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This is Why I’m the Way I Am

Sunday, December 30th, 2007

Oh how I hate today. I will not go into all the reason I hate it. It is the same as it always is over here. I am afraid and I am trapped. One should probably not feel so fearful in her parent’s home. (Non-pleural possessive on purpose.)
I am wishing so much I was in my own snug apartment, curled on the couch with my cat, or really, with any friend in America, even the distant ones, than here, now. A week and a few days, and I will be back. The beginnings of this week were uneventful, I hope after this ungodly day, it continues this way, though I doubt it. I can’t keep doing this, it takes too much out of me. Someday, my own self-preservation will outweigh my duty to my brothers and sisters – after all, they have each other. Step-parents in general should be banned. However, they will not be, as parents in general are selfish, angry, and childish. Then, children from previous marriages should be openly banned, so we can cease to cause such trouble to those who bore us – unwanted ticket stubs from a sham of a marriage that ended almost two decades ago.

As the famous line goes, the pitying soldier leaning over the grossly wounded but still choking body of his enemy – ‘For God’s sake, he’s still alive.’
Finish it, or leave us be.

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Perfect Exhaustion

Friday, December 21st, 2007

So I’m here typing once again, instead of being asleep like I should be. Why this time? I don’t want to go to Britain. It’s been a long while since I was eager to go, but right now I’m just dreading it. There are many reasons, but one is resonating, and has been resonating, so strongly right now.

I’m tired.

I’m tired of life. Which is sad, considering I’m young and 21, and ‘the world is my oyster’ – whatever that means. I don’t even like oysters. I’m tired of getting up in the morning. I’m tired of being alone, tired of lying in planes for hours, tired of navigating layovers and flight changes, tired of packing and unpacking, tired of trying to be a long-distance big sister and daughter to people whose lives function perfectly well without me, tired of fading friends, tired of explaining my life story to anyone who talks to me for more than 5 minutes, tired of being a ‘child of divorce’, tired of being strong, tired of psychoanalysing my family for my family, tired of surviving the experience of my family, tired of going to bed every night, tired of having to feed my grumbling stomach multiple times a day, tired of trying to figure myself out, tired of adjusting to change, tired of looking for stability, tired of the prospect of ‘future’, tired of my own past, tired of the present, tired of trying to please everyone, tired of being nagged, tired of being warned, tired of finding lack of happiness in too many places.

It’s only two weeks, but it will be exhausting. I will be yelled at, lectured, and generally emotionally abused by my father. I will try to catch up with the ongoing lives of my younger siblings. I will generally be isolated from the world, and probably be yelled at for reading too much. I will be yelled at for a lot of things. I will be tricked and lectured, and miss my cat and my privacy. I will do my best to comfort the young ones, as I have done for so much of my short life, from the yelling and the arguments, and the general hurt my family routinely inflicts upon itself.

But who am I to complain of anything. My father is rich, and I have travelled a lot. Certainly, my life is perfect.

I am so tired of being me.

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I’m Not Sure Who I Am

Thursday, September 27th, 2007

I’m so full of anger. And I have no patience. Everything that anybody does irritates me, and I’m constantly impatient. I wonder if maybe some part of me thinks if I can hurry things up I’ll get to ‘the good part’ – the one that doesn’t actually exist.

Do you wonder about yourself in the third person? About your mental state? I do it constantly. I’ve always felt like I’m simply an observer to my own being/thoughts. That’s why, so often, I say ‘I wonder if I think’ or ‘I wonder if some part of me thinks’. I analyse my own reactions, actions, moods, and feelings to get a grasp of what mental state I’m in, what my mind is doing behind my back. Or behind my brain. That’s really the only way I can gauge myself. Is that normal? It never occurred to me that it might not be, but I realised that I don’t usually hear other people say the above two phrases nearly as often as I say them myself.

I bring this up now because I’m rather afraid. I know the inner me, the one I watch – I mean, hell, I’ve been an observer for 21 years now. But I’m not behaving or reacting like past experience dictates that I should. And I’m kind of scared. I can’t explain why, and I don’t know why. I’m empty, cold, and angry. Every single person I interact with, from acquaintances (ok, I’m lying, make that singular) at school to a girl sitting near me in the library to the cashier at the store, infuriates me. Thankfully I’ve enough self control to keep my cool and behave as normally as possible.
But all that anger.

I don’t let myself think of anything. Anything but L&O; and hw. I deny myself thoughts of anything else. Repress, hold in, dismiss. Any of you who know me well, know this isn’t normal. No, no – I’m the one who argued with my psychiatrist so strongly last year that I couldn’t take anti-depressants because then I wouldn’t feel things fully, as I believe everyone should – because then you learn best and recover best. I’ve read psychology books. Repression = bad. = Crazy. = Mass murderers and such.

I think I might be on a quest to become a non-person. Watch tv, do homework. Watch tv, do homework. One – neither of those things infuriates me, like people do right now. Two – neither of those things are likely to fail me. If I can simplify my life down to that, then I need not worry about anything more.

As long as I’m busy, I can be a robot – albeit one that feels like it’s inner cogs are slipping and something is very, very wrong. When I’m not busy, I’m bottomlessly depressed and out of hope – living for tv and homework isn’t much to live for.

I wish I would go ahead and go crazy, or go dead. Head explosion, maybe. I need something to break, or something to change. Because right now I might be on the path to becoming dangerous.

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Confused, Sad

Saturday, September 15th, 2007

I’m glad this looks like it will end peacefully… I hope it really does. Despite what some may think, I really, really didn’t want to have to take it any further.

But now that my anger is gone, where do I get my strength? Suddenly I’m drained. Relieved, but suddenly vulnerable. A weight’s been lifted off my chest, but I’m suddenly sad. I feel once more like the abandoned and unwanted.

Thursday night I didn’t sleep well because I thought someone was repeatedly knocking on my door and calling my phone. Last night I slept very well, had no fears of such actions, but had sad, sad dreams again, for the first time in a while.

What do I do? How do I stop feeling like the worthless one?

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An Apology

Monday, February 26th, 2007

I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I didn’t let you get away with it this time as you hoped I would. I’m sorry I always let you get away with anything in the past. I’m sorry I helped you believe that everything is forgivable and true hurt is never caused by your misactions. Especially not true hurt you yourself will have to feel. I’m sorry I never held your feet to the fire and made you learn that some things aren’t forgivable, and so shouldn’t be done. I’m sorry I let you scare me into keeping all your secrets all the time.

But don’t worry. I’m sure in your future there are many girls who will be led in, and who will let you get away with murder, just as I did so often. So you won’t ever have to really learn.

I’m trying to bother certain people as little possible… but it’s hard, the temptation is strong. But it’s part of what I get of this, and I must accept it.

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I Touched the World, and It Bled

Friday, February 23rd, 2007

I’ve caused a lot of pain in the past two days. A lot of hurt. For once in my life, I know it’s not completely my fault. I did take my part in it, yes, and I am partially responsible, but I did not act alone. This idea grinds against my mentality, though. It’s funny – when I was young, they gave me so much therapy so I wouldn’t believe that my parent’s divorce was my fault, even though I never did. No… instead I believe every other evil in the world is my fault.

Even if the actions were not done alone, I did decide to speak out. I know that I probably could have left it all alone, let it slide away, hope it disappeared. Hope that it stopped eating away and my brain, burning me inside. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. Knowing this, I hurt – for causing so much hurt. It’s probably a good thing I can’t go back and undo things, because I’m weak, and I despise myself for causing pain, even if it was not all my fault, and I want to make that feeling go away. I know that, in words, I probably did the right thing. And it doesn’t burn me inside anymore. No, now I have the pain of others and the pain of loss to do that.

The part that stops me short of damning myself completely is one small thing: that this other participant’s anger is less at me speaking out, and more at me speaking out with hard proof. I discover the plan was to cast me as insane, as blowing things out of proportion, as not being quite in my right mind. And by bringing proof, I destroyed that plan. That hurts. It’s ok to fuck with the crazy girl cuz nobody will believe her anyway, right?

Right now I feel empty. I’m hurting, quite a lot. I don’t know what the future is, what it holds. My mind stops short of thinking any further than tomorrow. I’ve taken a tough action, accepted my punishment, and suffered deep loss. My only comfort is that I’m clean again. No more evils inside me, except the ones that always reside within.

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There’s a distant sadness, but mostly relief

Tuesday, February 20th, 2007

It made me cry, because it was kind contact I did not expect at all. And it is appreciated very much… But it’s too far away now, I’m sorry…

Apparently there was confusion: last night I drove around the metroplex for a long time. I guess to see what would happen. Tried some of those things you always wonder about when driving, but nothing happened. Nothing happened. My desires did not change, I did not calm. So I came back, which I said I would do. I couldn’t do anything last night but drive or sit, you see, because all the stores were closed. So I had to hang around until today. No school for me today, of course, because there’s no point.

For those of you curious, I plan to go to orchestra practice tonight, because I enjoy my violin a smidgen still. And there’s no rush, I have plenty of time.

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I do not ask for you pity, nor your advice. I know my craziness better than anyone.

Monday, February 19th, 2007

Crazy Calm, Crazy Calm. Tears and screams. Blood and pain. Oh yes, and yes. Give me all the pain, give it to me. Life your life happily, You will find out how much I can take. The answer is no, I cannot. Blood blood blood. This is too much, and I am too far gone, now. I know my answers are crazy, my reasoning mad, my actions insane. I know you all disagree, shake your heads, shake your heads in disapproval. But there’s a way out and I’m taking it. I was perhaps making do with one, perhaps I could have made do with the other. But both? no no no. I’m too far gone, you see. You will not miss me. You will not. You may think so, but it’s a falsity. I tried, I did. Every time I started to pull myself up, another blow came and knocked me down. Every time I felt a reason to perhaps rally once more, another blow came. I’m tired of this, and I have no strength nor mental capacity to do anything else. Stupid, I know, yes, very stupid. But I will care little for your cries of calling me stupid when I’m floated away on a cloud, and I hurt no more.

You cannot imagine with what hope I look forward to painlessness. I only first must clear up a few last sad drops of hellos and apologies.

Tonight there is no sleep, for I will drive and drive, and see how far I can go in one night. But I will come back, for driving alone is nothing but to pass the time. And action must be taken! Oh I shiver. But not in fear.

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Dear Emma:

Friday, February 9th, 2007

You fool, why are you still here? What tiny hope do you yet cling to in that pulpy mess that used to be a heart? Let go, you idiot. There is no hope. Accept the truth. Accept that happiness is not coming, that good things are not going to happen. Just let go and give up. Why can’t you do it yet? It’s been long enough. You hurt and you cry, but you won’t take care of it all. You’re still too damn scared. Look, you’ve been over this a hundred times before. It hurts too much. There’s a limit to how many tears and how much pain anyone can suffer – why won’t you just reach it and die. But I see those tiny tapes of wavering hope you play in the dark nights to help yourself fall to unconsciousness. I see the lies you tell yourself to trick your brain into thinking there’s something worth waiting around for. What?! What is it?! Nothing! Give it up, bitch. You’re alone in your pain – everyone else got their happy ending. And that’s not going to change. The dice have been rolled, the cards are down, the votes are in, and you lose. Hope will only get you hurt. Everything will only get you hurt. Look at the past – draw your conclusions right there. After three months of shit in your face you really think tomorrow you’re suddenly going to get rainbows and puppies? Ok, so let’s say things are going to get better. When exactly? A year? Five years? Oh, well then. Only an eternity of pain between now and then. And exactly how? What could this world give you that would make you feel better? Nothing you give yourself makes you feel better. Nothing anyone else can offer makes you feel better. You’re broken, Goddamnit – just fuck off. You’re making everyone miserable. Give up the minuscule drops of hope that only guarantee you more hurt when they too fail. And they will fail. They always do. And you know this.

God, whore. I hate you more than anyone.

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Makes Bad Decisions, Can’t Envision a Future

Sunday, February 4th, 2007

My psych-person (yes, he made me come in twice in a week… he cares so very much) told me on Saturday he thought he knew ‘why’:

His theory is that my pre-frontal cortex is decently atrophied. This means it doesn’t do it’s job. The sending the receiving of signals and such. The pre-frontal cortex is the part of your brain that helps you decide good and bad, better and best, and forming ideas of the future, picturing the future, and making good decisions towards the future. He says this did not happen suddenly, but over a long period of time. Repairing and growing more functional during the times when things were going well, and growing more atrophied during the darker times. Probably going back to my young childhood. This depression probably pushed it to the point I’m at now, which is not a good point.

I did some of my own research and read some stuff that suggested this kind of weirdness seems to be caused by lack of adequate connections forming. We humans, we learn by reward and punishment, even in brain function and growth. It’s complicated, go read a book. But anyway, this weirdness seems to be caused because good and bad decisions are not adequately rewarded and punished, trust relationships are not adequately rewarded (by being proven trustworthy), and future plans/visions are not adequately rewarded (instead, being punished by being proven to be worthless because they go awry).

The interesting thing about the pre-frontal cortex is that those damaged in this area can often pass written or theoretical tests on good-decision making, but then, in real-life situations, display bad judgement and ability to see to the future. So, when asked out loud about what decision should be made, and when looking back in retrospect, people can make the right decision, but when actually taking action, they’ll make the wrong decision. Sounds like the story of my life, doesn’t it: Regret.

So. Long story short: I’m pretty much fucked. Too bad the whole result of the damage is that I don’t care.

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