Here’s to my second blog, which I didn’t think I’d find time to write.
There’s a lot of stuff going on in my head;
I completed my symphony today, and tomorrow I am going to burn it. I have it in my head and that’s the only place it’s safe from the theiving hands and minds of those around me.
Today was very busy aside from my completion of the symphony; I worked from 5-10:30, and then Stephanie and I went to pick out our fish, along with Ashlie and Amanda. It’s a Betta, named Faggotfins. In any other case the name could be considered derogatory, but such isn’t so in ours so don’t worry. I’m gay.
When I last wrote I had a very high fever. This concluded with a horrible nightmare, before I awoke as healthy as anyone else. The nightmare can’t really be explained, because in words, it’s really not terrible at all. I murdered 6 people that I didn’t know, and then asked my friend to cover up for me. A friend I’ve only hung out with once, but have talked to online for many months now. It was a very queer dream but I can’t say it was the queerest my mind has conjured. In any case; I awoke with a startling realization.
I have a mind.
Don’t get me wrong; I’ve always known I had a brain. My brain is what tells me when people are constantly spelling words like “extreamly” wrong. My brain is the location in which all of my body’s chemical imbalances are rooted. My brain works in a very involuntary manner; I don’t control it, it always does the work for me.
I’ve always thought with my heart before; Nothing is logical in matters of relationships. However the mind is a very powerful tool.
My mind is what I control. My mind is what tells me not to care that you constantly spell things wrong even though you rub your education in my face. My mind is what decides that I need to fix my homosexuality…my obsessive compulsive disorder…my schizotypal personality…all the things that are wrong with me.
Today my mind has danced freely through the fields of philosophy. Perhaps I’ve opened my mind in hopes that it will help me to script the essay that will decide the worth of my admission to Columbia, or perhaps I’m just becoming to the person I was almost one year ago. The latter, of course, would be best, so I can forget everything that’s happened the over the past 9 months. So I can return to the carefree lighthearted person I once was. So I can recover from the heartbreak I so deviantly earned. In any case, it was there, the openness of my mind that such thoughts were conceived:
Some of the most treasured experiences are those where a friend doubts you; Grasp those experiences and use them as an opportunity to prove them wrong.
Human nature is to always be right. Most people are stubborn when they think they’re right, just because they want to prove that they are so.
Therefore the challenge presented by a doubt in the mind of a friend is just an opportunity to be siezed; The opportunity to strenghten their hope and faith in you.
My mind also made the comparison of love to flying – I’m not supporting the existence of such an emotion; love is inexistent in my mind – however, the concept, as generalized by much of the population, can be compared to flying. You’re only allowed so much baggage. In that baggage, particular items are certain to hold you back – pull you out, because of their possible danger in the situation. The only difference is that with weapons on actual flights, they are a true danger; Lives are at stake. However, in love, the “prohibited baggage” is really no danger at all. People are just too afraid to deal with it, so it causes automatic rejection.
My final thought, more or less a realization, of the day was that I have no goals. I have dreams. Goals are defined as objectives; A reasonably achievable desire. One should never set goals, but dream. Dreaming will always push you farther.
Now that I’m done thinking for the night, I can finish my blog;
What am I feeling right now…well, right now I’m feeling quite inadequate. Unhappy. Stressed. Hopeless. In love. Hateful. Pissed, agitated, depressed and anxious.
The thoughts that run through my head never seem to have tired feet; My mind is at work throughout both my conscious day and my unconscious night, churning out thoughts of the most unpleasant possibilities; Him with someone else. Me with someone else.
I’m not prepared to move on, nor do I think I ever will be. I want him in my life as a friend, if nothing more. I want him to always be my closest friend. That was what he was all along – my closest friend. Although before there was romance and trust and all the other things that set a relationship apart from a friendship before, and those things will probably never resurface, I still want him in my life as my best friend.
But it seems as though he wants no existence in my life at all. It wouldn’t be a good idea for us to hang out. It’s not a good idea for us to talk. I don’t even have his phone number anymore. And for what? The simple fear that I may try to kill myself again? Or was that never really the case to begin with? I need him now more than ever, and now more than ever, he’s distancing himself from me. His actions always seemed to contradict his words, there was always an apparent lack of communication on both of our ends; There were many things that I wanted to tell him but couldn’t, and I’m sure he was in the same situation. The combination of this, and as anyone else would have me believe, my paranoia, is what makes me feel he never loved me. That they were just shallow words. I love him more than anything in the world, and I trust him more than anyone else in my life, but somehow I can’t trust that he really did love me. I wish I could, but I just can’t. And I’ll never have the proof that he did again. All the times I said “I love you” and he said “yup”, those were times where I should have questioned it…but instead I was hurt. I didn’t say anything because I knew it was just his personality…but it hurt me so much that he didn’t say it back whenever I said it to him. The only assurance I ever had of his true feelings was when I looked into his beautiful eyes…I could just see that he meant it.
Sadly, now I wonder. Sadly, I want to die right now. Now more than ever, I feel that my existence isn’t needed. He most certainly doesn’t need me, he’s proven that by moving on and finding someone else. My family doesn’t need me, I’m more of a burden than anything else to them. My friends really don’t need me, all I am is a burden on them as well – they’re always helping me and yet there’s never anything I can do to help them.
I wish I could say that I wanted to live. I wish that I could be grateful for the second chance I was given at life when I departed Provena Mercy’s inpatient center. But I’m not. The greater part of me, my heart, wishes that I could go back to that night and continue on the path to death so I could at least die with the belief that he loved me. With the misconception that he actually wanted to be with me, but was afraid it wouldn’t work. With that last bit of hope that he really did love me.
I’m no stronger now than I was when I swallowed that bottle and a half of pills. The difference now, is that I’m glad I was able to come clean with him. He deserves at least that. But now that I’ve done so and he still doesn’t need me, I don’t need life.
I’m not going to attempt suicide again…if I ever do, I will complete it, not attempt it. But that day is far off in the distance.
As Thai says, “one miserable day at a time”. I just wish I would’ve listened to Jim and Paul months ago when they said that he wasn’t treating me right. Not because they were right; He never treated me wrong, and the time I spent with him was the most joyful of my existence thus far. But had I left him then, before I had sex with him, when I was still only 99% sure that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life, I’d be in much less pain now. And he’d be in no different an emotional state than he is now. I’m not one to sacrifice one’s happiness for my own, as a matter of fact, I’m the opposite. Everyone comes before me, it’s part of my personality. But I half wish that I would’ve left him then. Because some part of me knows that Jim was right, and he still is.
It’s never a comfort to come to such conclusions. It doesn’t provide the closure we so often hear about. What it does provide, however, is that one chance to think what you’re going to do differently next time. It’s like detective work; You can work on one case while leaving another open. You can go back to that open case ten years later and complete whatever work you had started after forgetting about it and clearing your mind for a while.
In any case, I guess that’s it for now. I need sleep so I can get some shopping done today, and so I can finish my essay. Here’s to another night of crying myself to sleep 🙁
How I miss you…