it's okay to be angry and never let go//it only gets harder the more that you know
i've never been so thankful to be on a break before. even the kids were starting to look at me funny. at least now i don't have to pretend that every thing is peachy, sunnyperfectdon'tletthemknowsmileyou'refine. keep it in even when you feel like your face is burning off. i had enough practise at that, once.
it's been a long time since i blogged this frequently. i guess i never felt like i needed to hide so much these past years. i know that i'm slipping back to a bad place but the last thing i want to do is lay it out for everyone else again. they shouldn't be dragged down just because i can't get it together.
Showing posts with label help me (save me). Show all posts
Showing posts with label help me (save me). Show all posts
Monday, 3 July 2017
Tuesday, 25 April 2017
Monday, 30 March 2015
when i fall down it's just me and the ground
No matter how much I try to stay away, only coming back in fits and starts, things aren't actually that much easier to deal with. Things are very much one step forward, two steps back. Some days I think that I'm better. More often, perhaps, I tell myself that I am because I want, so desperately, to be. I don't even know, really, what happened that was so bad, how things got so bad, that I'm here now. (This is a lie; I know. I wish the encounter had been less hostile, but I shouldn't have been surprised. It always was my fault, anyway.)
I spend a lot of time swinging between feeling angry, and apathetic, and incredibly sad, and pretending that things are going to be all right. So. Yeah. I'm spending a lot of time kind of flailing around in the dark, trying to figure out what the fuck is actually going on.
I wish I had been strong enough back then to really tell somebody in my direct, personal life about what happened during those long months. Speaking to L helped a lot, but what good was that when I could never have more than the words on the page, could never feel her arms around me in an embrace of solidarity, reassurance that I could move on one day. (And I have, mostly.) But then again, even if I had the chance to change something, I would still make the choice not to tell. Nobody else deserves to have to shoulder this alongside me; I would rather keep them safe in their belief that these sorts of things don't happen to their friends. In the end, it was only ever on me to make my decisions. And I made all the wrong ones.
K and M, I know, suspect; G, I think, knows and blames herself. I have never heard her mention C again, and a part of me regrets that - they were close before. I want to tell her that it's not her fault, that she could no more predict what happened than I could, but how can I now? When so much time has passed and we have never spoken of it. The more time passes, the less often we speak, and the easier it is to just keep silent.
There are days when I want to cling to someone and cry. There are more days when I keep it all together in front of everyone and not let on that life can still hurt you, even after you go through so much shit. It's interesting how people rarely pick up on the false cheer, or the way it feels like my mouth is going to melt off my face, or the way that I've apparently perfected not letting on that I am constantly braced for--something. It's easy to see only what we want to see; easier still when you have no notion of how closely the darkness can hang over others. For all the empathy and sympathy we have, most of the time words are still only words until they hit someone close to you.
Even though I cry over sad things, it's the things that give me hope that make me cry the hardest. I'm making time these days to go back and sit down with A again. I need it. Apart from L, she is the only one who knows the truth about the secrets of that time. She told me recently that one day, no matter what, I would be happy again, that we would, we all would, and every day would have smiles and laughter. It's hard to remember that, most of all, but I try to believe it.
I spend a lot of time swinging between feeling angry, and apathetic, and incredibly sad, and pretending that things are going to be all right. So. Yeah. I'm spending a lot of time kind of flailing around in the dark, trying to figure out what the fuck is actually going on.
I wish I had been strong enough back then to really tell somebody in my direct, personal life about what happened during those long months. Speaking to L helped a lot, but what good was that when I could never have more than the words on the page, could never feel her arms around me in an embrace of solidarity, reassurance that I could move on one day. (And I have, mostly.) But then again, even if I had the chance to change something, I would still make the choice not to tell. Nobody else deserves to have to shoulder this alongside me; I would rather keep them safe in their belief that these sorts of things don't happen to their friends. In the end, it was only ever on me to make my decisions. And I made all the wrong ones.
K and M, I know, suspect; G, I think, knows and blames herself. I have never heard her mention C again, and a part of me regrets that - they were close before. I want to tell her that it's not her fault, that she could no more predict what happened than I could, but how can I now? When so much time has passed and we have never spoken of it. The more time passes, the less often we speak, and the easier it is to just keep silent.
There are days when I want to cling to someone and cry. There are more days when I keep it all together in front of everyone and not let on that life can still hurt you, even after you go through so much shit. It's interesting how people rarely pick up on the false cheer, or the way it feels like my mouth is going to melt off my face, or the way that I've apparently perfected not letting on that I am constantly braced for--something. It's easy to see only what we want to see; easier still when you have no notion of how closely the darkness can hang over others. For all the empathy and sympathy we have, most of the time words are still only words until they hit someone close to you.
Even though I cry over sad things, it's the things that give me hope that make me cry the hardest. I'm making time these days to go back and sit down with A again. I need it. Apart from L, she is the only one who knows the truth about the secrets of that time. She told me recently that one day, no matter what, I would be happy again, that we would, we all would, and every day would have smiles and laughter. It's hard to remember that, most of all, but I try to believe it.
Monday, 6 October 2014
losing sleep for days, is this just a phase?
You feel guilty a lot. You're not anywhere near the best friend, even when you do happen to be at your best. You think that you can't blame others for sliding you back down the scale to 'friend', 'acquaintance', for being irate with you. You're sorry for it, for withdrawing; though what does that matter when you don't--won't say it to their face. You want to be better, but--
You don't like to talk. You like to think about what you're going to say before you say it (which doesn't always necessarily work out, but you like to Try) because you want to be able to say what you mean, and because there's Too Much inside your head. It's hard to keep track of all the things you need to do and to say without letting anything else irrelevant spill out. You can't risk it. You need to keep yourself to yourself, because your mind is Too Much, Too Big, for an outlet that is as small as your mouth, as the words you let scrawl across the page. You can't let anyone else know what horribly beautiful (or is it beautifully horrible?) things are locked inside your mind.
There's something that shouldn't be messed with, and that thing is your mind. Really, you don't want to be crazy. You've heard it before - you're a little different (or what others call 'special' when they don't want to hurt your feelings by saying what they really mean). You're a little bit risky, a little bit scary, a lot not enough. You've always wished you could be brave enough to be what you admire in others.
You're an introvert, you know. Perhaps you're just simply not built for interaction. People like you don't function with society.
You don't like to talk. You like to think about what you're going to say before you say it (which doesn't always necessarily work out, but you like to Try) because you want to be able to say what you mean, and because there's Too Much inside your head. It's hard to keep track of all the things you need to do and to say without letting anything else irrelevant spill out. You can't risk it. You need to keep yourself to yourself, because your mind is Too Much, Too Big, for an outlet that is as small as your mouth, as the words you let scrawl across the page. You can't let anyone else know what horribly beautiful (or is it beautifully horrible?) things are locked inside your mind.
There's something that shouldn't be messed with, and that thing is your mind. Really, you don't want to be crazy. You've heard it before - you're a little different (or what others call 'special' when they don't want to hurt your feelings by saying what they really mean). You're a little bit risky, a little bit scary, a lot not enough. You've always wished you could be brave enough to be what you admire in others.
You're an introvert, you know. Perhaps you're just simply not built for interaction. People like you don't function with society.
Tuesday, 22 April 2014
cos i'm dreaming that i'm sinking again
it ain't easy you know, to leave the darkness behind
I feel sick every time I start working towards what's coming. There are too many things I still don't know, and not enough time to even begin to start learning. I shouldn't be so afraid, not when I knew this was what I was signing up for. But I am, and I was equally-but-probably-more terrified by it back then. I guess I thought that in the time leading up to it, I would learn to be okay. I'm not really sure why I thought that, not when even in the months leading up to that decision I was still bursting into tears in front of my class at having to stand up there. I've never been confident in any ability.
Even just thinking about what I need to do makes my stomach constrict, makes me feel lightheaded, nausea creeping up in my throat and tears clouding my vision.
At this point, it's basically just the fear of stopping that's keeping me going. There are ways to deal with just about anything. It's easier to not allow yourself to think beyond the next day, the next hour, the next minute, if that's what it takes. (It does.) Things will be okay. (But it's always hardest to believe.)
Something else is that I'm tired. Tired of never having enough time for anything. For myself, for doing the things that I want or need to do, for seeing and spending time with the people that I want to see. I know that part of it is because this semester is structured so oddly, and I know that things will get better eventually, but it doesn't change how I feel. And I know that in these weeks to come, I'm just going to be more and more tired. Truth be told, I don't know if I'll be able to make it through without breaking down. I don't know if I can go for so long without a reprieve, without-- I'm a touch-dominant person, you know? And no matter what you can say to me, or how much I can tell myself that I believe it, believe you, these words are empty without the tangibility of you by my side. I need to be able to parcel away time where I can see you, take the time to remember who I am.
I wish that I didn't feel like I'm falling apart in the first place. But I also wish that people wouldn't just believe me when I say I'm fine. This isn't to say that I want people doubting me all the time, or to think that I'm incapable of handling my own life, but when I think you know that I'm not going alright or that I'm lying to you and you don't make an effort, it hurts. More than it originally does. But nor do I want to be the type of person who is always falling on others; sometimes, it's felt as though they're secretly thinking, judging, wishing that I would just get over it (get over myself).
I've never wanted to be needy, I've always wanted to be better than that, to be the type who is needed. But the fact remains that I am and I always have been not needed but needy. I'm sorry.
I feel sick every time I start working towards what's coming. There are too many things I still don't know, and not enough time to even begin to start learning. I shouldn't be so afraid, not when I knew this was what I was signing up for. But I am, and I was equally-but-probably-more terrified by it back then. I guess I thought that in the time leading up to it, I would learn to be okay. I'm not really sure why I thought that, not when even in the months leading up to that decision I was still bursting into tears in front of my class at having to stand up there. I've never been confident in any ability.
Even just thinking about what I need to do makes my stomach constrict, makes me feel lightheaded, nausea creeping up in my throat and tears clouding my vision.
At this point, it's basically just the fear of stopping that's keeping me going. There are ways to deal with just about anything. It's easier to not allow yourself to think beyond the next day, the next hour, the next minute, if that's what it takes. (It does.) Things will be okay. (But it's always hardest to believe.)
Something else is that I'm tired. Tired of never having enough time for anything. For myself, for doing the things that I want or need to do, for seeing and spending time with the people that I want to see. I know that part of it is because this semester is structured so oddly, and I know that things will get better eventually, but it doesn't change how I feel. And I know that in these weeks to come, I'm just going to be more and more tired. Truth be told, I don't know if I'll be able to make it through without breaking down. I don't know if I can go for so long without a reprieve, without-- I'm a touch-dominant person, you know? And no matter what you can say to me, or how much I can tell myself that I believe it, believe you, these words are empty without the tangibility of you by my side. I need to be able to parcel away time where I can see you, take the time to remember who I am.
I wish that I didn't feel like I'm falling apart in the first place. But I also wish that people wouldn't just believe me when I say I'm fine. This isn't to say that I want people doubting me all the time, or to think that I'm incapable of handling my own life, but when I think you know that I'm not going alright or that I'm lying to you and you don't make an effort, it hurts. More than it originally does. But nor do I want to be the type of person who is always falling on others; sometimes, it's felt as though they're secretly thinking, judging, wishing that I would just get over it (get over myself).
I've never wanted to be needy, I've always wanted to be better than that, to be the type who is needed. But the fact remains that I am and I always have been not needed but needy. I'm sorry.
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