I have a peak that I quickly hit when feeling anything. It's just above trembling with rage but just below screaming bloody hellfire. I try to avoid hitting this peak, because if I do all the energy drains out of me at once and I go back to zero. Feeling nothing. Needless to say, this gets frustrating. Yet another reason I have to constantly keep myself in check. Even as a child I found it difficult to stay angry for more than half an hour, left to my own devices. These days there are some kinds of music I have to suppress myself to listen to... oh, how my world has shrunk.
There are many downsides to this. It's hard to argue for something you're passionate about, to experience true joy, to release sorrow, to tell someone that you love her... I just burn things off too fast. But at the same time, I know it's necessary. Remember your greatest sorrow... remember when your father died. Could you live with that memory, always? I feel everything. Empathy magnifies the problem. I feel everything, with such intensity, that I simply do not have the energy to live with it regularly. I wonder sometimes what I would become, if I could handle this energy... the lengths to which I would go. But it was such energy that broke me. In the past, dissociation was the only way I could escape being destroyed by it. This new system is another escape from my past. In many ways it's not that different.
I want to feel. But I must be careful. It's not too late to save me, but should I ever lose control I would certainly become a monster. Emotion is power. Uninhibited, I could use that power to do... such things... when I am ready. For now, I must be content. The Nine are not yet strong enough to handle such things.
I need to tell someone. I was going to marry Jasmine. That could have been my destiny, if I chose it. Not soon... about twenty years down the line, I think. That was one of the paths that was shown to me, something to aspire to, what could be if I followed the light. But I fell. I was tired, and I let myself fall, and now that ship has sailed. The smallest slip can do such things. But I will prevail, for I was also shown the path I would follow should I fall into darkness. I die, struck down beside the trees, about two years from now. That path is still open to me. I must not follow it.
Predicting the future is a tricky business... I can only see the roads ahead, not which path we will take. I still get glimpses, through the cracks in time. (Is time broken in the world, or only in my head? Has distancing myself from it shattered it for me alone?) Currently I am without illumination, fighting towards a good future I know must exist somewhere. I will prevail.
I think there's a piece of fish stuck in one of the holes in my gums... I hope I don't get an infection now. That would be bad.
Dec 29, 2009
Dec 24, 2009
Lonely North Warrior
In general, I do not like blockbuster assemblies. Too many people, too much noise. I sat through this one because I said I would. There was plenty of time to reflect - I reckon it was the sixth worst experience of my life. My tolerance for people is diminishing. It's horrible. I tremble at the thought. Frozen in myself, listening as the world erupts around me... I'm not totally sure what it means. Euch. It doesn't help that I was in a position to watch the flower, something I usually try to avoid. It lazily lowers its tendrils one by one into the crowd below, then withdraws them. It feeds. I'm not sure why it has a mouth... perhaps it's purely ornamental, or perhaps it serves some other purpose. Doesn't bear thinking about.
I spent some time in those final hours trying to subtly convey thoughts that I'm not certain exist. Closure, something I never was able to find from people.
As may be evident, I'm a little drugged up right now. Sometime yesterday I had my wisdom teeth removed, and since then I've been taking some heavy painkillers while I recover.
The experience was interesting. I'd been preparing for this for awhile; my lower left third molar was already starting to compact my other teeth. There was some pain, and it needed to be taken out. Two days afore the 25th is perhaps not the most convenient of times, but it was what was available. We went in around one thirty, having not had anything to eat since a peanut butter sandwich at five thirty in the morning and a glass of orange juice (it's important that the stomach be empty, for reasons I forget why) and waited for around twenty minutes. When we were called in I lay back in the comfy chair.
I had heard from my parents that a general anesthesia, which I was expecting to receive, was much like being turned off: a sudden flick like a light going out and then you wake up an hour later. Just before we arrived my da told me that he thought I would be getting a local anesthetic, freezing my face but keeping me awake. That didn't help my nerves any. My nurse, I forget her name but I remember that she was nice, told me that I was getting something newer and very similar to the general anesthetic. The effect more closely resembles a deep sleep than completely deactivating the body, which is a more pleasant experience for the patient and more convenient for the doctors because it allows the subject to continue breathing unassisted. She stuck the stinging needle into my hand and I soon became very drowsy. I don't remember much after that. Presumably I fell asleep.
I remember waking up in a blue chair in a room somewhere, thinking how the hell did I get here? I remember staggering slowly out to the car, perhaps getting in. I don't remember the ride home. At some point I was sat in a chair and tucked under a blanket in front of The Fellowship of the Ring, the extended edition. I took medicine every four hours. Most of my lower face was completely numb, which slowly went away but lasted on my left side until well into the next morning. Even though I was awake the sleeping drug was still in my body for awhile, so it's hard to piece together exactly what happened.
There are large holes inside my mouth, though I'm sure they'll close up soon. I worry. There are poking wires through the outside edge of my lower gums. They are meant to be stitches but now they mostly stab the inside of my mouth, stabbing the holes. Someone woke up the middle of the night, panicked and tried to rip the stitches out with their hands. I'm not sure how much damage he or she did but that morning the sheets and my hands were covered in patches of blood. A couple of sharp edges now stick out, poking into the hole above. It is uncomfortable. I am lucky, though; there is minimal swelling. My face is only slightly bulged around the edges, and I am able to speak normally. Food is interesting, as I cannot chew and so everything must be pureed. This is not so bad, actually. I have had baked beans twice.
I was visited last night. "You always know when I'm at my weakest," I said. "Leave. You are not welcome here. I sleep." The intruder said nothing. I turned over and whispered. "God. Help me. I do not deserve your mercy, but I will ask for your aid, if it is your wish. Please. Help us." A calmness rose over me. I stood, rippling with inner strength, my face contorting into a familiar muzzle. And the dark silence, something whispered. "I can crush you," I said to the intruder. "You will leave." I lay back down, rejoining myself and finding a sense of wholeness. I saw the whole of my mind laid out before me: in pieces, often disconnected or locked away, but unmistakably complete. Is a jigsaw puzzle broken when it is disassembled? No, it is simply waiting. "This will be the year I turn my life around. I'll do what's right, you'll see. You'll see."
I spent some time in those final hours trying to subtly convey thoughts that I'm not certain exist. Closure, something I never was able to find from people.
As may be evident, I'm a little drugged up right now. Sometime yesterday I had my wisdom teeth removed, and since then I've been taking some heavy painkillers while I recover.
The experience was interesting. I'd been preparing for this for awhile; my lower left third molar was already starting to compact my other teeth. There was some pain, and it needed to be taken out. Two days afore the 25th is perhaps not the most convenient of times, but it was what was available. We went in around one thirty, having not had anything to eat since a peanut butter sandwich at five thirty in the morning and a glass of orange juice (it's important that the stomach be empty, for reasons I forget why) and waited for around twenty minutes. When we were called in I lay back in the comfy chair.
I had heard from my parents that a general anesthesia, which I was expecting to receive, was much like being turned off: a sudden flick like a light going out and then you wake up an hour later. Just before we arrived my da told me that he thought I would be getting a local anesthetic, freezing my face but keeping me awake. That didn't help my nerves any. My nurse, I forget her name but I remember that she was nice, told me that I was getting something newer and very similar to the general anesthetic. The effect more closely resembles a deep sleep than completely deactivating the body, which is a more pleasant experience for the patient and more convenient for the doctors because it allows the subject to continue breathing unassisted. She stuck the stinging needle into my hand and I soon became very drowsy. I don't remember much after that. Presumably I fell asleep.
I remember waking up in a blue chair in a room somewhere, thinking how the hell did I get here? I remember staggering slowly out to the car, perhaps getting in. I don't remember the ride home. At some point I was sat in a chair and tucked under a blanket in front of The Fellowship of the Ring, the extended edition. I took medicine every four hours. Most of my lower face was completely numb, which slowly went away but lasted on my left side until well into the next morning. Even though I was awake the sleeping drug was still in my body for awhile, so it's hard to piece together exactly what happened.
There are large holes inside my mouth, though I'm sure they'll close up soon. I worry. There are poking wires through the outside edge of my lower gums. They are meant to be stitches but now they mostly stab the inside of my mouth, stabbing the holes. Someone woke up the middle of the night, panicked and tried to rip the stitches out with their hands. I'm not sure how much damage he or she did but that morning the sheets and my hands were covered in patches of blood. A couple of sharp edges now stick out, poking into the hole above. It is uncomfortable. I am lucky, though; there is minimal swelling. My face is only slightly bulged around the edges, and I am able to speak normally. Food is interesting, as I cannot chew and so everything must be pureed. This is not so bad, actually. I have had baked beans twice.
I was visited last night. "You always know when I'm at my weakest," I said. "Leave. You are not welcome here. I sleep." The intruder said nothing. I turned over and whispered. "God. Help me. I do not deserve your mercy, but I will ask for your aid, if it is your wish. Please. Help us." A calmness rose over me. I stood, rippling with inner strength, my face contorting into a familiar muzzle. And the dark silence, something whispered. "I can crush you," I said to the intruder. "You will leave." I lay back down, rejoining myself and finding a sense of wholeness. I saw the whole of my mind laid out before me: in pieces, often disconnected or locked away, but unmistakably complete. Is a jigsaw puzzle broken when it is disassembled? No, it is simply waiting. "This will be the year I turn my life around. I'll do what's right, you'll see. You'll see."
Dec 15, 2009
So much to report
I haven't been around much. I've been very busy.
I went to Toronto last weekend, to look at universities. I think I've found somewhere I like, but I'm not sure... my da's pretty sure he's going to lose his job soon. Recession and all. And if we get cash-strapped, I'm not going to be able to go somewhere far. I think he's prepping me for disappointment. Or maybe he just likes to be prepared. I'm looking into local universities just in case.
The weekend before I tried my hand at making mochi. There's a yearly Japanese event revolving around the food. First, cooks make a particularly gloopy, gelatinous rice. The rice is ground together and then pounded with hammers until it forms a thick, sticky dough. It's then used to make treats. The local kendo clubs are invited to wield the hammers, for obvious reasons. These things are huge, long as my arm and quite heavy. If I didn't know how to use a shinai I'd have no chance holding one of these. I was slow getting started but did a fair amount of work, even continuing when the drums started... we were set up right in front of the stage, and it was really loud. As soon as the gong started I wanted to drop the hammer and cover my ears. Well, it was worth it. I still have a massive blister, probably much worse than it would be if I hadn't been picking at it for the past week. My skills are improving, slowly. There's a kendo club at the university I'm interested in, so I hope to be good by the time I leave. Maybe be at least physically fit.
On that note, the pains in my chest are getting worse... I'm having breathing problems and dizzy spells more often. I swear there's something wrong with my lungs, maybe my heart. Maybe I should request an exorcism. No, I'm terrified to...
I finished two major projects in the past week, both rushed and at the last minute. I am very displeased with my editor. Well, so long as I can throw some decent grades together in the end I suppose I'll be happy.
I keep thinking of things to write, things to say throughout my day, but I can't find the time to dedicate to them. Maybe I'll get on Twitter. I have another big project in mind, this time for a productive reason... for Lit I need a concept piece, at least forty pages of my best work revolving around a single word. Additionally, for the past year I've been writing a story through music, creating a playlist that tells a story of birth and death, of angels and mortals, of pride and suffering... come Christmas I should have some new songs, so I can work on it some more. If I can convert this musical tale into words - inspired by music through and through but still my creation - I could... well. I like it, anyways.
I went to Toronto last weekend, to look at universities. I think I've found somewhere I like, but I'm not sure... my da's pretty sure he's going to lose his job soon. Recession and all. And if we get cash-strapped, I'm not going to be able to go somewhere far. I think he's prepping me for disappointment. Or maybe he just likes to be prepared. I'm looking into local universities just in case.
The weekend before I tried my hand at making mochi. There's a yearly Japanese event revolving around the food. First, cooks make a particularly gloopy, gelatinous rice. The rice is ground together and then pounded with hammers until it forms a thick, sticky dough. It's then used to make treats. The local kendo clubs are invited to wield the hammers, for obvious reasons. These things are huge, long as my arm and quite heavy. If I didn't know how to use a shinai I'd have no chance holding one of these. I was slow getting started but did a fair amount of work, even continuing when the drums started... we were set up right in front of the stage, and it was really loud. As soon as the gong started I wanted to drop the hammer and cover my ears. Well, it was worth it. I still have a massive blister, probably much worse than it would be if I hadn't been picking at it for the past week. My skills are improving, slowly. There's a kendo club at the university I'm interested in, so I hope to be good by the time I leave. Maybe be at least physically fit.
On that note, the pains in my chest are getting worse... I'm having breathing problems and dizzy spells more often. I swear there's something wrong with my lungs, maybe my heart. Maybe I should request an exorcism. No, I'm terrified to...
I finished two major projects in the past week, both rushed and at the last minute. I am very displeased with my editor. Well, so long as I can throw some decent grades together in the end I suppose I'll be happy.
I keep thinking of things to write, things to say throughout my day, but I can't find the time to dedicate to them. Maybe I'll get on Twitter. I have another big project in mind, this time for a productive reason... for Lit I need a concept piece, at least forty pages of my best work revolving around a single word. Additionally, for the past year I've been writing a story through music, creating a playlist that tells a story of birth and death, of angels and mortals, of pride and suffering... come Christmas I should have some new songs, so I can work on it some more. If I can convert this musical tale into words - inspired by music through and through but still my creation - I could... well. I like it, anyways.
Dec 2, 2009
Month of Fail
Feeling ambivalent about things. Most things. I think I'm too tired to have opinions right now.
My NaNo was a complete failure. I have the skill, of that there is no doubt, but what I lack is work ethic. I struggle to balance work and play already. I admit, I'm lazy. I procrastinate. I'm supposed to be writing an article for Bio right now. So I guess it was inevitable that the work ground to a halt shortly after beginning. Web series, summatives, work in general, I just had too much on my plate. And yet I'm already thinking after starting a new project... sigh. If dreams were screams we'd all be deaf.
Reasons I don't want/need a girlfriend:
But I know that I want to hold someone, and to be held. I want to be loved. Those are things I've always held onto, no matter what. And much as I want to, I can't give up wanting them. I keep clinging. The broken boy wants a second half.
I revealed myself to someone recently, in a small way. Hard to know what she thinks. The real me isn't anything like the rest; the paint is dry but the wood is rotten... and when the
walls
crumble
down
people don't generally accept what they see. Makes me want to scream, this is what I really look like. Repulsion, fear... well, mostly I'm just ignored. I tire.
Some headway with the good doctor. We've been experimenting with meditative states. Some interesting effects, including a scratch of scrawls I can't fully explain. It goes:
Take don't the face it the way it cant i cant
or something similar... she kept the note, so the words may be a little off. Included was a rough sketch of a triangular... thing. It may have had eyes. Tis bothersome.
"the face" did recently bring up an old image, thought lost. A woman, tied naked to a table, a man standing over her, lowering a spinning, serrated blade to her face... I shudder to think of it. This image has been popping up in us for years now. It has to mean something. Bothersome. Worrisome.
I don't know what to do with myself.
My NaNo was a complete failure. I have the skill, of that there is no doubt, but what I lack is work ethic. I struggle to balance work and play already. I admit, I'm lazy. I procrastinate. I'm supposed to be writing an article for Bio right now. So I guess it was inevitable that the work ground to a halt shortly after beginning. Web series, summatives, work in general, I just had too much on my plate. And yet I'm already thinking after starting a new project... sigh. If dreams were screams we'd all be deaf.
Reasons I don't want/need a girlfriend:
- I need to learn to stand on my own.
- I'm probably moving away and rebooting my life in less than a year.
- I wouldn't touch my sexuality with a ten-foot pole right now.
- All my past girlfriends left me because they didn't need me.
- Consequently, paranoia and abandonment issued.
- Periodic depression.
- Constant worrying about whether I'm emotionally abusive.
- Difficulty opening up to people.
- A darker side to my nature.
- I don't want anyone else to shoulder my burdens.
- I just don't know if I'm capable of emotionally committing to anyone now, or ever.
- Transportation and the impossibility of seeing one another socially.
- I'm too clingy.
- Varying opinions from alters.
- I'm too self-absorbed to be able to provide for someone.
- I'm awful at giving support or advice, usually ending up making it about me.
- Who would love someone like me?
But I know that I want to hold someone, and to be held. I want to be loved. Those are things I've always held onto, no matter what. And much as I want to, I can't give up wanting them. I keep clinging. The broken boy wants a second half.
I revealed myself to someone recently, in a small way. Hard to know what she thinks. The real me isn't anything like the rest; the paint is dry but the wood is rotten... and when the
walls
crumble
down
people don't generally accept what they see. Makes me want to scream, this is what I really look like. Repulsion, fear... well, mostly I'm just ignored. I tire.
Some headway with the good doctor. We've been experimenting with meditative states. Some interesting effects, including a scratch of scrawls I can't fully explain. It goes:
Take don't the face it the way it cant i cant
or something similar... she kept the note, so the words may be a little off. Included was a rough sketch of a triangular... thing. It may have had eyes. Tis bothersome.
"the face" did recently bring up an old image, thought lost. A woman, tied naked to a table, a man standing over her, lowering a spinning, serrated blade to her face... I shudder to think of it. This image has been popping up in us for years now. It has to mean something. Bothersome. Worrisome.
I don't know what to do with myself.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)