if you ask, that’s what I’ll say. it’s not your business anyway…
so i’m having some problems with my blog over at bookish.nu/gossamer… i messed something or other up, so i’m hosting my posts over here until i figure it out.
i’m pretty sick, and it’s admittedly a little scary… and very lonely… being by myself all weekend when i’m feeling like this, especially since my cell phone has been slain; a piece broke off when i dropped it, and initially the problem was that i could only get text messages and not calls. now all that happens when i try to turn it on is that the keypad lights up.
i’m also proving my point at the moment that i don’t generally post before 3… or even 4 am.
i wish very much that i knew how to articulate what’s going on in my head right now. i’ve had some really amazing and… worthwhile, if a bit painful… conversations with incredible people (two in particular, which isn’t to say that there aren’t other incredible people, i’ve just been given the opportunity to talk to these people more than others thus far) this week which have led me to realize a great deal about myself.
it was articulated to me (and it’s entirely possible that the person who said this is reading this, in which case, know that i appreciate tremendously the fact that you were bold enough to point this out, it makes you an amazing friend) that it seems like, at least from the things that bother me and the point that i’ve sort of stumbled to in the past couple of years, that i’ve spent a long time basically erecting the scaffolding around what’s only amounted to a foundation thus far.
i got scared at a point when i was younger that if people saw who i really was and the things that had molded me and brought me there, that i would frighten them away. consequently, i abandoned the construction of walls and started building an elaborate facade instead, based on what i thought would make me acceptable in the public eye. for example… people in south carolina are very religious? well, i’d darn well better go to church and “believe”! pretend i’m happy all the time and nothing’s ever bothering me… why did i leave lehigh? well, the eating disorder certainly has no mention in this. there’s about 2 people here who know my parents are getting divorced. the only other student i’m aware of knowing that religion makes me INCREDIBLY uncomfortable right now is not a southerner or a church goer.
i’m pretty good at giving off the impression that i’m whatever i ought to be without actually directly lying about anything, alas… i lie by omission CONSTANTLY, however. “what’s the matter?”… “oh, nothing, i’ve just got a lot of work and having been getting much sleep.” both of which are true. neither of which are really what’s bothering me.
this whole structure has built up so much that i really have no idea what’s inside anymore myself. i have vague ideas of the things i like and the ideals in which i believe. i have no idea what i want to do with my life that isn’t some delusion of grandeur. i have no idea what makes me happy. i get brief spurts of actual genuine bliss every once in a great while, usually directly connected to one of about 6 people, never involving school as it exists for me right now.
i’ve gotten a lot of stuff off my chest this week and cleared up some confusion/hurt that messed up a really incredible relationship for a long time, and there’s still a few people i need to do this with, but i’m scared. it’s one thing to vaguely allude to stuff that’s bothering me in posts like this, or to hit on some kind of common knowledge stuff that’s upsetting me in rants like the one i posted january 16, but it’s another thing altogether to approach someone with an explanation for your behavior 2 1/2 years after the fact, or to tell someone you are not in fact okay with what’s going on in your personal life.
i don’t like to talk face to face about the hard stuff. i’m really bad at it. i don’t like to hurt, i don’t like other people to see me crying. i don’t like being vulnerable to other people in “real time.” i’m supposed to be strong; that’s what society teaches us, isn’t it? no one likes the weaklings, the jaded ones, those who you can see dragging their invisible baggage around every day.
the only soldier now is me;
i’m fighting things i cannot see.
i think it’s called my destiny
that i am changing.
i find i’m consistently in the habit of blogging after 3 a.m.
there are times when i’m uncertain
if the things i mask, i’m right to hide
if i tell you, can you face me?
there’s some things you’ve never held inside.
and i feel like you’re so happy;
i’m missing that “cheerful” gene.
it’s hard to always force a smile;
the laughter rarely hits my eyes.
but you don’t ever see that, do you?
if you’re not jaded, you don’t know
what it is to be missing
the part of you that needs to show;
the part that’s confident you’ll make it,
the part that’s confident there’s some plan,
that part of you you know can take it
if you lose it all again.
am i wrong to say i envy you?
your perfect happy life?
those “unfortunate” things are just bumps in the road,
not, for you, some twisting knife.
i don’t remember what it’s like
to just sit around and be,
without dwelling on the painful stuff
that makes me hurt,
but makes me me.
sometimes i can’t just hold it in;
it’s terrifying when the only people
who can understand the pain and sin
of your “past” life
are hundreds of miles away.
and home’s not your home,
just the place that you live,
and more than all that,
you know you would give
the world for the person who sees things the same,
who knows who you are, that there’s no one to blame
but yourself for the things you can’t
just push away,
but who takes all the things and the tons that they weigh
and reminds you that each night ends in day
and the nightmares and heartbreak that get in your way…
all that, you can just cast away.
there’s a place for we who don’t know it exists;
it may take us longer getter there than
those with clear sights,
but we know, all alone, on those deep, bitter nights,
that some day the abyss will come to a close,
and we’ll be there, we’ll be home;
just when this may come… who knows?
i know… there’s no real rhyme scheme and no flow. it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, i’m tired, i’m sad, i don’t feel well. forgive me.
The most bipolar, straight-forward post I’ve ever written…
i’m not going to try and reign in my language tonight, because it’s not real… i’d rather be authentic at this point than avoid stepping on people’s toes (sorry, parents!).
sometimes life sucks.
sometimes you pick the wrong major and the wrong school (twice!) and people are stupid and relationships are stupid and you make dumb decisions and your parents get separated and then divorced and you get really depressed and you close yourself off and nobody understands why you have the most intense mood swings they’ve ever come in contact with and grandparents get sick and you get sick and you keep getting hurt, both mentally and physically, worse every time, and it sucks. a lot. so much.
but things change. you get hurt and you ball up and sooner or later someone figures out all kinds of crap is happening and you’re falling apart and need help and they reach out. it’s not always the person you expect, either. take the hand… things work out eventually.
because when things finally accumulate to the point that you more or less implode, crash and burn harder than you ever thought you would (because EVERY crash is harder than the last)… things become a lot clearer. it’s suddenly obvious the things that are completely wrong with your life that you can do something about yourself and the things that you can’t do a damn thing about and that you just need to learn to look at from different perspectives until you find the one that doesn’t make you want to run away screaming.
i don’t like school, but there’s no point in being miserable about it for the rest of the semester. i’ve got some amazing friends here, i’ll spend the time with them wisely, try to get as much as i can from my classes, try to figure myself out a little better before i thrust myself into yet another new situation.
i don’t like that my parents are getting divorced, but it’s really none of my business and i want them to be happy, whatever that means… even if they’re not happy now, hopefully this will lead in the right direction. i’m scared of being a statistic, i won’t lie… my grandparents are divorced… my dad’s brother divorced his first wife… now my parents are getting divorced… that would significantly up my odds of having a marriage not work out.
but who knows if i’ll get married anyway? maybe i’m okay with not… wouldn’t it rock my crazy catholic grandmother’s world (in a very negative way) if i had a lover? ha… a non-catholic lover?
nah… don’t take that as “she’s a manhater.” i’m not. i just don’t really know what i want. well… i mean… i really want to get my BA and Master’s studying russian/slavic history, culture and language, and then run off to some small town (or big city, who knows) in some slavic/eastern european country and write. joanne harris-style. whom i adore with all my heart and soul. all that’s not very conducive to being married, however.
i don’t like being expected to be a certain way, by anyone. i mean… generally speaking, most of my parents’ assumptions about me are right, but not all, and nor are all of anybody else’s. hey! surprise! i question god! i’m not super-christian! fca scares me! i don’t consider what other people will think of my hair before i do anything to it! i don’t really care! the way i feel about all-girls schools now is not the way i felt about them in high school! opinions change! i’m a college student!
yep… i’m crazy… i break easily, both mentally and physically. i put up fronts when i’m hurt and when i’m scared. i don’t like letting people in, especially people i’m afraid will judge me when they find out who i actually am and what i actually think about things. i’m a perfectionist- it doesn’t make a bloody difference to me whether or not my parents care about my grades, i do. i also don’t work nearly as hard for them as i should, regardless of the fact that i often say i’m doing homework, i just lucked into smart genes. sometimes i feel antisocial. has nothing to do with you or how i feel about you, i just don’t want to do anything. with anybody. i hurt myself more than anyone else does. i rip myself to shreds constantly. but don’t let that statement fool you. sometimes i know i’m an amazing person. sometimes i know i’m beautiful. but sometimes i hate myself and who i am and the way people perceive me. i don’t like it when people try to understand ALL of me. it’s not possible. understand what’s natural for you to understand… and just listen to the rest, if you really care. i’m bizarre and messed up, i’m aware of that.
so i’ve probably scared everyone away now.
Each broken heart will eventually mend
i know it’s really annoying that i keep posting just lyrics instead of actually writing… but i don’t feel very well and they really capture most of what i’m thinking/feeling at the moment.
this is how it works: you’re young until you’re not;
you love until you don’t; you try until you can’t;
you laugh until you cry; you cry until you laugh;
and everyone must breathe until their dying breath.
no, this is how it works:you peer inside yourself,
you take the things you like and try to love the things you took,
and then you take that love you made and stick it into
someone else’s heart, pumping someone else’s blood
and walking arm in arm.
you hope it don’t get harmed, but even if it does,
you’ll just do it all again.
what if one of these days your heart will just stop ticking
and they sort of just don’t find you till your cubicle is reeking?
some days aren’t yours at all.
they come and go as if they’re someone else’s days.
they come and leave you behind someone else’s face,
and it’s harsher than yours, and it’s colder than yours.
the new coats of paint will not reacquaint broken hearts to broken homes.
We make our own gravity to give weight to things
all i need now is intellectual intercourse:
a soul to dig the hole much deeper.
we’ll love you just the way you are,
if you’re perfect.
i’m high but i’m grounded,
i’m sane but i’m overwhelmed,
i’m lost but i’m hopeful, baby.
i’m sad but i’m laughing,
i’m brave but i’m chicken shit,
i’m sick but i’m pretty, baby.
i recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone.
your love is thick, and it swallowed me whole;
you’re so much braver than i gave you credit for.
life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
when you think everything’s okay and everything’s going right,
and life has a funny way of helping you out
when you think everything’s gone wrong and everything blows up in your face.
i don’t want to be adored for what i merely represent to you.
How much is too much?
a little bit of me is terrified every time i realize the people i see every day,
the people who think they know me well, who count me amongst their friends
and whom i count amongst mine…
many of them don’t have a blessed clue in the world;
sometimes they notice if my stress level seems a bit higher than usual
(although it has to be through the roof to be markedly higher than normal)
or if i’m not quite so active in the things in which i used to participate;
the assumption is that i must be working.
and of course, i am… there is a great deal of work to be done, especially now.
not all of it is school work, though. not all of it is the same kind of work
they are confronting on a day to day basis.
maybe some of them are and i just don’t know it, since they don’t seem to notice
that i am not always thrilled to exist even when my work is minimal.
sometimes i am thrilled to exist even when the load is dragging me to my
knees.
i’m not the person everyone thinks i am, and sometimes that’s all right;
some people have the impression that i’m someone i don’t know that i want to be,
and it strikes me as possible that they would no longer “love” me if they knew who i was,
and what i maybe sometimes often never think i want out of life.
simultaneously, there are people who know everything about me,
every nit-picky little detail… and maybe that’s too much.
i am a burden on myself, how can i not be a burden on them?
is it easier to simply share a little of yourself and guard the part
that hurts and frustrates both yourself and others?
is it fair to share or withhold that part from someone who claims
they really care about you?
how much baggage is too much?
My life may not be something special, but it’s never been lived before
the fact that i adore you is but one of my truths.
I’m no less confused now than I was last night, but now I feel like babbling, and since this is my space, I can.
There’s a quote from Garden State (I know, I quote things entirely too often, but there is a beauty to other people’s words sometimes that I can never capture) that articulates exactly the way I’m feeling about Pennsylvania at the moment…
“You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? All of a sudden, even though you have some place where you put your shit, the idea of home is gone… just sorta happens one day and it’s gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It’s like you feel homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist. Maybe it’s like this right of passage, you know? You won’t ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself. You know… for your kids. For the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. I don’t know. But I miss the idea of it, you know? Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.“
My mom was right the other day when she said I’d rather be in Clemson than here. This has kind of become the place I visit my family and not so much my home. It’s not as though I really have an established home anywhere else… I’ve lived in no less than five different places in the last year. But home is with the life I’ve created independent of my house.
It’s a little weird when life shifts from directly involving your family to your family kind of being witnesses on the outside. While it’s a little sad, it’s a fact of life. It happens earlier for some people than others… it started happening for me a while ago.
I wish I knew what I wanted anymore. I mean… I have my whole life to find where I’m happy. But there’s certain decisions I need to be making in the next year or so that scare me a bit. I don’t know whether to settle for the “dreams” that are easily achievable (for me, not necessarily for those who haven’t been given the privileges that I have) or to shoot for the things I’ve always wanted but won’t necessarily ever get.
The only conclusion I’ve really come to through all this is that I’m a lot happier worrying only about what’s happening now than the future. I guess I was always too focused on the bigger picture to enjoy the details; the problem is just balancing the two. I don’t know whether to cease the “no day but today” philosophy and be and do what makes me happy now, or just buckle down and plan for what will make me safe/happy in the future. The question is whether safe=happy, or I’ll just be satisfied with safe and try to ignore the fact that it’s not making me happy?
Boys are stupid. Families are stupid. Traditions are stupid. Dreams are stupid. Fears are stupid. Worrying is stupid. Stress is stupid. Depression is stupid. Caffeine is stupid.
i wonder if everything i do, i do instead of something i want to do more.
When I look up, I just trip over things
A small sample of my day’s work…
I’m remarkably confused about some stuff right now, not all related… and the only way I know how to articulate certain things is through lyrics and quotes, as some people unfortunately have experienced quite a lot of late.
i gotta knuckle down and just be okay with this.
what good is a poker face when you’ve got an open hand?
i was supposed to be cool about this;
yea, i remember cool was the plan.
i don’t want to dissect everything today;
i don’t mean to pick you apart, you see,
but i can’t help it.
i recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone.
maybe the most we can do is just see each other through it.
there’s an obvious attraction to the path of least resistance in your life.
how ’bout me enjoying the moment for once?
this is not who i meant to be; this is not how i meant to feel.
the moment i let go of it was the moment i got more than i could handle.
if you’re not trying to make something better, than as far as i can tell, you are just in the way.
that i would be loved even when i numb myself;
that i would be good even when i am overwhelmed;
that i would be loved even when i was fuming;
that i would be good even if i was clingy.
one breath at a time is an acceptable plan.
i love you when you dance.
you give me a look that’s like laughing with liquid in your mouth;
like you’re choosing between choking and spitting it all out.
you were mind-boggling, you were intense;
you were uncomfortable in your own skin.
you were thirsty. but mostly, you were beautiful.
my heart is just a muscle, and simply put, it’s sore.
any talk of healthiness and any talk of connectedness
and any talk of resolving this leaves you running for the door.
i hereby amend everything i’ve ever said with this sigh.
oh these little rejections, how they add up quickly;
one small sideways look and i feel so ungood.
who am i that i should be vying for your touch?
though i know who i’m not, i still don’t know who i am.
capitalism is the devil’s wet dream.
you can express your deepest of truths even if it means i’ll lose you,
and i’ll hear it.
is all or nothing the best we can do?
