Insomnia and broken glass

I could get rid of the monster in my stomach if I wanted to.
My body rejects it. It gnaws on my hearts, alternating sides occasionally, feeding off of me and watching me. Sometimes I try to choke it up. It feels like vomiting. I can feel its legs sliding against my throat. But always it comes back down. One time it reached my mouth, forcing my teeth open, three black legs momentarily dangling. I tried to grab them and rip it from my face but when I reached up I felt a stabbing pain in my hand and pulled back. It crawled back down inside me. Now there's a tiny black mark on my palm where it stabbed me, smaller than a freckle... nothing that couldn't have been there before.
And then, last night.
At my youth group. There was singing. I hung back as usual, even though the noise wasn't hurting my head so much as it normally did. Why? It occurred to me that I was trying to block it out, like I block out everything else. For a minute, I allowed myself to relax. Let emotions fill me. For a few seconds, I allowed myself to feel God's love.
Then the contractions started. The decapede twisted and writhed inside me, punching the walls of my stomach. I felt sick, as before. Instinctively I tightened up. The Dream Jar closed. Everything I had felt faded. It stopped. I leaned against the wall and breathed hard. This seemed to be working, despite everything. I knew that God could heal me; He had killed a mindworm once, with no difficulty. I tried to open up again. It was difficult, everything having clumped together into a tight ball, but with some force I was able to let go. I think I even relaxed my shoulders. I never relax my shoulders. For the first time in too long, I opened myself up to God.
Within seconds it started again. The little demon twisted in me, losing its grasp, being forced up my throat. I clutched my chest and keeled over, darting behind a wall to hide myself. Spasms shook me. Black slime dripped out of my mouth and fell in large, viscous drops to the floor below. It tasted bitter and cold. Then the beast itself came forth, forcing my mouth open wide as it slithered out. To my surprise it wasn't fat and round like I'd pictured it, but long and thin like a worm. Perhaps it had simply coiled itself up inside of me. Its prickly black fur tickled my lips. As it fell from my mouth it broke apart and dropped to the ground in tiny, twitching segments. More slime gushed forth. I felt a strange emptiness.
Just then the music stopped, and there was a call for people to return to their seats. Without thinking I straightened up and closed my mouth. There was a sickening crunch as I bit one of the monster's segments in half, part falling to the ground, the rest slipping back down my throat. It stayed in me as I walked back and did not stir for the rest of the night.
What gave me the will to eject this demon from me was the knowledge that I wouldn't have to be afraid any more. But I am afraid. Afraid of what people will think of me. Trying to appear normal (if eccentric), trying not to be caught doing anything out of the ordinary, that's what stopped me from following through. And because of that the beast survived. It lives in me, hurt but growing, and I can't seem to find the strength to finish the job.
Believing that something is living inside of you is a symptom of schizophrenia. I've made a point of not talking about it.
Why am I so afraid of God? Why do I hate Him so much? For the same reason I hate many things. They touch my heart, and my heart is tired of being touched. I'm afraid to feel anything that I can't control. Until I can conquer that, I will always be alone.

I got a haircut the other day. Something short for a change. It's strange, not to have so much on my head any more. I shake my head and don't feel anything swinging. It's disconcerting. People tell me it looks good. Part of me says I look like a lesbian, minus the beard. I guess I still have difficulty thinking of myself as male. Yet another thing we can never agree on.
On another note, the place I go to get my hair cut had a new assistant, sweeping up etc. She washed my hair at the start and when she touched me, she pierced right through my defenses and I actually felt her. There's not many people who can do that. I'll probably never see her again, but whoever she is I wish her well.

guiltguiltguilt

There's something evil in my head.
We think it's a memory. It's hard to say. Couldn't really be anything else. Whatever it is, it's something so dark, so destructive, that even I cannot bear to look at it. Given the terrible thoughts that pass through my head on a fairly regular basis, that's saying something.
Perhaps it's an evil act that I witnessed... a woman, a table, a spinning blade...
Or perhaps it's something that was done to me... body memories, paranoia, fear of being touched...
Or something... something I did... in my hands, on the floor, don't want to...
And someday I will track it down. I will face it. And I will kill it.

I have my regrets

I've had a lot of things on my mind.

It's exam time soon. I have english on friday and bio on wednesday... or is it thursday? Not sure. Work is drawing to a close. It's been difficult to focus on anything lately. This strange tiredness doesn't help. It comes on me seemingly without pattern, causing all the energy to be drained out of me at once, lasting several seconds to several minutes. I really don't know what to make of it.

I've been put forth for study in a sleep lab at some point. The good doctor noticed that in all the time she's known me she's never once seen me well-rested. It will be a couple of months at the very least before I can get an appointment, the system being what it is, but I'm looking forward to seeing what they will find.

I spend a lot of nights lying awake and thinking about what could have been. I guess this shows I have a lot of regrets.
(She was right next to me. I could have kissed her. Put my arm around her and locked lips before she knew what was happening. I could have. It would have been her first kiss, probably. Is that what I wanted?)

Ever since I read about cognitive dissonance, I've been catching it cropping up in my thinking. For instance: I want to go out places with people and have a social life. However, people don't generally invite me places. I solve this dissonance by telling myself that I would probably be unable to go anyway, or that I wouldn't enjoy myself if I did. But having examined this, I realize I'm actually kind of hurt that no one thinks to ask me. Maybe in future I should make an effort to be more social towards people. (No one's going to invite me to a party at the end of the year, though. I don't need eyes to see that.)

On that note, here's an experimental script.

DP: Are you familiar with the concept of cognitive dissonance, Amanda?

A: No.

DP: It means holding two conflicting view simultaneously.

A: Is that bad?

DP: In some cases, yes. The mind isn’t very good at doing this. The dissonance has to be resolved somehow. A person may make assumptions or tell themselves untruths about the world so that they can believe two opposing things and still have the world make sense.

A: I don’t understand.

DP: Let me give you an example. Once there was a snake who was hungry for eggs. He found the nest of a wren and tried to eat the eggs he found there. But the mother wren, seeing that her children were in danger, squawked and fluttered and made itself so frightening that the snake would not draw near. The snake told himself that a bird so stupid as to try to fight him, a snake, must be incapable of looking after her eggs, whish must be rotten. Then he went on his way and did not bother the wren again.

A: The snake was wrong.

DP: Why do you say that?

A: Attacking the snake to defend her eggs wasn’t a stupid thing to do. It was brave and noble. Any mother would have done the same.

DP: Even a snake mother?

A: No, I guess not. Maybe the snake didn’t understand the bravery of the wren. But that doesn’t mean the eggs should be rotten.

DP: Exactly. The snake believed two things: that he wanted eggs, but also that he could not have the eggs. This caused dissonance in his mind. When he convinced himself that the eggs were not worth having, one of the beliefs was made lesser than the other and the dissonance was solved.

A: Interesting. But that’s not all the snake believed in.

DP: Oh?

A: The snake believed that he could have taken the eggs if he tried, but the wren scared him away. So he believed in three things: that he wanted eggs, that he could have the eggs, and that he could not have the eggs. He knew that one of these beliefs had to be false, so he told himself a lie so he could continue believing what he wanted. Even though he wasn’t brave enough to take the eggs, solving the dissonance in this way made him believe that he could.

DP: Very good. And what does this prove?

A: Is this about my father?

DP: I beg your pardon?

A: Do you think that I’m creating dissonance by trying to find my father?

DP: Well, let’s examine that. What do you believe about your father?

A: I know he’s gone away somewhere. I know he’s important. I know I have to find him.

DP: Do you know where he is?

A: No.

DP: Do you have any idea how you will go about finding him?

A: No.

DP: Yet you firmly believe that seeking this man out is the right thing to do.

A: I don’t believe. I know.

DP: Why?

A: I don’t know.

DP: Perhaps this is another kind of dissonance. Much like the snake believed so strongly in his own superiority, you cling to this belief to resolve the trouble in a way that you perceive as benefiting you.

A: Or maybe the dissonance is unresolved.

DP: In the short term, perhaps, but in the long run it can’t be done. A person cannot hold two conflicting view indefinitely.

A: I can.

DP: No, you can’t.

A: Why do you tell yourself that?

Heart Failure on Still Waters

My world is becoming smaller.
Headaches, more frequent. Chest pains, growing. My repulsion at the thought of touching people is returning. I am entering a moderately bad time of my life; not very bad, just a little unpleasant. Hopefully I'll be out of it soon. I think I'm getting a flu.

For a new Lit project I'm attempting to write a traditional Japanese kaidan. Kaidan means ghost story, or, taken literally, talk about strange things. I'm taking elements from several of the most famous stories and compiling them into something new. Maybe I'll be able to present it in the old oral tradition. We'll see.

I've been planning to update more, but my internets have been on the fritz. Limited or no connection, it says, mysteriously. As such it only works intermittently, for short periods of time. I'm kind of afraid to spend too long on it now. Sigh. Maybe later.

Small and

Many of my memories aren't visual. A lot, especially involving people, revolve around my sense of touch. I remember pressure against my chest, skin beneath my hands, hair against my face. In this case, shoulder blades, as I realize just how thin she is.
I don't love her.

Project Calibrate Begins

New year. I'm not making note of it. It's an arbitrary designation. Dates and times have been becoming less important to me.

I had an epiphany recently. I have spent most of my life waiting to die. I've kept telling myself to hold on just a little longer, just a little further, anticipating rest around every corner.
But what if that's not the case? What if I have years and years left to live? Suddenly the world seems much more important to me.

I keep careful track of my subconscious. I have to. I need to understand my unspoken, unreasonable habits.
Deep down, I believe that I will not be given anything unless I do not ask for it. I believe that people do not want to be touched. I believe that sex is a kind of death.
Deep down, I am so full of hate.

Night on the Forest Road

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.

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."

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.

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:

1. I need to learn to stand on my own.
2. I'm probably moving away and rebooting my life in less than a year.
3. I wouldn't touch my sexuality with a ten-foot pole right now.
4. All my past girlfriends left me because they didn't need me.
5. Consequently, paranoia and abandonment issued.
6. Periodic depression.
7. Constant worrying about whether I'm emotionally abusive.
8. Difficulty opening up to people.
9. A darker side to my nature.
10. I don't want anyone else to shoulder my burdens.
11. I just don't know if I'm capable of emotionally committing to anyone now, or ever.
12. Transportation and the impossibility of seeing one another socially.
13. I'm too clingy.
14. Varying opinions from alters.
15. I'm too self-absorbed to be able to provide for someone.
16. I'm awful at giving support or advice, usually ending up making it about me.
    
17. Who would love someone like me?

There's a girl, you see. And I'm sick of it. I don't want to keep coming back to this... I don't even know what I want any more. I'm tired.
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.