I Should Probably Write

I really do need to change this habit of not writing until rather late in the day, and then at a point when I'm not much able to concentrate nor properly phrase whatever intelligent ideas had in fact entered my thoughts.  With that in mind, it'd be really nice if someone reminded me at least occasionally to write before 10 pm, but I won't mind if nobody does, and perhaps it really is better that I just write whenever I do, be it before or after that turning point in my day.

One of the reasons I didn't write earlier today is probably that it's been a rough, messy day.  With the exception of the last three or four hours, I couldn't really call any part of it particularly pleasant.  Some parts just downright sucked.  I hate it when that happens.  But whatever.  It was my own stupidity that made them suck so much, so now I get to deal with the consequences.

In any case, life just seems strange lately.  I've been writing a lot more about myself and my sentiments, but I feel like I've been getting a lot less out of it.  I should change that.  Although I'm not sure how, so I'll be working on that.  There have just been too many ups and downs lately for me to enjoy this much.  It seems so random and irrational and at this point, I'm honestly just tired of it.

Anyway, I think I was going to say something insightful, or at least attempt to.  But at this point I've completely forgotten what it was.  So I guess that'll be it for tonight then.  Hopefully something decent will materialize relatively soon?  I don't know.

Drown

It doesn't hurt.  I'm not broken over it or particularly upset by it.  I'm just empty.  Simply that.  I feel as though I am being swallowed up by everything around me.  It's done.  That's it.  The end.  No more.  It's completely out of my control now.  And I can't do anything else, I can't change it anymore, nothing.  That's simply it.  And I feel nothing.

I feel empty.  I'm not proud, I'm not triumphant, I'm not panicked.  I don't feel anything.  Maybe it's better that way.  I just really don't know what to think right now. I'm numb.  I'm sitting here in a tiny corner of the world, losing myself to music soft and bittersweet.  It's as though I don't exist.  Everything is going on around me and I'm just floating on the melody.

This isn't quite depression.  Not at all, really.  It's that same sensation of insignificance and emptiness, but this isn't unhappy or bitter for any reason.  It just is.  It doesn't matter.  And yet it isn't apathy.  I'm not quite sure what it really is.  I just know that here I am, in the middle of it all, watching the world go on around me and feeling powerless to do anything against or about it.

It just feels endless right now.  Endless and tedious.  I don't know what to make of any of it.  And tomorrow I have to resume life.  I don't know why that's so hard for me to wrap my head around, or why it is that I can't make sense of anything at present, but it is the way it is.  I'm sorry.  This probably makes no sense.  But nothing does to me at present.  Oh well.

Of Blankets

And there you lay there on the cold, hard floor, sleeping, dreaming I would dare to say based on the twitching of your legs at intervals.  There you were, under the sweatshirt I had covered you with because I didn't want to see you lying there all cold and alone on the floor, but was too afraid to join you because I didn't want to wake you up.  Your eyes closed, your expression peaceful, I realized then that I hadn't seen you this calm in a while.  But there you were, at my feet, as I sat here writing.

I wanted to walk away, to do something, anything, to not just sit there and watch you.  I didn't want to leave, though, because I didn't want you to wake up without me there.  I left anyway.  It was better to leave you a few minutes of peace than my constant tapping on the keyboard interrupting the flow of your dreams.  And then I came back, walking as quietly as the floor would allow, treading carefully as far away from you as I could because I didn't want to disturb you.  So I sat down and wrote again.

I wished this would happen in a different place, a different time.  In a far-away village, on a soft mattress with a down comforter instead of a sweatshirt.  Someplace that wasn't filled with these stories, where my memories hadn't traced paths of pain that made this so hard.  This was supposed to be ours, yours and mine alone.  But everywhere waded the pieces of my past, the hauntings of lives once lived and faces long forgotten that had left their deep, cruel marks.

And yet, it didn't matter.  I was happy.  Even though it was clearly in my mind and softly filled the silence, it was okay.  I sat there and let the tapping of my hands on the keyboard, the steady rhythm that had become a part of me in the time you spent asleep, soothe me, and everything was alright.  For once it didn't hurt, didn't burn, didn't seek to destroy me, and I sat there and thought of you asleep at my feet.

I wanted to be the one to wake you up.  To be the face you saw when your eyes opened and your mind shifted back to reality.  But you woke up two minutes before I would have bent down beside you.  It was oddly disappointing in that bittersweet way.  And I don't know why and I don't know how, but it was sad, in that soft and peaceful way that I didn't really mind.

But anyway, I've spent too long dawdling over this, replaying seemingly simple and insignificant moments over again in my mind.  You got up.  We left.  Life went on.  What more can I say?  I do not know what exactly I thought or why, perhaps I can even say that I do not want to.  Because life is like that sometimes, and we don't always have soft beds or blankets or places free of lingering thoughts.  All we can do is make the most of what we have.

Future

For the first time in hell knows how long, really, I'm finally starting my post of the day at a more or less reasonable hour.  Not that that's helping me much.  I'm twitchy and exhausted and entirely unsure of what to think.  This is frustrating.  If I'm not mistaken, I said practically the exact same thing last night.  About the frustration, I mean.

But here I am anyway, trying to put thoughts and twitches into logical words and coherent sentences.  I can't say it's working out particularly well.  Why am I twitchy?  I'm not entirely certain.  I think it probably has something to do with the fact that I've been thinking about the future, and the future is quite a terrifying thing.  It is one of those that is unclear, unknown.  They say that the unknown is terrifying.  Perhaps it is a cliche statement, but it holds true so often.

I'm standing at a fork in the road, but I'm not far enough yet to be able to make a decision, but too far already to change the path I'm on.  Paradoxical, is it not?  I can't have one, I can't have the other.  I'm hanging in the balance and there's nothing I can change and all I can do is just sit here and wait, wait for everything to somehow, hopefully turn out for the best.

I don't know if I really believe in things turning out "for the best" anymore.  It's worth a try, though, anyway.  There's no harm done in that, if only in that it keeps me calm for a little bit.  But part of the problem is that it's not keeping me calm because I'm still confused and still vaguely panicked.  Alas, it'll work itself out.  I've got all of forever to worry about the rest of it.

Frustrated

I'm in a good mood.  A rather good mood.  Things have been going well.  As a whole.  But I'm still frustrated.  I'm really frustrated right now.  And I hate that.  God damn it, why doesn't this work?  Why doesn't it make sense?  Perhaps more importantly, why don't I work?  I'm really frustrated and angry with myself right now, and I need to fix this.

I haven't been able to work lately.  I've been unproductive in the period when it is in fact most important for me to get things done.  I don't know why.  Why doesn't it work like the way it did last year?  I don't have much more to do, I'm not dealing with as much nonsense or panic to set me mentally and emotionally off balance as the case is.  So I don't understand.

I hate this.  It's so damn frustrating.  I really hope that something will change, because it has to, because I can't keep falling behind because I don't know how to focus or what to do about myself.  And it sucks.  I don't even know anymore.  The strangest part is...I'm still in a good mood, a pretty damn good mood.  But this is just somewhat frustrating to me right now...apologies for the rant, I'm done now.

Upset

So again I'm at this point where I have less than an hour left in the day and I still have to blog.  But this time I think it's alright.  For the most part I already know what I want to say, and just have to write it out, put it down in words.  I've known for about five hours now, I could have written this when I first thought of it, but I didn't.  I'm not exactly certain why.  In any case though, I'm writing it now.

I can't talk when I'm upset.  It hurts.  I have perfectly structured sentences and elegant phrases built up in my mind, waiting to be used...and then I never do.  I never say those things that I want to say.  Because it hurts.  Thinking them is easy, it comes quite naturally, and often even expresses the majority of what I think, how I feel, why I am the way I am.  I still can't say it.

Writing it is slightly challenging as well, but once I start, I manage to continue until it is all out in a stream of pain, when it has left my body and taken up residence in text.  But speaking of it, I can't.  It's not that I don't know how; as I've already mentioned, the thoughts are there, perfectly formed, I just can't say them.  I can't open my mouth to utter the sounds necessary to convey my emotions.

I don't like that about myself.  It makes dealing with things more challenging, because perhaps the only thing that hurts more than knowing I can't say them is knowing that I can but not being able to.  So I'm working on it.  I'm learning to open my mouth, trying to make at least a few words come out, making the effort to reach out and function despite the pain.  Maybe it's helping or maybe it's not.  I don't know.  I may never find out.  But I'm still willing to try it in case it really does get better with time.

Long Hours

The past 48 hours have been long.  Very long.  A lot has happened.  And right now I sit here at the conclusion of this space of time with less than half an hour to write up a post for today.  I don't have much of anything to say, really.  Again.  But I realized lately that in thinly veiling things, they have in fact been rather thinly veiled, so I'll just avoid writing about certain things.

On top of it all, I didn't sleep last night.  It was my own fault, and my own stupidity that led to it.  But it doesn't make me particularly capable of understanding things going on around me.  When people come to me right now, confused or upset or generally wanting to make sense of something, I can't exactly do or say much of anything comprehensive because I can't think straight.

I hope that perhaps tomorrow I will have the time to write a better post, or at least one with some coherent flow or logic behind it, unlike the vast majority of my recent ones.  But whatever.  I'm still working things out in my own mind and trying to make sense of things that have happened lately.  Or maybe I don't really care.  Right now, I sure as hell don't.  I'll figure it out, though.  Give it time.

Obligated

I feel obligated to let her know this.  I know that it's not necessary or essential or even truly obligatory.  But I feel almost as though I owe her this.  She is one of my closest friends and has been for a while.  That's what you get when you know someone for that long and have the opportunity to get so close to them...you begin to want to tell them things.

I don't really feel particularly bad about her not knowing.  There's nothing wrong with that.  Hell, I don't even have the least bit of a problem lying about it.  But, well...in this case, I guess it's a bit different.  Because someone else knows who isn't her, who isn't nearly as close to me as she is.  And I feel bad as a result, I feel like I should tell her just because she is that close to me and in a way deserves to know.

I guess it's been bothering me a bit.  Only a little bit, really.  But it's still there.  So now I'm sitting here almost working around the topic with her.  I don't know.  I really don't.  I've got a lot on my mind, any number of things gnawing at me...it's odd.  And I think I'm done writing for today, because this really isn't making any sense.  With that, I'll stop ranting and say good night.

To Stay

Why did you stay?

The thing is, I never really had a choice in that matter.  My choice was one of whether I was going to go or not.  It was that simple.  Once I made the decision to go, I had no choice but to stay where I put myself.  In a way, it was inadvertent.  It was a consequence.  I can't say it's a bad consequence, but it is one nonetheless.  I'm happy with that.

I don't know why I'm still here.  Most of the time, I don't know why I'm here.  Sometimes, I don't even want to be here.  But I guess it's all worth it.  Maybe it's not, but that's fine.  I'm here, in the end.  I'm happy with that fact.  If it wasn't for this, I wouldn't be where I am right now.  I rather like that place in my life.  That's probably just because I'm optimistic about life at the moment.

I know this is incoherent.  I know it's not really covering much of anything.  I'm just saying hell knows what about I don't know which.  But the fact is, I'm still here.  I like being here right now.  It's better than anywhere else I could be at the moment, no matter how hellish it is sometimes.  This is nice.  And I wouldn't have any of it if I wasn't here.  So I guess I'm happy with it.

The Perfect Storm

Once again, it's too late for me to be able to write a really good post (just because that's the way it is for me)...I'm worn out.  But I've had the request, first of all to write something happy, and after not knowing what to say, I received a request from the same person to write about my perfect storm (because it was wonderfully stormy today.....while I was trapped inside).

So my perfect storm...rain.  Lots and lots of rain.  I love rain.  As in I really, really, really love rain.  It's probably one of my favorite things in the world.  Thus, in a perfect storm, it would be pouring.  And I mean, pouring like from buckets, sheets of water cascading from the sky in a majestic display of sheer, awesome power like no other.

It would be night.  Pitch black.  It wouldn't matter if it was a full moon or a new moon, it couldn't be seen for the murk obscuring the sky.  Not a single star would shine.  The only illumination would be lightning.  Bolt after bolt of lighting, almost simultaneous with peals of thunder, booming, shattering the peace.  Everything would crash and break and the world would crumble and collapse in on itself.

The irony is, that it would be the most peaceful time in the world.  It would be so powerful, so destructive, so terrifyingly beautiful, that it would make everything stand still in its ceaseless motion.   There is beauty in absolute havoc, pure ecstasy and unadulterated joy in the darkest, most miserable of events.  The perfect storm is not about the damage, it is about the power, the beauty, everything.

Okay

Tell me what you like, say what you will, explain to me anything you want, run through it piece by piece or simply as one whole.  I'll say the same thing:

Okay.

That's all I can say.  I'm sick of this.  I'm sick of this mess, this nonsense, this moronic nonsense.  I'm done trying to change something.  Fine.  It is what it is, just deal with it.  That's it.  It's not going to change.

I'm not going to kill myself anymore in trying to make it work.  It either works or it doesn't.  I'm tired of maybes and in-betweens.  The irony of that is that every single time I say this, that each time I claim to be done, really done, I never act on that, I always return to it.  Perhaps that speaks to a low opinion of myself, or to a fear of well, just about everything, but it is what it is.

I should do the same thing.  I should stop screwing myself over.  Should.  Because I know my own stupidity well enough to know that I'm not going to.  And I'm an idiot for it.  I get myself into this nonsense and maintain it no matter how much it hurts or how bad I know it to be for myself.  That is pathetic.  I am ridiculous.  And I still don't know why I do.

This.  This hurts.  I didn't admit it then, and I'll probably resent myself for admitting it now.  But that hurt.  A lot.  I wanted to lash out.  I still don't know why I didn't.  In a way, writing this is the same as lashing out, it will probably have that same effect.  It isn't intended to.  But by now, I know full well that intent doesn't change much.

I give up.

I'm sick of fighting.  Fighting for this.  Fighting against this.  It'll be better this way if I just let it go.  So I'm letting it go.  I'm letting it all go.  Is it worth fighting for?  Maybe.  But I don't have enough left in me to do that anymore.  I'm sorry.  That's just it.  That's all I can say:

Okay. 

Ice Cream

So now it's later than I'd like it to be.  Again.  And I have no amusing anecdotes about the behavior of my fish to share right now.  With the possible exception of the fact that I felt guilty about not feeding him ramen earlier today...but that's not much of a story.  So now I have to find some words to fill up this empty space, because I'll feel bad if I don't.

I'm sitting here right now, trying to come up with the words.  I've got plenty to say, but most of it shouldn't be said, or at the very least doesn't need to be.  So I'm eating ice cream.  Why the hell am I eating ice cream in the first place?  Second of all, it's black cherry ice cream.  I don't like cherries or anything flavored like them.  So why am I eating this?

I'm not sure.  It's taking my mind off of things.  Most of them are things I actually rather enjoy thinking about, really, but that's beside the point.  My body is in overdrive right now, and it needs to calm down.  The ice cream is helping with that.  If nothing more, it gives me a slight sense of bitter normalcy that is very much needed by me right now.  So I guess maybe I do have a reason for eating it.  That still doesn't mean I should be...

Random

Yet again, it's much later than I'd like it to be for me to start blogging.  I tell you, this has recently become a major trend, and not necessarily much of one that I am particularly fond of.  But I guess that since I'm making myself write anyway, I might as well fill this with something more positive and less "so I failed at blogging at a reasonable hour again today."

With that in mind, I might as well fill this with something mildly entertaining.  Well, I got myself a wonderful fish last weekend.  And he is adorable, I must admit.  But anyway, this was last weekend.  So this morning I figured the poor thing could use a water change.  I went to do that, and apparently chipped the glass bowl he was previously in.

So as I'm pouring in water after I'd cleaned everything, I see this stream of water coming from the bottom of the bowl and into the sink.  Needless to say, then I realized that there was a hole in the bottom of the damn bowl.  After spending half an hour trying to figure out how to mend a hole in glass, I gave up.  He now lives in the pitcher from my water filter.  He seems pretty happy in there, too.  So that was my random anecdote, since I've got nothing really more to say right now and I think this is better than random rambling about my failure at writing.

Today

Once again, it's late.  Only today this was almost intentional, to an extent.  I put off writing for as long as I could. This is a hard post to write.  I know full well what I am perhaps almost expected to write it about, I know what's on my mind, and I know that despite those two being pretty much one and the same, it's not something I can actually write here.

So I'm left with the choice of working around the subject and leaving a fragmented shell of explanation that raises more questions than it answers, even for me, or finding something else to write about tonight.  The thing is, I don't want to write about anything else.  But this...this is one of those things that I will go back and probably write about tomorrow morning in the private files that other people don't get to read.

I'll say what I can though, since it's on my mind.  This is most likely as much as I'm willing to say to anyone on the topic, although there may be a few questions I'm willing to entertain.  It seems unreal.  But that's been the case every time.  I figure that after a while, it will become ordinary, if not mundane, once I've come to terms with the idea again.  In the meantime, though, it doesn't feel as though it's happened, even though I know full well it has.

This has always had a strange effect of uncertainty for me.  That's what I get for having possibilities in mind, if not things so concrete as expectations.  It leaves me sitting here, wondering what it means, what it changes, what it says about me or my life or anything else, for that matter.  I don't know.  I didn't know then, I don't know now.

I can say for certain relatively few things, some of which include the following.  I am not upset.  I do not regret it.  I am happy about it.  But beyond that, I'm clueless as to what my mental and emotional response to it has been.  It doesn't change my emotions on the overarching circumstances, but perhaps because of the anticipation, it feels as though perhaps something should change, should be significantly altered or something...but I don't think it is.

I've been through this before.  Not in the same way, far from it, actually, but I have.  That makes it easier in a way.  It lessens one sense of significance.  It reduces a particularly large factor and allows me to focus on the rest, which is still far form neat, emotionally.  And that's all I can really say right now.  I've got nothing more reasonable in my mind.  I can't think straight.  I feel a headache about to destroy any sense of reason I have left, and I think this is a good time to wrap this up before I say too much.

On the whole, today has been a good day.  A very good day.  I've been in a good mood through pretty much all of it, which doesn't happen too often, and I'm getting to bed relatively early (because I feel like I'm about to pass out right now, but that's beside the point).  So with that, good night and hopefully my thoughts will straighten themselves out in due time.

Time Per Day

There's not enough time in a day for me anymore.  There are so many things I want or need to do, so many places to see, people to be with, it's ridiculous.  Because now, I keep finding myself here after 10 pm, typing frantically at my keyboard still with plenty more to get done, hoping to get this writing out of the way because I didn't have time for it before.

It's not a matter of there actually being any less time than there was before.  It just feels that way because now I'm perpetually doing something that doesn't allow me to write at the same time.  On the one hand, that's extremely frustrating because I haven't written anything half-decent in quite a while.  On the other, it's extremely pleasant as I've actually had things to do most of the time rather than sitting in boredom.

So now I figure it would be a good idea for me to wrap this all up and get back to that crucial work that I really should do tonight.  Because goodness knows there's quite enough of it.  But I'm in a good mood.  Which is somewhat odd, but I'm not complaining.  I'll make the most of it and actually go back to that work now, hopefully to have a better post tomorrow.

Explain

Once again, I start this later than I'd like, with work to do and other thoughts in mind.  This isn't the mood I like to be in when I write.  Maybe that's just it lately.  Maybe the job of this blog is done, effectively.  I'm not sure why that just came to mind or how it can be the case when I didn't start writing anything with a goal in mind, but that's what entered my thoughts, so I wrote it down.

I wonder if I didn't start this with a subconscious need to just get enough thoughts out, to trap enough of myself in something distinctly separate from me, just until I could survive with all of it again, until I didn't need to put it all down elsewhere.  I had no idea why I started blogging really, I just did.  I did it because I wanted to, because it seemed nice.  I guess it wound up serving much more of a purpose than just that.

Keeping this up every day may very well have saved my sanity.  I needed to put the thoughts down before they consumed me, and I needed to know that there was a chance of them reaching someone else.  That's what this did for me.  It let me whine and complain and break down all I wanted without really being a burden on people, without running to them and taking up their time.  Yet at the same time, it gave me the hope that perhaps someone would in fact read it, that my thoughts and pains would no longer be my own.

Perhaps someone else did read it, perhaps not.  For most days, I will never know which was the case.  But that's not what mattered then.  What mattered was the fact that it was possible, that I had hope.  That's what really saved me then.  And it seems like I need it less and less now, like I'm able to save myself better than I could then.  So maybe I really don't need to blog anymore.

The thing is, though, I fully intend to keep blogging.  Maybe most of my posts from here on out will wind up being terrible and full of nonsense and just there to fill up space because I make myself write, but hopefully some of them will carry something of worth, have some sort of value, be meaningful at least to some extent, so that either I or someone else could gain something from them.  I still like writing.  Just because I don't have to doesn't mean that I won't.

Again

So here I am again, an hour before the end of the day, in all technicality, and I still haven't written anything.   Oops.  This needs to stop.  Really.  And once again, I find myself with technically many things to say, but nothing really to write, because once again, I am in completely the wrong mindset for writing and  that makes it difficult to do this right now.

I'm filling up space.  It's bad.  But I have absolutely nothing to express.  Or rather, I've got plenty that I want to express, just no way to really express it.  Not in words at least.  Perhaps not even in actions.  Emotions are complicated for me like that...I don't think or feel in words or images or anything.  Which makes it hard when I want to express or explain them.

I'm more or less drowning in a sea of thoughts and emotions right now, and I either don't want to put them down or just simply don't know how to.  Perhaps that explains why my posts lately have been so bad, or perhaps it doesn't.  Either way, I know my writing has been absolutely horrible lately.  I sincerely apologize for all that, and hope that tomorrow will be better.  Although I said that yesterday and it didn't exactly happen...

Steel

Implanting steel blades under fingernails.  Deadly.  Beautiful.  The appeal of that thought is strange.  It carries a certain attraction to me that is absolutely irresistible, completely irrational, and nothing short of absolutely incredible.  Maybe it's just the way I am with weapons, or perhaps merely knives.  But they hold this ridiculous level of appeal in my mind.

I've been told that this desire makes me entirely irrational and completely messed up in the head.  Maybe it does.  I can't say I really care.  Because I like that, I want that.  Maybe it does make me cavalier with my body or possessive of irrational desires.  But I don't really care.  I'm not sure why that's so appealing to me or what it is that drives me to that, but it does.  And something about it is nothing short of enthralling to me.

I'm sorry.  This is a terrible post.  I had fully intended to write it several hours ago because the thought has been in my mind for half of the day.  But alas, I hadn't.  So here I am, in the wrong mindset to be writing, trying to put this down into text.  And it's not coming out well...at all.  But I'm finishing off this post anyway.  Hopefully I'll write something better tomorrow.  I'll be really disappointed if I don't.

Understand

I have nothing to say.

I have spent the entire day putting off writing this, trying to find something worthwhile to put into words, anything that could convey the barest and finest threads of my emotions or express the thoughts spinning webs within my tired, tattered brain.  And here I am, approaching the end of the day, forcing words out of this mess because I have nothing elegant I can present.

It's all been like this lately, for the most part.  The most insightful thoughts, I have not the words to express, and the rest are either so bitter or so unoriginal that they do not merit mention in writing of any form.  So here I am again, just as I have been day after day, filling the space as I demand of myself, hoping that one day something will fall together again.

A friend told me today that she couldn't fathom how it was that I blogged every single day.  I told her exactly what I tell myself--I make myself do it.  If I didn't do it every day, I would never do it.  So I set a minimum length requirement for each post, and make sure that whether it takes two minutes or two hundred, I sit down and make a post out of whatever may be floating in the recesses of my mind.

Sometimes it hurts too much to say what I really think.  Other times I have absolutely no clue where lie my thoughts.  And then I have to guess, waffle, or invent something to put down.  I wish I had anything truly worthy of writing lately, but nothing brilliant has struck me in many months.  Yet I continue to fill this space with empty words.  Perhaps I am hoping to once more find my muse and be able to express myself again, or perhaps it is merely a habit that will soon fall away.  I do not know.  I guess all I can do is wait and see how this turns out.

One Good Reason

Please. 

Please, just give me one good reason not to.  Today has been hell.  It has been an infinitely worse inferno than I could have imagined possible.  I knew there was a reason I didn't want to be here.  There were a number of reasons.  Unfortunately, I didn't have a choice in the matter.  So here I am, two hours later than I had hoped to be long gone, trying not to cry my eyes out, trying to find one good reason. 

Just one.  And I can't find it.  I know this isn't going to end.  Ever.  It'll just continue on and keep getting worse until it destroys me entirely.  If it hasn't already, that is.  Because if this shell of me sitting here typing this right now isn't destroyed, I don't know what is.  I don't know how to stop this or change this or even survive this anymore.  I don't know if it's already too late.  I think it is.

Stop me.  Please.  I don't want to but I can't anymore.  Don't save me from myself.  Save me from this hell.  Save me from everything that I can't control right now.  I'm begging you.  Please.  I can't do this anymore.  I can't. 

Month

It's been almost a month since I last sat here.  In this chair.  At this desk.  In this room.  In this house.  In this city.  And I don't really want to be sitting here even now.  But I am.  Because I have somewhere to be.  And something to do.  And I can't do it from where I was a mere two hours ago.  It wouldn't really be better even if I could.  But I can hope.

This isn't really what I want to be writing.  I don't exactly know what it is that I do want to say.  But I know how it feels and I know that there's no way for me to use words to explain it.  So I'm sitting here anyway, my eyes glued to the screen, incapable of work, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep because it means I wouldn't have to think.

I want to say something moving and powerful and emotional and vivid.  I want to say something that will make the heart beat faster or the breath catch in one's throat.  But I don't know how to.  I can't make it mean something or matter, I can only promise that to me, it does.  Which doesn't really mean much of anything to anyone else, and understandably so.

There's so much I could say, write, express.  But at the same time, I can't.  I'm not sure why, but I know that it's not for me to type here, perhaps not for me to ever mention.  Maybe it's only because of how cliche it would sound if I did say it or write it.  But I can't say any of it.  Not here.  Not now.  Not like this.  So I'll go back to thinking those thoughts and wishing I could express them in the only way I really can without diluting them or making them into something they're not.

Politeness

It seems almost as though in today's fast-paced, intense world, nobody appreciates a few simple words, those simple statements of sincerity and appreciation.  And maybe they really don't mean very much at this point in time.  It's so simple to make an order, a request, and expect it to be filled correctly and quickly with few words and as little personal interaction as possible.

Given that, why would anyone bother to say "please," or "thank you," or anything of the sort.  It takes up time and adds excess effort to the process of simply get something.  This simple equation of giving and receiving, this simple exchange of goods and services is elegant.  However, it leaves out a fundamentally inelegant aspect of the interactions that occur: human nature.

People are involved in all of these interactions and exchanges.  And the thing with people is that they are not simple machines, they do not simply go through these events with no personal consequence.  People want to be gratified, they want their emotions attended to and respected.  So politeness still retains its place in today's world.

Humans want to be satisfied, they want their efforts appreciated.  As a result, those who gratify this desire, who are polite and respectful, tend to get a few minor, simple rewards.  They may be small and inconsequential, but they likewise satisfy that human desire to be appreciated.  Thus cycles (and not vicious ones, for once) are established of gratitude, appreciation, and contentment.

Difficulty In Expression

Why is it so difficult to say something?  It is hard to put thoughts and feelings into words, to make them come out as a rational and comprehensible stream of syllables that will convey the desired meaning, without misrepresenting anything or saying the wrong thing.  Expression is complicated.  It is not merely the words that are said but also how they are said, the intonation, the implications behind it all.

Revealing thoughts and feelings is complicated.  It involves taking risks.  It calls for guts, and those are hard to come by.  Very much so.  And as a result, it always boils down to that one moment when suddenly squirming is no longer worth it and hiding it further is just excruciating and awkward and suddenly it all pours out.  It's never beautiful, oftentimes not even reasonable.

This is human communication.  This is what is considered necessary and essential to interactions between people and proper relations.  Knowing that somehow doesn't really make it any easier, though.  Because having to say things and express them and admit to the truth...that's still difficult.  Maybe it gets better with time, a bit easier...or maybe not.  Either way, it is what it is.  No more, no less.

Cessation

In a moment, everything can change.  Every word unspoken, each question unanswered, the last thought forsaken once and for all.  Everything stops.  All becomes still.  Movement ceases.  Thought matters no more.  It is the end.  Bitter or sweet, sympathetic or frigid, it is what it is.  Nothing more, nothing less.  No fancy symbolism, no imposing metaphor.

This is the end.  It is not decorated, it does not announce itself.  It lays itself softly down and leaves everything else abandoned.  No more thoughts to permeate the peaceful stillness, no more rash words or actions to force harsh consequences.  Everything is quiet and gentle.  Nothing matters.  It does not need to anymore.  For, after all, it is quite simply the end.

It is not a moment of shame nor of pride.  It does not in itself reek of triumph nor of failure.  It is quite simply an affirmation of a conclusion.  It indicates finality and transience.  Everything stops moving and mattering.  Equilibrium is reestablished and balance pervades each silent mind, every stilled heart.  There is no longer motion or causation to throw it off.

This is the end.  It does not hurt, it does not heal.  It simply is.  Until it ceases to be.

Cause For Concern

This is rather worrying.  What exactly is this, you may ask?  This is my current state of mind.  I don't know what it is.  It may have something to do with the three-day weekend, it may just be the senseless flood of panic and pain that is currently enveloping me, or it may be nothing short of pure insanity.  Either way, it worries me.  Significantly.  And I don't like that.

I have no idea what's been going on lately.  I've been missing deadlines like crazy, forgetting what's supposed to happen when, being unable to get anything done, and generally losing track of my entire life.  It's really scary.  Because I have no idea when the next important thing I'm going to miss is going to come around and bite me in the ass.

I mean, I have no idea how I managed to misread or misinterpret that...twice.  I have no clue how I missed that date being thrown out there.  And I'm entirely lost as to why the hell I didn't know something else.  All in all, I am in a complete state of panic right now.  I feel like I have absolutely no control left in my life and I want it all to calm down and start making sense again.

It's not about to do that, though.  This is problematic.  Now, I have to try to get my life back together without having any clue what fell apart in the first place.  I don't even know why this is bothering me so much right now.  I mean, maybe it's just because this time it was relatively minor and probably excusable but I'm infinitely fearful of what happens when it's not so minor and really messes something up.

In short, I am a mess right now, again.  I'm not overly reacting to this in any outward fashion, but really, I'm freaking out.  I was really hoping to write a thoughtful, deliberate post today.  I guess that's not going to happen anytime soon.  Sorry.  Again.

Strangely Unproductive Absolution

Today has been strange.  I've done very little.  Really.  Barely anything.  And I've probably had about three gallons of green tea to drink.  So right now, I'm in a really, really strange mood.  Reality isn't really fitting together the way it should.  Which is strange.  But at the same time, I'm not overly concerned about it...not really so, at least.

I rather like this three-day weekend thing.  Because right now, I absolutely don't give a damn.   And that's okay. That's because I don't need to think about absolutely anything tomorrow.  Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.  Yeah, that phrase just about summarizes how out of it I am.  I don't know.  I can't think straight.  At all.  I still don't really care about that.

Alright, I think I'm going to try to wrap this up pretty quickly.  This makes no sense.  It never really did to begin with.  I can't say I'm overly concerned.  But I probably shouldn't be spewing this much random nonsense onto the internet, especially when I'm not paying particularly attention to what the hell it is that's coming out of my thoughts and onto the screen.  So I'll actually stop now.  Sorry about that.

Excitement

Despite having been completely exhausted and entirely lacking in desire to do anything for most of the day, I find myself full of energy and anticipation now.  Now, I have ideas and schemes and prospects and possibilities to look forward to.  None of them are particularly serious or life-changing, but they are what I need to keep me awake right now...they are fresh, relevant, and most of all exciting.

So this is going to be interesting.  Very interesting.  All of it.  It's going to be fun.  I've been needing that for quite some time, and now that I have the opportunity, I'm going to take full advantage of it.  I'm going to thoroughly enjoy this year because that's really what it's for.  The interesting thing is, I'm going to do most of this without breaking any rules, which seems to be a change from the way I've done things before.

But that's okay, I don't mind at all.  Frankly, this way I get to have more fun and get caught for less.  It's definitely going to be very interesting.  And I'm very excited, as if that wasn't obvious from something like, you know, the title of this post.  I apologize, of course, for not revealing any of the details of these endeavors, but they will become perfectly clear to certain individuals as time goes on.  All that matters right now is that I can't wait.

Lonely

I'm sitting here.  All alone.  In my room.  Wearing a bathrobe.  In complete silence.  Avoiding work.

This is a strange feeling.  I realize now that I haven't really been this alone in a while.  I guess I have to extrapolate on that, because it doesn't really make sense unless I elaborate on just what I mean by "this alone."  I've been very alone throughout the course of this week.  There have been times when I couldn't talk to anybody, especially not those who meant most to me, and there have been times when I've been waiting anxiously for someone to come to me and nobody has, and there have been times where I've sat around knowing that something was going to happen at a designated time, but just not yet.

But this is different.  Right now, I'm not anticipating anything.  There's nowhere I could be where something is more likely to happen than something else, nothing I can do to make anything happen, no thoughts I can think that will really change this.  And in that, I am alone.  It's not a bitter loneliness, merely a particularly poignant one.  I'm so aware of it, so aware of my detachment from the rest of the world, of my lack of reliance on anybody for anything in this one moment.  It's nice.

Despite the fact that I've been running on way too little sleep this past week and that I've gone through several different levels of hell, I'm happy right now, I'm calm, I'm content.  Right now, I feel like I have control.  In this silence that nobody may disrupt, in this moment of rumination, I can really breathe.  The rest of the world does not pertain to me, it cannot touch me.  Nothing can hurt me except for myself.  It's this steady sense of power and control.

I haven't felt that in a long time.  I haven't really sat down with only my own thoughts in a while.  It's usually been tainted with work or concerns for other people.  But right now, there's nothing I can do about any of it.  Or even though I know I can, I don't need to, everything is fine in the balance it is currently at.  This peace will only last so long.  I will only be isolated for whatever period of time, and I'm glad about that because I like people, too, just certain ones in much smaller doses.

While it lasts, though, this is nice.  This is good for me on occasion, too.  I'm almost thinking that I should start meditating again, even though I haven't done that in years.  That's how calm I am right now.  But I don't think I'm going to.  I'd probably fall asleep if I tried.  The funny part about that is, I'm okay with it.  I don't mind being tired.  I can live at this level of fatigue and get through it just fine, even be happy on occasion (although admittedly not as often as I'd like).

This level of control is good for me.  It lets me know that everything is alright.  I need that reminder.  I need it often.  I like occasionally being able to reassure my own doubtful mind of that.  That's what moments like these are good for.  This silence, this peace, this calm and blissful solitude that has no expectations and no demands, this is what keeps me whole, what keeps me going, keeps me alive.  I need it for that.  It feels good.

Calm

I'm sitting here in this wonderfully large break in my day.  Just sitting here.  I can hear the rain hitting the roof of the building.  I want to go outside.  I want to feel it soaking through my clothes and cleaning the bitterness, the misery, the agony of the past few days away.  Even without being in it, I feel it happening anyway.  People say that rain cleanses.  Whether that's true or not, right now, something is cleansing me.

I feel like I'm finally getting caught up with work (more or less), finally sorting this mess out, finally crawling out of the hole I've been in.  I don't know why, but I woke up feeling better today.  Maybe that's just because I woke up next to someone, although more likely not.  I think I'm just finally starting to figure things out.  I'm tired enough that I don't have the energy to dwell on things or obsessively worry.  So I'm calm.  And this feels peaceful.

It's nice.  I can maybe even say that I'm happy.  That's definitely a good thing.  My writing is different right now.  I just noticed that, even though it's unrelated to everything else.  The sentences are shorter.  My thoughts are simpler.  Maybe not getting enough sleep can be good sometimes.  I like it this way.  I feel like I could crawl into bed and disappear for a bit and be warm and calm and happy.  The only real change from right now I guess is that I'd be in bed and warm.

That's good.  And good things haven't happened often this past week.  Part of me is really tired and does just want to curl up in a warm, fuzzy corner and sleep.  I'm trying really hard not to do that, though, because I have somewhere to be in 20 minutes.  Which is a shame.  Because otherwise I very well might go grab a blanket and fall asleep here.  That would be nice.

I guess the point of this is that I'm calm.  That I'm possibly even happy.  That I finally feel like maybe I can deal with all of this again.  This is good.  I want to keep it this way.

Deserving

I'm not the one who deserves better.

That just occurred to me.  So here I am, in my standard pathetic, self-loathing, pitying state.  And that's when things like this hit me.  Because I am pathetic.  I can't make anything of all of the opportunities that have presented themselves to me, and all I can do is sit here on days like today, miserable and frustrated and pathetic.  It's no question why times like now I hate myself.

Yes, I am still depressed.  No, it hasn't gotten better.  Honestly, part of me doesn't want to fix it.  That part is perfectly content to be here and doing nothing and feeling pathetic and loathing my existence.  That's the point I'm at right now.  I don't want to get better.  I want it all to keep hurting.  And that makes me a terrible person, I'm fully aware.

I can't really do anything right anymore.  I think I've been saying that for a while now.  So maybe it's all just the same.  Or maybe I've just gotten worse.  Again.  Really, it wouldn't be the first time that's happened when I haven't been paying attention to myself.  I have no idea how this keeps happening or why or really anything.  I'm just depressed and confused right now, and I really don't want to do anything.

In my wonderful tradition of keeping up vicious cycles, I know that if I don't do anything, as is my desire, I will wind up being more upset by that and feeling more miserable and pathetic as a result.  Then I'll want to do less and in turn wind up feeling worse.  I hate this.  I really hate this.  I'm tired of vicious circles and pain and not being able to be happy or enthusiastic about anything and I'm tired of hating myself.

And because I'm so damn pathetic that I hate it all but don't do anything whatsoever to change it, I wind up hating myself that much more as a result.  I'd say this has to stop, but I know that I'm too inept to change it and that it won't.  So I'll just stop ranting and go back to sitting here feeling miserable, getting nothing done, and hating myself.