I don't prefer obscurity, but I'm an idealistic girl

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 15:46:36 GMT

I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe. Caro sends me a text this morning that says "Just remember it's your brain affecting your body. You are ok. You will be ok." But what do I do when my body is breaking, and my brain is already broken? I don't know; I don't know what to do. A phone call at 8 am and I lied. I was half asleep, but I lied to her. I heard myself saying those words and I am regretting it already. I need to make it to Friday. Friday, friday, friday. I was calmly sipping coffee, but I started shaking. My heart was racing, my thoughts were racing. Maybe it is the caffeine I am telling myself. Maybe. Okay, I'll stop the liquid intake. I feel completely nauseated anyway, but I can't convey this any better. I CAN'T FRICKIN BREATHE AND THIS IS SCARING ME. WHY CAN'T I DO ANYTHING ABOUT THIS?

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 23:00:57 GMT

Hi there, life. Please don't allow me to have another nervous breakdown, because I don't think I can handle it.

I learned today that I am not crazy, just misled. According to my reports I often engage in behavior that is "degrading, masochistic, and avoidant. Symptomatic of chronic illness, this has led to deep debilitation and profound negative effects on my psyche and emotional state." Major depression is not surprising, but PTSD is. I have it, and I have it severely. It hurts to admit that, but I refuse to be hospitalized and/or made a pawn of myself.

So starting tomorrow, I am attempting to withdraw from half of my classes. I still need to work and do my stressful, crappy internship (which isn't helping things), but I will be SO INCREDIBLY RELIEVED if this actually works out. I will still be busy, but I will have time to sleep during the day and that is the important thing.

Friends, I need you now. Sunday showed that the dam is breaking, and I am collapsing. I am slipping away from myself and I need to alleviate a lot of the pressure. I hope this works, because I need it very, very badly.

Um yeah, that's it.

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 15:59:58 GMT

I have a serious problem with the severe problem that happened last night. Does that make sense? I didn't sleep at all, but Katie slept with me and that made everything so much better. Also, Caroline come here. I miss you.

Sun, 23 Sep 2007 01:24:40 GMT

I took the test. Eight days to see the results. I can't wait. I crave talking and listening but it is hard, hard, hard and all I seem to do is argue. I push and I pull and then I want to go back and can't wait. Time moves so slowly.

I just want you to know that I love you, and miss you, and I'm sorry. I feel guilty and terrible and mean. But perfect and right and justified. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Oh my God, this hurts so bad.

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 04:10:28 GMT

She tells me I am sick. Or rather, that she doesn't know for sure but all the questions and more importantly, all of the answers, point in the right direction. At first, I am scared, then immediately relieved. There is a name for this, there is name for what I am feeling. What I am thinking, what I think about. Then I am reeling, comparing this to what I hope are inaccurate media depictions of this. What I hope I am wrong about. She recognizes the stereotypes rotating in my head and addresses them. I just stare at her because I have no idea what to say. I'm already thinking about Friday. Wrapping my brain around the test I will have to take. The one she filled out the paperwork for because I didn't know how. All in capitols, just like my dad. It is a test I will inevitably pass. I am scared. I am so incredibly scared.

And still I can't help imagining that my mom would have semi understood. How she was on my side, even if most of the time it was backed by delusions and paranoia. There was always the chance, albeit a slim one, that she would be right and I would feel okay, protected even. Always the chance that I would feel not so alone.

It's ironic now, as I have learned to hold myself up, be my own best friend. More than make it work, I always had myself and I won't give up or turn on myself. I am learning the hard way, I suppose. First and foremost, betrayal is a process that starts and ends with yourself.

It is because of this that it hurts so much when she tells me I am breaking. Wholly and definitively. There is no if. I am unreliable now; I can't be content that I always have myself when I can't be on my own side now that I know that my side isn't secure.

So I am thinking about all of this and how even though tonight was now about sides, I still feel like it somehow was. It was a misunderstanding, something that shouldn't have happened and then did. It exploded, a simple miscommunication. Nothing major, but somehow the lines are already being drawn unintentionally. I can't help feeling like this is freshman year all over again, that this is growing up in Novi too. That I am being labeled the attacker already, when I don't feel I am. I fight defenselessly in everything. I need to protect myself against myself. It's simple really, but the problem is I am protecting something that is collapsing. I need to feel like people understand, that they are not taking sides about everything. I feel that they are and they aren't and that is what is so hard.

The funny thing is, I don't want to be like her. All defensive, paranoid that everyone is out to get me when they're not. But still when I describe myself, she asks what parent I am most like and I say something that I don't even remember saying. Mentioned the word "crazy" in reference to my mom, and then inadvertently compare myself to it. But when she tells me what I said, it doesn't seem fabricated. It seems right. Like something I would have said. And that hurts. So much. I am my fist and last everything, and I am turning on myself. I can't make it stop, and I wish I didn't need other people to pull me out of it, when they won't, or can't, or don't.

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 00:17:19 GMT

I miss you. I miss you so much. This has got to stop.

Sun, 16 Sep 2007 03:11:40 GMT

I don't know what to do about this one. I did some research, and maybe (?) you are a bit more perceptive then I think. I need to give you more of a chance I think, even if you tell me things that make me hurt. People get hurt from time to time. Thinking is fine, just not racing thoughts. You are right. But this is terrifying. I am terrified. I don't like admitting that. Saying it feels strange. I don't want this identity, but I want the remedy. Is that possible? Sure, sure it is. It makes sense to me, right? I don't know.

It is okay to not know. I believe that. I am content. I think. I need to talk to you, but I need to wait.

My roommate asks me if I had a bad day. I reply "Well, I just had a really weird night."

Maybe that's an understatement? I don't know. I'm twenty years old; I don't want to be held by the hand. But I need you in a childlike way. I feel vulnerable, and I wish I had a checklist to tell me what was appropriate now. Because the practical side of me can't decide.

Sat, 15 Sep 2007 00:53:38 GMT

"You are wrecking havoc on your body, so much that you are losing bodily functions. You are a nice person but you have spent your whole life protecting everyone, protecting the world from itself. People get hurt from time to time. You wanted someone to take care of you and hug you and love you and tell you it's going to be okay. You had flashes of something that you wanted from her and then nothing, and you wanted more. But you can choose to end those relationships now whereas then you didn't have a choice. You didn't learn from your parents how to be a good parent to yourself."

"How about just telling them? You can just say it. I did. It's awkward, but wouldn't you want to know too? You need to learn how to be a person. You're not allowing yourself to be anything but a robot. You need to learn to be a real person, because you're not."

Yeah? Well, it hurts being a real person. It hurts really fucking bad when you tell me I'm not because I think I am. I feel something, don't I? I feel everything and it's being stapled into my lungs and I don't know how to deal with it. But I know its not about feelings anymore; it's about programming. I didn't know what to say to you when you told me about the accident in grad school and then about your baby, but I appreciated that you did. When you told me about your baby, and I understood the point and what I was supposed to feel, and then immediately what I didn't. Eleven year olds are different then babies. Don't give me that. Babies can't eat by themselves; they have absolutely no concept of failure. I feel like I failed, and that's the difference. And its a pretty big difference if you ask me.

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 20:43:02 GMT

When it comes down to it, I really just want everything, and can't really have anything.

I guess I can be content with this?

(I don't want to be taped next week). Waah.

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 02:01:21 GMT

Seriously, okay, the idea of being a cat lady is very depressing.

Most of my friends are in relationships, or if they are not, have been in serious relationships in the recent past. Half of my friends are currently in relationships with someone I would not be surprised if they marry. I am disgusted, and terrified, and extremely happy for them. All at the same time. But at the same time, this loner status has to go.

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 23:03:35 GMT

I am in love with this. She looks so beautiful and happy.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&VideoID=17502414

when all the colors mix together and it breaks her heart

Mon, 03 Sep 2007 21:44:01 GMT

I hate how people are capable of hurting each other this bad. I'm thinking of all the times that someone gave me that look and I felt myself breaking in half, slowly and tangibly. First my sister, then every member of my family in succession, then all the rest. All the boys and all the girls. The last one I remember really hurting was Caro last summer (Don't kill me for saying this). Remembering how I wanted to hold her when I saw it etched in her eyes. But I couldn't do anything except look at her and walk out of the room. There's nothing you can do when it's in someone's eyes. You can help erase faces sometimes, but never eyes. Oh God, It hurt so bad. I drove straight to Lansing and cried the whole way. Nothing's quite the same now, and I realize that. All I can think about now is how he said I have nice eyes. He was giving me the same look, only reversed. How he said he can see things in my eyes. What? What can you see? What is it?

Christ, I want to know. Because you have to admit things to yourself. You have to, or you will never get anywhere. You just won't.

Sun, 02 Sep 2007 03:58:57 GMT

It is so painful to be home right now. Wanting to hide away for the entire weekend, but knowing it's impossible to do so as I can't stand being here for more than 24 hours. I'm wearing pants she gave me, drinking pop she would have drank. It's still stupid, but I would never do either of these things anywhere else. It's finally sinking in, and I'm glad, but it is so incredibly painful. The first few weeks were so chaotic, businesslike, practical. Trying to get ready for school, work, scrape up money, clean the house, bank accounts, everything. Months full of paperwork, lawyers, credit reports, bills to pay. There was no time for anything intrinsic, anything to remotely begin the process of saying goodbye. Here I can feel her presence all around me, and that is not necessarily a good thing. It was always so tense when she here. And what's worse, I was always so childlike next to her. Eager to please, more prone to cry, easier to love without boundaries. It is a completely different world here; I am being wrapped in all the material traces of pain, reverting back to the child I don't want to be. I can't escape the masochism of it; it's painful but comfortable, so is that really a bad thing? Memories aren't filtered here, so is that a good thing or a bad thing? I have horrible dreams because of it, but at least it feels real. I'm either sleeping or sobbing here, but at least it's honest.

Still. I can't stop thinking about what he said, how he claimed balance could happen with fingertips on top of one another. How he kept saying that I will never be able to control it, that I am just trying to achieve balance. He demonstrated it for me, fingers outstretched, dangling precariously on top of one another. Like that Renaissance painting, fingers barely touching, links between heaven and earth.

Still. As beautiful as it is, I want to find balance with my whole body, not just with my fingertips. It's heartbreaking to hear him say that I will never be able to do this. So casually he tell me things can never be controlled- that balance is not synonymous with this. Maybe he's right, but I really don't see how that's supposed to make me feel better.

So he tries other things. Tactics to make me feel stronger and relieve tension. I find them accurate but amusing at the least. Forces me into a strict workout schedule, tells me to buy a notebook and write down everything. How do I tell him I have plenty of unused notebooks, that I've stopped writing, that I detest everything I write?

Still. I do as he asks and go home. Find a green notebook of my mom's, and take it with me, pretending that it's going to be of some use. It's easier than what else he asks me, telling me that I need to hang out with my friends more, let people in, that I need to tell them more than what's on the surface. Burden them even. Ummm, okay. First force myself on them, and then dump my overwhelming burden+ 20 years of personal and family history on top of them. Watch them scramble with what to do/ say and feel guilty for burdening them with something they didn't ask for in the first place. That may be beneficial for me, but is that really for them? I don't feel like I need to ask permission to be selfish, but I certainly don't like the way it makes me feel before, after, or during. So, I guess I just apologize in advance?

So. I am coming home tomorrow, a complete wreck, the loss finally sinking in. Needing to get things done, not just sleeping and tears. Wanting body pressure to weigh me down, and not air and lung pressure suffocating me. Ahah, what to do.

randomness (and some John Mayer)

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 23:54:37 GMT

Two wrongs make it all alright? I couldn't stop thinking about you all day, and people keep mentioning theirs and I am crinkling my nose and mussing up my hair. So casually, words slipping between my fingers, and I'm mumbling them all to Katie. It dissipates, and soon evaporates. Feeling guilty because I want to see you, but I wouldn't give anything to do so. First day of school, first time not school shopping with my little sister. Woke up early, rushing to get ready for work, slept through my meeting, woke up late again, rushed to class. Came home with a headache and empty promises to myself. Three meetings today; I just want to make you proud. Trying to convert my home life to something here outside myself. Trying to open up and let it out. I just want to take everything in. It's beautiful outside and the air is filling my lungs and I'm laughing, but still missing you in a way I thought I never would. Because back to you, it always comes around. Trying to forget all the pictures in my head. Doesn't it scare you that the world is not as strong as it used to be?

let's rock this city

Wed, 22 Aug 2007 02:57:01 GMT

Fuck you job. There better be some damn fiiine parties to go to on the 25th, because that is the only night I have off of welcome week. SATURDAY BITCHES. We will all be here, so LET'S DO THIS.

(I am so gross and in college. Yay).

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 15:27:58 GMT

Stop, stop, stop, stop, you are pressuring me and you make me want to vomit. I want this? Yes, maybe, but not this. With you. I feel like I can never be a normal person because everytime someone touches me I want to curl up into a ball and die.

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 05:03:38 GMT

He calls me Puppet. I can't decide if this is endearing, mildly weird, or condescending. Or maybe all three. He spent all of today hitting on me and I am tired, tired, tired, tired of it. I like him, but I can't stand him. Yes, you are attractive; you say everything with a smile that could melt polar ice caps. But it is not discernible; it is not clear whether what you are saying is a joke or not. I don't think you are joking, and I am mildly intrigued/ completely appalled at the forwardness. You are relentless, and not in a good way. I tell you this, and you smile at me the same smile, and I tell you to stop looking at me like that. With that knowing smirk. You say "what look?" with the same look. Deadpan accuracy, smooth as glass. I want to to punch you in the stomach. I want to slam you against a wall, kiss you, and then throw up. In that order. You are fucking confusing me. Then you're not, and I am scared to even touch you, because I know what it means. Until I give up and hold your hand, you look at me the same way, and still I'm not smiling. I think I'm just giving in. You make me awkward, uncomfortable with your actions- which are so clear and which I'm ironically wishing they're not. But you don't believe in awkwardness. I am terribly awkward. For you to tell me I am making up these situations, and there are no inherently awkward situations, I want to...something to you. Life is awkward, buddy. Shit happens, you see things you don't want to see, people are awkward because of it. Sure, you can dismiss situations by laughing about it, but that will not stop anything from occurring in the first place. I want you to stop calling me, so I can stop making excuses. I want this so fucking bad, but I don't want to settle for what I can get. I don't want you, but I can't stop thinking about you. Don't ask me questions I can't answer; I don't know what I want.

Fri, 10 Aug 2007 21:34:41 GMT

It's sadistic to half laugh, throw my hands up in the air. An expression of mock exasperation. Are you okay? Yeah, sure, okay. Not even awkward, just in between bench jumps and side lats I heard her telling me these things and I had to look away. Razor blades, hidden mother lesbian relationships. Craziness post college, parental divorce. Different circumstances, but the same idea. I hope you find what your are looking for. I hope you find some comfort and peace. Yes, A little numb, but an improvement from wanting to cry. I just stared into clear blue eyes, yeah, okay, sure. I know what it's like; I guess we are more alike then we think. I am going to tell her. Yes, this is random, but I hope she is happy. I hope the bad periods don't become good ones in comparison to what lies next. Thank you for not knowing anything about me, and knowing the exact right thing to say. Me, Cam, surprised. I feel so at peace now. Thank you for telling me about the stoplight; the bad parts are dying one by one.

Sunday, sunday, sunday. I am going to tell her, and I will look into her eyes and do it. It is none of my business, but who cares about appearance. It is the only thing that needs to be said.

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 00:20:31 GMT

Okkkay, I just watched the best series finale of my life. Oh my God, I can't stop crying. This is ridiculous. I am crying about a tv show. Ahhhaha.

Credibility and pride as sincerity are deadly combinations.

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 01:37:41 GMT

Haha, whatever. I say things to irritate, to walk into quicksand knowingly. I just want to gauge reactions, but I don't really care. Not really. It's worthless to pretend. No explanations are necessary. You are right again! Fuck you. Why is everything such a chore? I make it that way, to make it SOME way. To make it be anything, but indifferent and ignored and.... at the same time, I don't really give a shit. I don't know why I do it. Reasoning is beyond normal comprehension; reasons don't offer solutions. It's not a big deal at all, sure. I agree. I know. I just want to see if I'm capable. Don't judge me for the test that it was. Things matter, but they don't. So do whatever. Feel whatever, nothing, anything you want. Because I am turning. I want to deflect everything back to you. Knives are knives; turning on me or yourself doesn't matter. It's all going to the same place anyway. Believe, believe, believe you won't unleash it back. Sure, why not? Why not.

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 12:30:40 GMT

I waited so long for answers and I finally got one and it's not what I wanted to hear. Be careful what you wish for, blah, blah, blah. I don't like this, life. I don't like your answer. Take it back and give me a new one.

Thu, 02 Aug 2007 03:57:51 GMT

It helps when I lay for hours in my bed, not moving. Until I can feel tingles running up and down my spine and I am awake, alive, something. Smoke my mind into a state of consciousness I can deal with. I am preparing now. Reformat reformat reformat. I am moving in, without really "moving in" and it feels strange. I am just hoping everything works out. Namely that I get my computer fixed and readjust my focus so I can do decently in my class. Say goodbye to NPL, start running, packing, updating, cleaning. Pay for class, sign forms, mail things, have things mailed back to me. Finish projects, books, Corey, life. Don't obsess over money. Pay for everything now, and see how much I have left before I move in. Make tentative, realistic budget and stick to it. The NR sleep schedule is the same as my own now, and that might be a good thing.

I am tired of anticipating. I need you to be here. I need to pack minimally, but it won't happen. I need I need I need. I am tired of it, tired of not saying anything. Tired of laying too much and not getting anything done. Money and time, money and time. DON'T CONSUME MY LIFE.

And please, please, please computer, work. I can't live without music.

PS: Laura, Katie, and Amyface- I can't wait to see you. I bought you small surprises for your beds. Get excited.

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 12:47:40 GMT

Come on baby, work out. Please, I need you too. Almost back in EL. This feels strange. I am unprepared for everything.

PS: I have no music, and this is very, very frustrating. I will only have very, very select music when I go back to school. Which is like, you know, Ani.

The kindness of strangers?

Sat, 28 Jul 2007 19:56:25 GMT

Part 1: I’m awake five minutes too early; my stomach is crawling out of my skin. Trying to escape from myself- I want you to know, but I cannot force things out. Thank you for giving me time, but there is so much more. All I want you to do is hold me, so stop asking. Squeeze until the pressure mounts, until I feel the blood beating between my ears. The only feeling I can control. Wrap your arms around me and don’t let go. Please, dear god. I despise begging, but I don’t what else to say. I cannot sleep when you are not there and I am not good with questions when I don't have the answers for any of them.

Part 2: So I go to work, the last thing I want to do. Pushing time, although movement is not action. I am exhausted, so I ask a girl I do not know to switch shifts with me tomorrow. She looks uncomfortable, and I tell her she doesn’t have to. “It’s okay, not a big deal. Please, Brandi, don’t worry about it. I know it is short notice.” She says she would, but she has church tomorrow. “It’s alright; I understand.” She looks skeptical and five minutes later takes me aside and asks me if I am alright. I am honestly startled by the attention. I met you five minutes ago. What can you possibly suspect? People I’ve know for years don’t notice anything at all. Who is this girl? She says she’ll do it for me, makes an excuse for needing a day off she doesn’t. Tells me I look sick. Looks directly into my eyes the whole time, and I have to break away. Says she can skip church, her “family reunion” is Thursday and she needs that day off more. Thank you Brandi, thank you so much for lying to me out of concern. I am familiar with that sentiment. For once I understand.

When does Caro come home?

Thu, 26 Jul 2007 03:00:05 GMT

MSU's tuition went up 10% for the year, making my grand total with all expenses around 10,000. FOR ONE SEMESTER. Granted, this is including everything I could possibly think of, and it might be more like 9,500 if I live like a Bangladesh kid food wise, but CHRIST. I kinda want to crawl into a hole and die.

And to top it all off, I tried to explain to my dad how living off campus was actually cheaper than paying 3,100 a semester to live in the dorms. To which he pointed out that then I have to have my car on campus, thus making it more expensive with insurance. Screw you dad for being right.

But one of us has to have a car, so I don't feel that bad. Right? And by "that bad", I mean like a terrible person because my schooling is so expensive and my sister pays ON AVERAGE (good lord) 12,000 less than me a year.

Okay. Add one more thing to FREAK THE FUCK OUT OVER to Cam's plate. Yes. Well then.