Hellish remorse and all that jazz.

I'm blogging too frequently nowadays. I think that's supposed to be a good thing but it feels SHAREY. Sharing never solves stuff for me, it brings out a million repressed things that were better left dead. I've been crying. Maybe it's because at home I feel lonely as well as antisocial. Don't know where I am, I'm not thinking of universities or moving on with my life, I'm stuck where everything hurts. Disturbingly, much of which that bothers me is long past. Something's happening. No, I'm not sure what. Ever thought that if you cut people free they will be better off, ever thought they'd be better off without you? I do all the time. But nothing is simple, how can I need them and not need them so much at the same time? Some of them are like sheep in a ranch. Even if you open the fence wide they won't move. Even if you scream and usher them out they stay right there. Are the ones sticking with me those delusional sheep? I'm afraid, you know. I don't like to be afraid or weak or lost but you can't save me. Sometimes you set people free, untangle the chains and they still keep coming back for you. Maybe they found something in you but I don't believe it. No one can possibly care about me. I'm too different. Too cold. Too sad. The tiredness is back and soon winter will sink in and inflame many of my joints and fill them with fluid. Rheumatism you see. Face your fears my mom always says. Face them all the time. You know what happens when you face them too much in too short a time? They eat away your resistance, they wear you down. And then it takes far too much energy to try and decide whether you are worth saving anyway. I'm tired of questions. Of explanations. Of solutions. Maybe I need a long vacation....maybe a new life...maybe a new place..who knows? I don't want to think. I don't want this anymore. My part in this story needs to be over. And you will forgive me of course, for not sticking around for the ending.

Infestation.

A while ago we suffered a bookworm infestation in our house library. A bunch of multiplying little white insects ate away many pricey books in secret. Yes, I found out way later because they were inside the books that I hadn't touched in years. And now they're all lost. Many of them were beautiful with sparkly covers and given by my nani who has as I have grown up, spent a fortune on books for me. She was adamant that I be THAT sort of girl. How safe I had kept them, how I had loved those inanimate things, how I'd keep the newer ones under my pillow as a kid because I missed her. Now that I think about it, she's the only one on Earth that's ever really taught me stuff. Table manners for instance. I look exactly like her,when she was young,though a much less finer version obviously. We have her wedding picture in the tv lounge and I've never seen any human being so regal, so untainted by the dirt of the world. She stares into the camera with that same innocence I have inherited. Except mine cost me everything. Sometimes I think she sees something of herself in me, perhaps she has found peace in my company because of it, but little does she or anyone know, how I am to spend eternity without it. I'm sure dear reader, you are hoping there is a point to all this and you're right... There is. And the point is this, that I'm eaten away just like those books I loved. Eaten away in bits and most of the time I can't tell which parts are gone. The good bits or the bad ones? Which chapter is lost, which character have I killed, what doorway leads where? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be, and to make who happy. But one thing is for certain, one's gotta deal with their bookworms before they eat away the good parts in us. All is more fragile and easily lost than you think.

People suck. So much so they've got me using the line 'people suck' and saying LOL. Save my soul someone!

It is highly vexing to realize from time to time that you are the least abnormal of the human species but must indeed use the word too liberally to be characterized differently from them. 

A Moment Of Clarity.

I love that concept explored at the end of Avatar The Last Airbender (how gay it is of me) of how he had to let go of his emotions and set free his guilt to be able to exercise his power. I find myself now at the threshold of having to do much of the same. There is no freedom to be found in who I am. There never was. But my best bet at surviving me is to accept it, the accept the circle of no-control and well frankly not give a damn. One of my friends, after reading my blog couldn't believe it was written by me! She said that I'm so fun-loving and exuberant that it was quite impossible...the whole thing. I found myself smiling and saying something I'd read or heard somewhere ' what if you're seeing only what I want you to see?' What if I manipulate your little minds to think things that aren't true? I'm so self-obsessed, I should be shot without delay. More often than not, we're dough in someone's hands or the other. I know I've been, yes I can be stupid just like the rest of you. Except I've always had the clause, the escape hatch, the get-out-of-jail-free card. But the rest of you are....well pretty much screwed. :D

Retribution is swift...just for the wrong people.

Never think things can't get worse because most of the time your imagination falls short. Bless me father for I have sinned. Before I confess in some typically vague way I want you to know and just you that I am a horribly sinful person for thinking I exercised some sort of right in other people's lives. In all truth, you can't create in these human beings ideas that you were gifted with and most definitely did not inherit. You can't make them respect themselves, you can't show them that lost idea of greatness and make them appreciate it, you can't save them from their petty choices. Most of all you can't live with them knowing that somewhere you're something better and that that can never be enough for those you have chosen to love. They are lies. Not liars, mind you but hideous little lies that someone should have protected me from, that I should have protected me from. I have fallen short and I have failed myself and there is nothing that can grant me forgiveness and peace.

I remember those days when all I felt was an emptiness...a void. Well now it's a wound. Right there in the center of my chest and it bleeds and cries and I can't block out the screams anymore. I can't feel hate or anger, just the relentless screaming like that of a little child left bleeding in the street. My soul feels choked to the brim and I'm knocking on all the doors around me but nobody lets me out. I keep telling myself every single day in the mirror that I'm something proud and beautiful and that no one can take that away from me but what if they're winning? What if they, with their common, mediocre ways are outrunning me and in all truth I don't really care. None of it matters anymore. I don't want their world, all I want is for them to let me go. We all get over our losses and achievements and fifty years from now there'll be absolutely no difference between the two. 

Drainage.

Life is becoming a chore. There is a tiredness in me that never goes away. Most days I just lie on my bed staring at the ceiling wondering how I'll survive the next day and the day after that, and the day after that. It doesn't seem worth it anymore. For a while I would try to act all petite and normal in the company of people especially friends,being all assholic and acting excited about new clothing lines and shoes and all other kinds of crap. But now...I seem to have lost control. I blurt out how I want it to end so badly and they laugh or ignore it completely. They are people of the world after all no? But sadly of shockingly little use to me. I don't really want it anymore,you know. I don't want them, I don't want myself, I don't even care about the worldwide fame I dreamt  of, all this time. Now all that holds me to anything is a strange sort of guilt that I must not let go because I loved that particular something or someone once. But things have changed, now I can't possibly love anything, now nothing can mean anything because the time for it to prove itself is up. Entirely up. I keep getting myself out of this and it keeps coming back and each time it's worse, the games my mind is playing on me keep advancing, as if they know exactly what my next move will be and that I don't have the will or the power to stop them. A terrible thing is a great mind because it is in such eternal conspiracy against all that exists, including its owner.  I had started my novel but now the very thought of it wroughts me with fatigue and a sense of loss. If I go back now, I won't be able to end it. I can neither fight nor surrender because both will kill me. There is no way to stay alive. Not even metaphorically. What the hell am I supposed to do? 

One last time.

I'm liking myself nowadays. There's some battles only you know you've won and mine have been dictated by a questionable upbringing, and some undesirable genes. Funny how I have an answer to it all, don't I? But don't let me make you believe that I put all the blame on others, it is precisely my inability to do so, that made me end up in that dump of a mindset in the first place. I have somethings I must do this year. For me. Then at least for a while, the fight will be over. 

Of default settings and the truth.

It's true. All my life it seems i have waited for some sort of happily ever after. One perfect event after which life would be just groovy. In the process of relying so heavily on this preposterous idea, i found myself continually disappointed and disillusioned with life and myself. I was also always comparing myself with others and maneuvering the situation around and about to somehow emerge superior in the end only because there was so much missing inside me. But something has happened. Now i'm not waiting. I'm ready for the yet more painful pitfalls of life, ready for the long haul as i said once. A short while ago i was ready to give up writing forever, i thought it would eradicate expectation from me, it would make me small, inconspicuous and useless, unable to be struck down by fate. In denial i had found anything but peace but there was no escape from the fear, the fear most of all, of hoping again. I wanted more than anything to stand up for myself to myself.  My only true enemy can be me, everyone else is what i allow them to be, their relevance is subjective.

I've also found that humans aren't as simplistic and primitive as i assumed. For the first time they fascinate me and I'm interested in their life stories. For the first time i want to learn rather than have it all figured out. For the first time i crave the experience rather than the seemingly inevitable end. For the first time it seems, I'm awake. 

Bibbidi babidi boo.

Everything is in place. Circumstantially nothing has changed but there is happiness in me again. This time around i will protect it with all i have in me,for i am ready to fight again and fight i will. I ain't suffering from long-term depression, anxiety or fatigue disorders or any crap like that, i will not be reduced to some petty human weakling when nothing about me has ever been merely human.With people like me such peace is transitory and tomorrow i might be back to my pointless suicidal posts but for today...till the clock strikes midnight, i shall patter about in my glass slippers like a delighted sociopath.