able to hold power over the time, I will at least have some way to keep track of it. Right now, I have two emails to reply to that I've been putting off for most of the day, so I think I will go do that now, and then continue watching the world blur.

Of Greetings And Goodbyes

Those who know me well inevitably either know or can guess where I got the title of this post. And yes, I do rather often steal titles for posts from song titles and/or lyrics. So while the song is rather irrelevant in what I am writing right now, the title fits better than pretty much anything else could. That, coupled with the fact that I'm not particularly fond of generic titles like Say Goodbye, explains why I chose the phrase I did.

Anyway...moving on from my selections for titles and back to the real reason I'm writing right now (no, it is not merely because I make myself).

It's unreal. It's not right. I couldn't have just transported my entire life from one place to another in a car today. It's not possible. I didn't. This can't really be happening. It's like a brief vacation, like I'll go back to my true home in a couple of days. You can't ask me to uproot my entire existence, to just pack it up and go elsewhere like none of that ever happened.

Today, I said goodbye to people I will never see again. I said goodbye to people who have literally been keeping me alive for months now. I said goodbye to people who I will never see the same way as I saw them today because everything will change before I see them again. I said goodbye to people who have broken me and people who have put me back together, even some who have done both.

I left a piece of myself there that I don't think I'm ever getting back. What happens now? What do I do with myself? I don't know how to function without my home, without my friends, without the people who have changed me in so many ways. And I'm afraid. I'm afraid because now, everything is changing. Now, my entire life may fall apart. Now, I have to keep myself from breaking. I don't know if I remember how to do that anymore. I've lived for too long with people supporting me.

To those I left behind forever, I will miss you and thank you for being interesting people to talk to and share a portion of my life with. To those who I will see again in a couple of months, I can't wait to see you again, and I hope you make the most of this time apart. And finally, to those for whom everything will change, to those who I will never be able to talk to the same way again, to those I don't know I'll ever be able to forget, thank you for having changed my life, thank you for having been there for me, thank you for absolutely everything, and I hope that after whatever happens in the near future, everything somehow works out, however that may be.

It's strange. I'm awash in a million emotions and I don't know what any of them are. Between the exhaustion and the confusion, the anticipation and the fear...I don't know. There's a certain finality to it, and yet it's lacking entirely. It doesn't feel like the end. I can't imagine not seeing these people again tomorrow, or in a week...not to mention a matter of months.

Those goodbyes, some of them really were final. Some of them really do mean the end of something. And I don't think I've really come to terms with that fact quite yet. I don't know that I'm ready for this right now. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but I have no choice in the fact. Now, all that's left to me is to take it and make the most of it, to try not to break myself through my fear, my anticipation, my confusion...

I have memories now that I don't think I'll ever forget. I've had experiences that are unlike any others. I've met close friends. I've found still more of myself. Nothing that happens in the next few months can change what happened or what it means to me. Whatever changes from here on out, it can't take away the things that I have gained.

I guess this is the end of one chapter in my life, and effectively the start of another. I'm hesitant to turn the page because of some things that have occurred. But I have no choice. So here goes nothing as I move into the future and the rest of my life.

24 Hours

It's rather a strange feeling, knowing that in twenty-four hours, the place I currently call home will be my home no more. In twenty-four hours, I will be elsewhere, looking back on where I am right now, the chair I am in, the window in front of me...all so familiar, and wondering why it has to change. And yet that's not the only odd sensation about it.

Perhaps even more strange is the knowledge that in the next three months, someone's heart will be broken. And the knowledge that that heart may be my own. And the sense that I would rather it be mine that got shattered. I would rather be the one hurt in all of this. It's not simply masochism, it's not some strange heroic sacrifice. Really, it's just the way I am.

Because I know heartbreak. I know this very heartbreak pretty damn well by now, and I know that I could handle it. I know that it would be familiar, and in that, while no less bitter, it would carry a certain comfort that comes with knowing how to survive through it. It's not a gesture of pity or of sympathy. It's me understanding my own emotions and reactions.

There's something soothing about crying over a broken heart. Perhaps it should not be so, but by this point it is. So no, I do not look fondly upon my heart being shattered into tiny pieces...yet at the same time, I'd would prefer for it to be me. Then again, the more I think about it, the less I seem to understand. I don't want to be hurt, but at the same time...I still think I'd prefer it be me, if only because there's something about the other side of this that I seem to understand way too well.

So I don't know. I don't know what I want. I don't know what's going to happen. All I can do is calm myself down, sit back, and hope for the best, whatever that may be. And once everything is all said and done, I will learn to take it, deal with it, accept it. That is my only option here.