Tag Archives: life

Vaguely, Humanity.

I think that I am going insane.

I no longer feel human.  I feel empty and jaded.  Sometimes when I forget about him, or about my life in general, and I find the peace within myself to do something I used to love, I am at ease.  But I am crazy.

Life has become so exhausting.  I fear any relationships I form with people at this point are a matter of convenience.  I fucking hate people.

Was I ever thoughtful and compassionate and trusting?  Was it all just a dream?  I feel like I am not even sentient anymore.  Like I am just a mental mishap drifting between death and dormancy.

Even at my worst, in my old life but a memory, I had pride in some things.  I am confident in my writing, my soul, my capacity to do good by other people; In my old life.

Why do I have a job where I spend all day being scrutinized and socialized and standardized by ass-hat socialites?  Why do I have friends who I in earnest have nothing in common with?  Why do I even have friends?  Why do I employ effort in humanity at all when I don’t consider myself to walk amongst it?

I no longer conform to life.  I am no longer breathing.  I am drifting, and agonizing, and dying.  One day I will be dead.  It will be enough.

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My chains.

I think that I am sad.  Perpetually, perhaps.  I think that I do not feel the capacity to be happy without him in my life.  That is sad.

I’m in a lot of turmoil.  Every day brings new opportunities, new horizons, new faces, but I am restrained.  It’s a tough pill to swallow–knowing that you are holding yourself back, but not being able to change that.  I am bound by chains he never freed me from.  And I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.  I think he was a good person–albeit a lost one.  I don’t even dare to say it’s his fault anymore.  He’s allowed to find what he was missing.  He’s allowed to explore this world and discover the kind of person he will become.  I am allowed to do this as well.

I think that there are many things I wish I could be doing.  I am so underdeveloped in my life.  I am lacking in an environment I should be thriving in.  I feel silly even typing this because I know I could be pursuing something I’ve always wanted to do right in this very moment, yet here I am, pitying myself.

I posted an entry from my summer journal on my blog today.  Apparently on July 19th I had already come to understand what our breakup meant for me, and where I was going to take myself.  I feel like I was perhaps on the right path for awhile.  I remember when I returned to the city after the summer–my kittens in tow–I was ready to start a new life.  I was feeling comfortable in my own skin for the first time ever, and my outlook on life was rivalled by only the sun making it’s first break through the downtown core in the early hours of the morning.  I look back fondly at this time.  I remember applying for my job and being really excited about being hired.  I remember surprising myself at how quickly I was settling into a new life in the city.

It all kind of… stopped.  It stopped when I had him over to visit late August.  It stopped when we kissed and touched and found eachother in a mess of blankets in my bedroom once again.  It stopped when he continued to touch me and flirt with me and seduce me inbetween fawning over his new relationship.  It stopped when he made me feel disgust for myself again.  When he made my body and my mind feel exhausted and used again.  When he stopped talking to me, and started, and stopped, and started, and stopped.

And here I am blaming him again.  It’s not really his fault.  It’s mine.  It’s mine for knowing that I am vulnerable, and allowing myself to be vulnerable in front of a man who saw that vulnerability as something fit to be toyed with.

It’s my fault that it has been so long since I’ve known my own heart.  It’s my fault.

And it’s good for me to realize this.  Self-hating.  Self-blaming.  In this instance it is good, because in this instance it is allowing me to see that where I am right now is where I’ve left myself in the wake of everything that has happened.  He did not leave me like this–I left myself like this.

I am not ready to be with someone.  I am a fool to always be so heavy hearted.

I am on the verge of rising to my feet once again.  Like a young fawn, my knees will wobble, and they will buckle, but I will learn to stand for myself someday.  And no, I can’t say when that day will come, but that is alright for now.  I have accepted my circumstance.

The next person I fall in love with will be myself, and that is a commitment I can make without another’s presence, validation, or trust.

I validate myself.  I trust myself.

Reasons for my rhyme.

What are they?  This poetic, dramatic life of mine–for what reason does it persist?

I am depressed.  I am longing and broken and have nothing short of no will at all.  But I’m still here.  Life keeps going.

I’m just a cog.  I just fit into my little nook and keep the world rotating for as long as I should not break.  I am expendable.  I am replaceable.  I serve the axels their coffee and wish them well in their endeavours.  Life keeps going.

I sit alone.  I am anxious and I am lost.  I speak my heart, but I am not validated.  I am not acknowledged.  I am not mature, I do not know feeling, I am not sentient.  I’m still just that silly cog feigning stress.  All I need is some oil.  Life keeps going.

Life just keeps going.  I’m of no consequence.  I’m not a problem so much as an inconvenience.

This is the way I live.  I do not feel excitement.  My joy is menial and rehearsed.  I do not know the life you know.  I do not know the strides and the success and growth you have achieved.  I do not recognize them.  I do not understand them.  I fear them.

My life began the day I met you.  And I’ve been living my life as moments since I met you.  I wonder if there’s even been one day I have not thought of you.

How can it be that the closest I’ve felt to being alive was being with you?  What did you really offer me?  What was it about you that has made me so aware of my vulnerability to myself?  Life just keeps going and I can’t make it stop.  Every day you fade further and further away.  My life is fading.

Maybe you have nothing at all to do with this.  Maybe I have nothing at all to do with this.  I don’t even care.  I just want to know myself.  I want to know what you know.  I want to not be afraid anymore, of who I am and what I am capable of, and what I am incapable of.  I just want to know that my place in this world is warranted.  I don’t want to continue living if only for the few who would be sad.  I want to know more than that.

Life, bi-polar.

Life is such a rollercoaster.  One day everything is going steady, and the next I’m shot skyrocketing into happiness.  Without a warning, I’m then plunged into the lowest of lows.  I’m thrown up and down and tossed around until I just can’t take even another second of life.

I feel like vomiting.

But apart from life being a rollercoaster, I do have some things that keep me stable.  Keep me grounded.  I have my kittens, for starters!  No matter how mad or angry or visibly frustrated I get, all it takes is their sweet little faces–a chirp, a meow, and a roll on the floor–to swoon me out of the worst of moods into something of a bout of cheer.  My girls are very forgiving of my fierce temper.  It also helps to come home from work everyday to the same kitten waiting for me on my runners at the door.  And her sister is never far off, running and chirping in panic as though she is missing something important.  (Probably not me so much as the prospect of seeing the world outside my apartment!)

But then again, this is the same cat who always finds her way into my lap, softly purring, everytime I bellow along with a sad song on my mp3.  What a blessing.  Both of them.

I also have this new tea set–

Tea time~

How zen!  I’ve been redecorating my living room lately to reflect that of an east asian home.  I have a few things done already, but what I’m really excited for is my faux tatami mats I’m looking into having made, and my kotatsu.  Okay, okay, my glorified coffee table!

I can’t wait for a cool summer day, to open my windows (and maybe have some chimes to blow in the breeze), sit at my coffee table with freshly baked muffins or pudding, have my tea all set out, and enjoy a good replay of Okami.  What a day!!  I’ve envisioned it, it will happen.

But sure as Sherlock, the following day I will fumble and fail and take myself for another spin on that dreaded rollercoaster!

Maybe if it’s not too late, my resolution for 2013 will be to always remember that no matter what happens in my life outside this living room, within it I will always have the safety and comfort of two precious little kittens and a steaming cup of tea!  (And a good video game, of course!!)

Chapter anew.

I still think about you a lot.  Maybe no more than usual.  Certainly no less.

It’s different though, lately.  My thoughts are unclear.  Uncoordinated.  I don’t really know where to place my feelings or what to make of them.  I’m hesitant to really continue feeling anything at all.  We’ve been apart for so long now.  I haven’t seen you for so long.  Everything feels like a blurry dream.  I feel so much like you never even existed.

Every day we grow further and further apart.  My heart is still in this for you, but I can’t feel yours anymore.  I don’t feel any remnants of a connection with you.  I’m not idealizing your thoughts or rationalizing your actions.  You are missing.

I know that I miss you.  I know that I want to find some part of you in this world again.  But…

I fear that the innocence we shared will never return, even if someday you do.  I can’t continue to allow myself to wait for something that has faded into memory.  You have forgotten me, as time has told me, and now I choose to pursue the same path.

I will forget you too someday.  I’ve learned too much about myself from you and what it means to truly love someone to ever forget entirely, but it’s time to let our brief chapter together in this life finally turn it’s last page.

“When people walk away from you, let them go.  Your destiny is never tied to someone who leaves you.  And it doesn’t make them bad people, it just means that their part in your story is over.”

I really do love you.  I love you for everything that you are, with everything that I know.  And I hope that someday when the tears come to find you, you remember that you turned your back on me.  Even long after you left, I never turned my back on you.

Those whom children bond with.

I feel a child is both the most naive and intelligent of all people.  A child’s trust is not hard to earn, but it is also not hard to lose.  Children will look at your soul.  They will see all your actions and praises and misgivings deliberately.  When you are a child, you don’t weigh the stresses and emotions that play into a person’s demeanour, you just see it for what it is.

Those whom children bond with are those who provide sustenance in life, love, and learning more so than any other.  They are someone who has witnessed you at every stage of life and every turn of fortune.  They know you, and they know you on a deeper level than that which you can even contemplate sharing.

I feel like I don’t have anyone like that.  I feel like I am detached from most people in my life, because no one really understands me the way a childhood companion would.  Who do I look back towards fondly?  Who do I relate my experiences with?  I haven’t grown next to anyone.  I’m always branching further away in my own direction.

Children are lucky.  They get to network and learn and thrive.  They get to make mistakes, take chances, and fail.  They get to grow into a world that’s devastatingly hard to handle, but they get to share that burden intimately with a safety net of people familiar to their cause.

As good a childhood as I experienced, there’s a part of me that lends myself to the notion that a childhood is what I never had.

I am not an unhappy person.

I really truly am not.  I just have a negative and hypersensitive reaction to most anything that happens in my life, and any feeling that I experience.  Somehow people confuse these things.

I guess if you were on the outside looking in, you might say I were unhappy.  You would see me up late every night being unproductive (i.e. avoiding laundry, dishes, shopping, etc.) and then get up as early as 4am to start getting ready for work.  You would watch my perplexing way of being the friendliest impersonable person to all my customers.  You would see them smile as I avert my eyes, eager for the line to move along.

You follow behind as I walk back home, curious as to at what point my glowing personality faded back into an exhausted and uncertain, forlorn type of character.

I get home and lift my kittens from the ground, snuggling and loving and ensuring they’ve had their fill after a day spent alone.  And I wonder.  Why can’t I just have that?  Why isn’t there someone I can depend on coming home to me and making me feel… wanted.

I’m hopeless, really.  But I’m not unhappy.  I’m just lonely.  I admit that I need someone to make me feel whole.  Despite what everyone likes to think, don’t we all?