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I suppose this was a long time coming, as in hindsight events have been leading up to this for quite a while. I guess this is just an outcry of final breath; I have felt this way for a long time, but not had the heart to say it to anyone but myself. This may not make sense to people, but I at least have to make an attempt at explaining before just letting the dust settle in the attic.
I am not myself. I have not been for a while, receiving different conflicting influences from different groups in my life. My personality has been in flux, as many might have seen; I tried to hide it, or deny it, but I have become one walking contradiction. I have always disliked those, and now it seems I cannot care. Not being able to care somehow manages to make me really sad. Most things do now. This still does not make sense, even quite to me, but it is not saying it that makes the difference; it is seeing it in action and everything starting to mount up. Part of the worst part about that is that I let this happen; I saw it coming and I did nothing at all to stop this turning of events. I did nothing but watch and wait.
This revelation in the form of needing to write came upon me this weekend; I received so much of my resolution from the past three weekends previously, and concept reviewing from months back. I only now have the courage and the need to let everyone know my decision. This simplistic and yet utterly chaotic disclosure came from stepping back and watching myself with my friends, and paging through my emotions. My avoidance and pain makes sense when I piece everything together; I once laughed and told a friend that this was only a phase I was going through, but this is no phase.
To put it basically, and not drawl in riddles, I will attempt being more blunt then usual. My friends make me sad. And I do not just mean that they say something I do not get and I never get an answer. I mean they make me very sad to be around and it is sadness with a bite, as I am always in so much pain afterwards. I go to see friends in Denver, or in Greeley; I see friends at school and among the little groups and clubs I used to do.
What I do is perhaps more wrong and erroneous, even more wicked then just admitting to the fact seeing people once so dear to me causes my heart to hurt and my head to wheel with terrible thoughts. Automatically a happy, smiling face comes to my features and my eyes light up; I know what it looks like, but no one ever saw past the mask. A few people realized there was something seriously wrong with my system of morals and my priorities, but no one could really see how awful I am.
But I chatter about anything that comes to my unfortunately filled mind; I smile, and joke, and play dumb to people and their teasing. I really do not understand all of the hentai things they speak of, but I do know instantly when something is wrong. I even get curious sometimes, and regret it so often; that is not what makes me sad. I used to be happy like that, covering up bruises, hiding scratches or marks on my face, and not limping or flinching when someone poked something still tender from my normal life. I was really good at hiding it. I still am very good at it, but I just cannot do this anymore. It hurts.
I understand it is lying; it is how I have survived and tried to keep a place in the sick thing called society. I act happy, smile, laugh, and talk about funny things; I listen back and people respond positively, although it is rarely what I feel. I see my friends talking and laughing, being what the word friend implies; it gets so painful I have to wander off, or take off at a brisk pace. I cannot understand how they feel that way, and I cannot make any connection to what I see. I really have tried; I tried so hard and for so long.
But it is never real, this playing along I do; I just copy them and play along, the end goal being at least to keep other people happy so I could watch and maybe catch on. It did not work that way. I found I can help people with a little work, but I can also tear them apart without trying; good if I was to follow a future I once had, and go into a profession solely devoted to helping people. I need more help then the entire profession has to give. Back to the main subject I wish I had the ability to convey, to let people down easy, this is something that must be said.
I avoid people constantly now, nearly never making attempts to see people. It is hard, as people seek me out by phone, or by the net, or at school, and even in class. I cannot escape from the pain they bring. Sometimes I even get lulled into a false sense of hope, and get lured to spend time with friends. That is what has happened several of the past weekends now. From the Nan Desu Kan convention to the activities of these past few days; and every single time, it really hurts. It always starts out alright, the joy of getting out of my house and living just a bit, the crisp new feel of freedom and the comfortable feel of a mask I have used for so long. That mask gets heavier though, and I get sadder as things go on. I am not meant for long-term relationships such as friends apparently, because all I ever seem to keep inside is a kind of misery that is unsurpassable by anything I have seen or recognized in any form of conveyable language.
This weekend I was kidnapped on Friday by a friend, who I want to hold dear. I call her mother gladly, and I strived my hardest to think and feel it; I used to be able to, but all people have faded into different kinds of pain for me. We played around and were rather content for a time, as I forgot everything at first and was just the mask and nothing more; that was ok. Time went on to the next day; we met friends from the Con, pseudo-siblings times thrice. I managed to keep on that happy face for a first bit of the time, but I felt the distance growing. I am well aware I might put it there, but it is there nonetheless.
The day was fun in their eyes hopefully, but by the time it was up I was just in a thorough amount of pain; I wanted to cry and I could not even understand why. I do not try anymore though. I cannot cry anymore, try as I might to at least know I have that left to me. This all may sound horribly cliche' and even more so emotional and foolish, but there is no other way to put it. As for Sunday, that might be the worst. I was alone with someone I should call dear, but I cannot remember barely anything. I know I was up in the morning, but right after morning tea my life was lost to me.
I loose a great deal of my days, to moving through it like it never existed and not remembering a moment, or staring at the wall for hours in a daze; I wore holes in my carpet in a horse-shoe shape that I carved from pacing the same way for hours on end so many different days. I am not quite sure what happened Sunday, but I know I did something wrong. I always do something wrong, and people are nice and do not say anything, but I get an even deeper feeling of guilt then usual to compact onto my sadness when I do something wrong.
In part, I say this to help describe what I know I have truly ruined in myself; I committed one of the worst psychological crimes that a person can do to themselves, and I did it knowingly. People change gradually, and over time; I, as it has been pointed out to be part of my severely autistic nature, cannot handle even slight changes without degrees of panic and yes, further sadness. Seeing everything changing around me, at first what I did was subconscious. As does everyone, I have a darker part of my personality; the piece that takes the abuse, beats the sadness, strengthens my resolve, and keeps me determined and stubborn enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Although with this lost fight, it was more like swimming and now I have no will to keep kicking.
This darker part, as I have committed such an appalling crime in bringing up, was something I for the most part ignored. I did not even realize in my extreme stupidity I personified this part of myself right into a character. The danger message in bright red ink has been right in front of my face for years and I have not realized till recently; this only deepens my pain, as this darker part has already hurt people and will only continue to do so. It does not care, such a selfish and spiteful thing it is; if someone were to truly wrong it, I would fear so greatly for them.
I ignored it, and vented in writing all of the pain and sadness I keep putting into jars for later, but I am tired. I want no more. I understand now, from yesterday, I am going to lose. This darker part of me apparently has more control then I understood, and decided to try and undermine my efforts of caring for myself and others with destroying the bond with the friend I call mother. It worked. Such horrible things were said and I only know little bits and pieces. The silence afterwards was worse, as it was as if my senses were rendered useless and even though there was a person there, there was no one.
This is not the first time, as this piece of me likes to see people writhe and cringe; this piece of me would have all around me suffer, and I will not let that happen. It is no longer child versus psychologist. This is a true, all-out war between a part of me that will inevitably win and destroy the few threads I have left to everyone else versus the person that was just wearing a mask and was but a wisp of smoke underneath. Quite a bit of description but no sense, right? I still cannot make sense of what has happened to me, but I have been destroying myself slowly, piece by piece. Like hitting the delete button oh so many times on different files; all of it will be gone, but so slowly you barely notice. I know about how long I have been sick, which is about as long as my memory extends, and I really am tired. I want no more of this. I feel sad whenever I see my friends, and the more time I spend around them the deeper it becomes. So many times I have looked for ways out, but I always get talked from my determination and pulled back in. No more.
The worst part is, when I go home, I become less sad. I cannot say for safety reasons what my home is like, but anyone who has been around me for too long knows that my home is where I receive most of my damage, on all three levels of the human condition. Home is dangerous, and everyone was imploring me to get out. I resist change terribly, as it makes me sad and I only change in quick, unpredictable bursts; normal changes I cannot handle too well. This countdown till I become of age everyone was so riveted on, but I do not agree any longer. When faced with being constantly sad and hurting on the inside with friends, or just hurting on the outside and being alone at home, I will take the latter. I am never sad at home like I am sad when I go see people; it may not be safe for me on so many levels to stay at home, but at least I am never sad. They cannot touch me on the inside anymore, and the outside matters not. I am not moving out; not to stay with a friend I call mother or a friend I call sister, not to see any of the many that beckon me to them with open arms but clenched hands.
This decision will be frowned upon by many, but it hurts too much to see everyone. I do not want this anymore. I do not want any of it at all. No more friends, no more stresses and masks, no more smiling when I really just want to hide and cry. I guess a part of me still cares that people know, and what they think; this part is the minority and getting crushed out fairly quickly. I never hurt this much before I had real friends, and I never had to feel so awful all of the time. I want to complete responsibilities and challenges, and I want to fulfill promises that are left undone, but so much requires seeing people. I really cannot take it anymore. I do not want a vacation from life; I just want this to be over and done with.
I am tired of constant pain, and tired of the weariness and sadness; I am just exhausted from it all and ready for time to be up. Even more depressing to others will probably be the fact that I wish that risk percentage rate on my continued conscious life were higher; the worst part to this is I know exactly how to fix that problem with continuous medical study. I have probably gone insane, but this is the turning point I have it. Either I keep struggling against the current to swim to a shore not in sight, or I let myself get tugged down. I am too tired really, and there is something much stronger in me that hates me and wants to see me gone. I have a decision I have been putting off for a long time to make, and either way I still lose. I have lost, yet still stand on the edge of a cliff. Someone please push me.
 DarkRybrin · Mon Oct 23, 2006 @ 09:18pm · 3 Comments |
