I sort of hate my uncensored diary. I guess the point of it is to journal things and then never have to think about them again… but still. I never want to see or think about those things again. And mostly I just find myself wishing I wouldn’t have written them down.
Love is fluid and definitionless, I think, as i try to touch your knees. Like capturing you in my and old favorite song will make you more real, if not more permanent. Are you awake? And there is no reply. So I keep holding on. Love is a piano dropped from a four story window and you were at the wrong place, at the wrong time, I think as I try to sleep without contact, thinking so this is what it feels like to be you and you and you.
As I sleep, I dream of conversations in which I assured you and you and you that he and she and he meant nothing. And, I’m sorry.
I don’t want to hide this from people anymore. It’s something that happened to me and as difficult as it is… I need to come to terms with it. And it seems that even with those whom you hold in greatest confidence… sometimes stories trickle out to people who suddenly become on a “need to know” list which you have no control over.
I spent wednesday night in Stormont Vail Behavioral Health Clinic because I am having an extremely difficult time dealing with the everyday life. It’s not even that I’m particularly stressed out. it’s more that I don’t know how to handle freetime without obsessing over my problems, flaws, and insecurities and sinking into dark depressions.
I know that I have isolated myself from people who really care about me and who really want to be there for me. While these actions were often carried out while I understood the full weight of what I was doing, I felt mostly powerless as I knew that allowing these people to be there for me would basically guarantee that I would have to acknowledge the problem. I believe that I’ve apologized to the people who I have harmed most as a result of this. Still, I want it to be known to everyone that I have apologized to people and that I am now conscious of what I was doing and the reasons behind that. I thank everyone for their understanding and for being by me at this time.
I don’t want anyone to blame themselves for this. Whoever you may be. I’m in a rough spot in my life and I am learning to get out of it by myself. No skill could be more important. If you’re a close friend or whatever… I need you to be understanding that I may not be the best person when it comes to consoling you right now. I may not be the best at cheering you up. And I may not be the typical “fixer” that I usually am in life. I need to focus on myself. Please take full advantages of whatever resources you have outside of me. If you’re not a close friend or whatever… just be understanding when those people who you are close to in your life go through a time of immense need. Understand that we don’t mean to push you away the way that we do… we just don’t know how to get help for ourselves and are terrified to let other people force us to get that help. Pray for us. Talk to us. Continue to ask us out even when we turn it down again and again. Tell our parents that we’re going through a tough time when they call to accuse you of not being there for us. There is no greater friendship than the one that understands and survives depression.
All my love.
Let’s be free.
Today didn’t go quite as well as I’d hoped. But it’s ended really well… and that’s what matters. I wish I could better explain the little things that seem so silly to everyone else but matter so much to me.
I also wish I had more conditioner. Yah, I bet that would be great.
I’m listening to “She belongs to me” by Bob Dylan which is fun because I haven’t heard it in forever.
The version is different.
The theme seems odd.
I am not that girl anymore. But someday….
Maybe tomorrow when I wear my swank party dress to all the new years eve parties?
I went out to Burnett’s mound yesterday. It was a really good idea. Just being able to look at everything all small, even if it is a beautiful view of a ugly part of town. Oh my my. I mostly just looked and sat and talked and took lots of beautiful pictures. I really like my new camera. I’m almost glad that the girl at Best Buy was a total bitch to me so I had to replace the camera I was returning in store. I just love me some Kodaks. And my brand loyalty is intense.
Later, maybe I will knit and explore the side of me that is an artist. I’m excited about what I’m doing in my life. I’m excited to be able to share it. It’s nice to work on de-isolating myself… even if I’m sort of bad at that.
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The weather was delivered in the form
of a novel, or a non-fiction, written to inform
some reader of a setting which was not their own;
inside, this was neither
Susanna Kaysen’s therapy center
nor George Adams’s prison
and yet I was holding onto my socks
considering
the black-white-black-white ice cream store floor
or the state of being out of the typical pattern:
an intellectual.
and there we were
parading through the hall
like ghosts on their way to breakfast.
a meal of fake eggs
and fake cheese
and no questions
no conversation.
We are children reliving ourselves.
Perhaps someday this entry will be public. But not today.
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i could hide the truth of this pain
with the word hospital
and i could hope people would assume
tragedy and ignore the obvious.
no one sees me often enough
to imagine my dreams of coping
with slashed wrists
or swallowed pills
with gunshot wounds
or far-away sidewalks
with knifes in stomachs
or the slow suicide
of food depravation.
I have no one to blame but myself,
he said,
no one can hurt you but you
and i think in that statement
i died, just a little
hiding on the elevator
riding it up and down
waiting for a friend
or an enemy
for a new story to cry about
and
waiting for your unpredictable silence,
i bought new shoes.
I’ve been listening to the Decemberists all night which has put me in a relatively nice mood. Though some of it makes me sad and sort of melancholy… they at least sound pretty happy. I listened to all of Castaways and Cutouts and I’m now on track 2 of Her Majesty. Yay. I’ve been knitting too. Working on that hat. It’s a really good experience, as far as knitting goes, cos I’ve never done a purl stitch before. And this hat forces me to do three of them after every three knit stiches for a fun ribbing pattern that you can’t really pickout cos it’s such a fuzzy yarn anyway… i’m sure it’ll be more obvious when the hat is more knitted… I like it a lot. I love the yarn color the most I think. It’s just so exciting. watching it turn into a knit object. and i think it’s sort of sad almost to see the skein unwind. in this really fascinating way.
I sort of meant to be blog about identity (againagainagain) but then i got distracted. I guess right now I think we’re all transitory. That is just an excuse to use the word transitory again.
“Will you stay here? For a while, dear? Till the radio plays something familiar.” – The Decemberists, “Billy Liar”
Oh, also, I’m excited cos my friend John who I haven’t talked to in years and I have been commenting on each others myspaces. How fun.
