The game

I lost The Game.

Well, I had to get you back somehow for all of my suffering. That's pretty much the extent of my revenge, though. I almost feel sorry for all my readers who are going to lose The Game just because of this silly post. Then again, this sort of thing is truly unexpected on this sort of blog, so do I earn brownie points for that?

This lightheartedness is really wearing me down but, again, I'll deal with that in a few days. This isn't a game to me, but I'll go ahead and have my fun for now. It's better than dwelling on how helpless I am.

Who is there

I'm there for other people. I'm telling them not to commit suicide. I'm urging them to talk to people. I relate to them that depression is hard to overcome, and there is no one perfect way to recover from it. I prompt them to accept their feelings, like I've accepted mine, but to not use them as motivation to kill themselves.

Other people are there for me. They also give me reasons not to die. They offer to talk to me if I ever need to discuss my feelings and situation with them. A lot of them say to stay strong, not really knowing that I'm already weak and intend to stay weak, but I know they mean well. Most of them only know how depression works on the surface, and I almost don't want them to understand how it works deep inside.

I keep lying to myself and saying that you're there. Honestly, you abandoned me. You know better than to do that; you stayed with me at first, and you've stayed with others to support them. But I scared you out of your wits, and the situation seems to most like it has passed the point of recovery. I still have hope to fix this all. You'll be there in less than a week. I hope what I say sinks past your fear and into your heart.

What's ours is mine

I told one of our mutual friends that I think about you in many of the things I do. He said to make those things my own. I think I've begun to do that. When I watch our favorite YouTubers, I watch them because they make me happy. When I take pictures of my family like you'd often be forced to do, I remind myself that they are my family. When I watch TV series and movies, I keep in mind that I am enjoying the show. Anime was always more my passion than yours, so watching anime is easily my thing, no emphasis required.

On the flip side, I'm not going to lie and say that they are only mine. I do occasionally remember how we used to do these things together, and I wish we were still doing it together. But that isn't the primary thought in my mind, at least not while I'm actually doing those things. While I'm enjoying myself, those thoughts of us being together aren't regretful but hopeful. We'll do this again someday. It'll all be fine, and we'll be best friends again. And you still won't want to watch anime with me, but I'll just do that on my own.

While I'm making our things mine, I'll play Final Fantasy VII all the way through. You aren't holding me back in Midgar anymore with your plea, "Don't play any further than I have!" No matter how much you roleplay FFVII, that game and its lore are going to be my experience. The flip side to this? I'm looking forward to roleplaying it with you again... you'll like that, too.

Blogging

A new friend of mine told me that she'd like to blog as well. I think, similar to this blog, it'd be a vent. She's posted some well-woven words on her G+ profile. She asked me to impart blogging knowledge to her (which I didn't really consider myself having) so this post will be a reflection on what I do on this blog.

Subject

Tell Her Before I Die is about a person whose struggle with depression is alleviated by communicating to a particular woman, though that woman refuses to respond. The posts, thus, have to do with that struggle or with that woman.

Fictionality

This blog is nonfictional. Nothing that is posted here will ever be fictional.

Presentation

I present my blog as a digital collection of unsent or open letters. You may notice that the gadget that connects to my G+ profile is identified with "Yours truly," as if it were my signature on these letters. I do recognize the letters as part of a blog, though.

Addressal

The second person, or the reader, in my posts is assumed to be the woman that the person wants to communicate with. The person is referred to in the first person as the author. Except for celebrities, other people are addressed by their relation to the person and the woman rather than by name. These rules don't apply to other elements of my blog, though. For example, the Suicide & Self-Harm Prevention box is addressed to the internet at large.

Language

My blog is written in American English. The mood of the language used ranges from casual to romantic.

Patterns

• I update the blog twice daily.
• A post title's only capitalized letter is the first letter. The titles follow proper grammar rules for capitalization. The titles lack ending punctuation (periods, exclamation marks, question marks).
• In terms of HTML, I adhere to HTML5 standards. I place my content in an article element. That element's ID starts with the letter a followed by the date and daily post number, in the format of aDD-MM-YY-#.

Tendencies

• I often end my posts with a closing thought, normally only a sentence long.
• My posts usually consist of some paragraphs of prose in mostly-plain text, with some italics for emphasis. This post and my Valentine post are examples of deviations from that.
• The post titles are usually a phrase or sentence that summarizes the post.

Someone wanting to blog should consider what their blog's subject, fictionality, presentation, addressal, language, patterns, and tendencies will be. Those are the essence of a blog, as far as I can tell. I wonder if you would want to run a blog?

Light-hearted approach

You know, I never got to share my wide variety of music loves with you. You usually want to listen just to the music you already have. So I have no idea whether you'd enjoy this electro playlist I have on. For all I know, maybe an ulterior motive to this restraining order business is so you don't have to listen to music with me? Last time we listened to music together, I was crying and whimpering about so many of them. If you were listening to my music, maybe you'd be crying and whimpering to let your ears stop bleeding! X3

By the way, couldn't you have picked a different court date? I have to postpone my dental appointment due to your inconsideration, jeez. I rather fancy my dentist, you know. I'm not sure you would, given how insecure you are about your teeth... how do you treat your dentist, anyway? o.O

Okay, there is one thing very serious that I need to ask you about. Your sister stopped talking to me. I really need her to talk to me again, because I'm gonna die if I don't get more episodes of Game of Thrones. Gotta get the goods from her! Gotta see more of my favorite characters die I guess ;~; it's addicting.

Welp, hope your night is going well! And I hope you get BBC America over in New York, because Doctor Who is starting back up in Autumn~ Talk to ya sometime!

It isn't quite going back

For a while now, I've been going back through the Liked videos on my YouTube account and listening to the music. It's 3,248 videos long right now, and I'm on video 3,110. I can relate to some songs in ways I didn't understand before. Other songs help to distract me. The songs at this point are ones I knew long before I knew you.

I hope that listening to these songs can help me pretend that I never met you. Of course meeting you was a good thing. It was the best thing in our lives; I did put you together with her, after all. But right now it is not a good thing for me. The days when I didn't know you were the days when I could live without you, so I'll pretend that I'm in those times. Or, I'll pretend that nothing has changed since those times.

Music is truly my escape now, it seems.

Skip

The best thing I could think of happening to me right now is becoming unconscious until you speak to me. Hand me a poison apple or spinning wheel, please. Just let me sleep until you come to me. I don't want to go through this suffering. I don't want to die, either, because then I couldn't speak to you. I would lay limp and unthinking for years if it meant I could wake up to you. I would waste all of my life to avoid my suffering until you speak to me.

But there's no way that can happen. Most likely, I'm going to suffer. I can't decide whether I'm scared to suffer. Maybe I'm afraid of losing hope. Right now I want to live, but I'm afraid of losing that desire. So I'd rather be unconscious, so it'd be impossible for me to contemplate suicide. I'm scared of the possibility that I'll think it best to die again.

Hump day

Wednesday is Hump Day! Smack in the middle of the work week, it's the day that the ire of school students and full-time employees peak. After that, they start looking forward to the upcoming weekend. So, if you were to graph the ire, the graph would look like a hump.

I've decided to start celebrating Hump Day on my G+ profile. How to do that? One way is to post camels, the patron creature of humps! Besides Quasimodo, that is. The other way is to consider humping, or pelvic thrusting, and post something sexy. I'm doing more of the latter, particularly in defiance of the recognition of Sexual Sunday. I did get two camels in there, though. It may surprise you to know that one of those camels also fit in that second category of posts. Oh, furries~

You never actively look for NSFW images; you're the text type, reading fanfic galore. But you always appreciated those images with me when I came across them. I bet you'd like the eyecandy that's on my profile today. I'll add Quasimodo in a bit.

I hope you've had a good week. Look forward to the weekend!

I reveal so much

I said that I'd start lying to myself, but I have been having trouble starting to do so again. In my room, I don't bother to chase away thoughts of you. With my family, it's hard not to show how frustrated and downtrodden I am. In public, I can only give a courtesy smile for some seconds. Whenever I talk to our friends, I can't help but fawn over you. I admit to them, "I need her to reach back out to me." And they're put in such an awkward position, knowing how much I need you but not wanting to take a particular side. There shouldn't be sides to begin with, but of course they've developed.

I think I actually care about breaking further. I don't want to shatter by lying to myself. I'm so selfish that I'd rather bring everyone else down. Well, at least I haven't overwhelmed them like I did to you. Then again, I couldn't possibly open up to them like I did to you. On top of that, I won't ever allow myself to let my emotions all torrent out, unfettered and unrestrained, again. Nobody should have to deal with that.

I never would have thought that the solution would be to tell the world, to be honest. I always thought that these deep afflictions are something to be shared with a trusted and loved few. I know now that this thinking is wrong. I'll talk to many people and tell them just enough. When I can care again, I'll be so grateful that they have been there for me.

And what about them

I want this to be just about you and me. But, to begin with, she is involved. That's not as much of a problem as I made it out to be when I broke up with you. Next, your family is involved. They like me, but they're as scared of this situation as I am. Our friends are involved; I'm glad that they care about us equally and want the best for both of us. Finally, there's those strangers who tell you to stay far away...

I've always known that it isn't only you and me. Obviously, that's why I let you be with her. I'm never going to delude myself into thinking that I can be everything for you. But, just in the matter of speaking to each other... that should be between between you and me. I know you still want to talk. So, let's talk as soon as possible. Please don't let me suffer for so long.

You would like those things

When I'm doing all these things to distract myself, I keep thinking about how much you'd enjoy them. Listening to a piano and violin cover of a Mass Effect 3 song. Watching Sauron's mace being forged. Hell, even celebrating my grandmother's birthday, I thought you'd have fun spending time with us. Not sure if the cake would have been too spongy for you.

The moment those thoughts turn into regret, I lie to myself again. I make myself enjoy it. I convince myself that we'll be doing these things together again, even though I have no idea. Everyone else is happy as long as I've got this grin on my face and laughs coming from my throat. If you were talking to me, I'm sure you'd be happy that I'm enjoying myself. But, if you were talking to me, I probably wouldn't have to be lying in the first place.

I'm just so happy when we do things together. I can hardly wait to do that again. Literally.

Lying again

I'm going to lie to myself again for the next week and a half. There's nothing I can do here without you, so I might as well pretend that there's nothing wrong. I'll drown out my thoughts with fibs and distractions. It doesn't matter if that makes me crack more. You'll help to fix me.

I'll keep posting honestly here. I'm sure that I'll have even more to say as I chip away. More than that, I don't want to die before I can talk to you. Posting here convinces me stay. These lies are only to get me through my days without bringing everyone around me down. They really don't deserve that, when they can't even do anything to help me up.

What can be said

In less than two weeks, I'll be talking with you. In front of a judge, yes. Still talking with you, more than doing this blog is. I don't intend to act. I'm just going to be what I am. And I do expect the whole room to be filled with the vibration of my emptiness.

I keep thinking, hoping, and dreading. What am I going to say? I want the judge not to grant the restraining order. And I want you to reach back out to me and talk to me. What will I say to make that happen? On top of that, I have no idea what you're going to say. I have no idea if I'm going to cry. I don't even want to think about if you keep me away from you. I can't bear to think about that. If that happens, I'll have to burden so many people to stay where I am.

And, if you do reach back out to me? What will I say to convince you to hold my hand? I can't even begin to think about that. If I plan for that and it turns out that you won't reach out in the first place, I'll be even more crushed. Not going to push that far into the future.

When I speak, I hope everyone listens.

I honestly forget

Sometimes I realize that there is a certain thing that I want to say to you. But I put off posting it here. I start listening to music, reading G+ posts, and watching videos. In the process of all that, I forget what I was wanting to say.

I've said to you, "If you don't remember it then it mustn't have been so important." I'm not sure that's true. Being able to put my feelings into words is very important, both for my wellbeing and your understanding. I think it may be the fact that I don't care about myself anymore. The concepts and words I found slip away because I've discredited myself. I'm not important, so these things I want to say about myself aren't important, and they disappear.

Forgetting what I want to say isn't even forgetting about you. So, even if forgetting about you is a good thing, forgetting my words is no progression. When everything is quiet, the helplessness of being unable to express myself punches in. The emptiness of a person with no words sinks in. The desperation to escape...

Please, never forget about me. Come back. I need your help.

Are we having fun yet

Why not follow up my previous song-referencing post with another one? Yeah, yeah, do you get this reference? Heheh.

Today, Markiplier streamed for a depression & bipolar disorder charity. I heard about that yesterday, through a video he titled A Rough Day. He played Super Mario World for a few hours. Unfortunately, he was very ill, so he ended the stream after only three hours... but the fundraising goal was nicely surpassed. I came into the stream about halfway through, but regardless I loved watching what hilarity and intensity I caught. My mom watched a few minutes with me. I told a certain friend about it and he caught less than half of it. I asked him to tell you about the stream.

Did you catch it? Did you enjoy it? If things were all right, I could have told you myself, and I would know how much you enjoyed it. We probably would have watched it together. You like Markiplier more than I do, so I'm sure you watched if you could. Of course, you liking him more isn't why I thought of telling you about the stream; you're just always on my mind.

You want to feel okay. I know that. I want you to feel okay. I always hope that you're enjoying yourself and what you have. For myself, I just want to stay around. Feeling okay by watching that stream, watching videos, listening to music, and talking to people helps me. Yes, there are moments that I can't ignore my emptiness. But having fun is a good way to prepare myself for those moments.

Surely we'll have fun together again.

My bestest friend ever

Throughout my life, I never had that best friend some people have. I never really stuck close to one friend. For 17 years, I couldn't name a favorite friend.

From the moment we met, I liked you so much. When you started at my school, we clicked instantly. In a matter of days, I fell in love with you. You fell right back in love with me. Throughout the years of our relationship, I told you that you were more to me than just my girlfriend. My affection for you is all-encompassing: I loved you as a sibling, woman, friend, parent, child... everything.

The one thing I failed to recognize was that you are my best friend. Because I never understood what a best friend was, I didn't even consider it. You asked me during our last weekend seeing each other whether I had ever had a best friend, and I told you that I hadn't. You said that's why I couldn't understand why you wouldn't cut her off. Now that I recognize that you are my best friend, I do completely understand. I cannot cut you off. You came into my life, and you will always be a part of it. And I know that I'm a part of your life, too.

Since we're here in each others' lives... I will do my best to make this presence a good thing. For my best friend.

I was wrong and just can't live without you

Yes, that title is a reference. The full song really is something you don't get from the Swiffer commercials. I've been tempted to throw away money to distract myself, like the first lines of the song suggest, but I haven't. There's a lot of free ways to do that which weren't available in the late 70s. Big thank-you to the internet right there.

I just wanted to make one thing clear: how I was wrong. I forced you to choose between me and your best friend. I wasn't even genuinely saking, I only wanted to test your loyalty. I thought I could teach you a lesson about loyalty by breaking up with you. I was arrogant, thinking that I needed to give you that lesson, that I was strong enough to teach it. You know, I didn't really think about how this would end. I figured we could continue to be friends, but I was under the illusion that I never wanted to be with you again. The biggest sign that I was lying to myself should have been that I completely stopped listening to music. You know how much I love music. I was not being myself; I was trying to be strong.

So many songs have said, "I'll die without you." I never took them as seriously as I do now, having thought that over and over. So keep me in your heart, so that I don't die.

Keep being

Depression saps our motivation to do what we love. Part of it is that we can't enjoy those lovely things to the same extent, nor for as long. Another part is, why bother trying to be happy? We know that we're sad, so why try to fight it? But not doing anything will worsen things as much as trying to do everything. We need to keep doing something; when we have an urge to do something positive or inconsequential, we should give it a shot.

Every day, I have to tell myself not to just stay in bed. I will do all of these things today because I'm responsible for it all. I want to be responsible because fulfilling my responsibilities gets me through the day. I want to get through the day because each day passed is a day closer to seeing you again. Seeing and speaking to you again is what I'm living for.

So all we can do right now is keep being. Taking action is part of being, but our actions should reflect who we really are. We can't let other people control us, but we should think critically about their suggestions and how following them will affect lives. That goes for people whether they're depressed or not. But, for the depressed people who want to become nothing, being what we are is especially important.

In time

We don't necessarily move through time. Time moves past us, its current pushing events toward and away from us. People are moving through time when they move with the current and dwell on the past, or when they move against the current and contemplate the future. When people think in the present, taking it day by day, they're staying still while time flows by. It's easy to slip into the past, a challenge to stay in the present, and difficult to run toward the future.

I've said that I'm not going to be strong anymore. Being strong and rushing into the future ruined me, and it'll continue to destroy me if I'm impatient. I float around from past to present, staying weak. Maybe another person can handle gambling into the future, but I'll limit my risks. In time, the future will come, and this present will have long passed. I shouldn't push for a future where we're able to talk; I need to stay put and let that come to us.

Late at night

I usually post my second message of the day quite late at night. Sometimes I'm right up against midnight, posting in the last seconds of the day. If I were sending you these messages personally, you wouldn't be reading them until morning because you try to be in bed by 10. You have one of your recorded shows droning on while you've fallen fast asleep to it. The fan rattles as it circulates air around your room. You're resting soundlessly underneath the blanket I lent you. Your cat is probably at the foot of your bed.

If we were together right now, I'd be staying up and waiting for you to fall into deep sleep. I've taken to watching Orion's League of Legends videos, so you'd be listening to that instead of to your TV. I'd finish watching a video, turn off the fan, shut down the computer, and carefully slip into bed with you. You'd probably sort of wake up, because I can never get into your tiny, worn bed without disturbing you. Even more likely if you aren't sleeping next to the wall; I have to carefully crawl over your body, shimmy between you and the wall, and maneuver underneath the covers. But you'd be too lazy and half-asleep to want to have everything turned back on. You'd fall asleep again in a matter of minutes, and in the morning you wouldn't even remember that you were disturbed.

I hope every night that you're sleeping soundly. I pray every night for your peace. And I remember every night how much I love you.

Writing it out is now nothing new

Writing that response statement doesn't really feel any different from writing other things. With the obvious exception of research papers. Actually, it was much like writing on this blog. I just told it how it is, though as it's a serious document it had to be written without much poetic language. Writing about the relevant events was also offered me a good time to reflect on how this all happened. It's always easier to handle a situation when you know how you got into it.

I noticed that your statement wasn't completely true, even though you signed it under penalty of perjury. I don't know what will happen because of that. I hope it's nothing very bad. I don't want this to bite you in the ass, because it isn't our fault. I want everything to be okay. So don't lie anymore to anyone about this. Especially don't lie to yourself.

This grinds on

I officially can't speak to you. You could choose now to tell me whatever you like, and I could not legally respond. I don't think that you'll do that, though. This lasts for a few weeks, then a judge gets to decide how much more time to implement. I was given these court papers today, when I'd been thinking yesterday that a simple conversation between us could fix everything. Too late for a conversation now.

How this grinds on... precious time is wasting away. Tense feelings are lingering. Every day I'm suffering, and I'm praying that you aren't suffering as badly. I have a lot of trouble imagining that I'm on your mind as much as you are on mine. And I'd like to think, despite the things I've heard from people, that a good deal of those thoughts are lovely memories.

I'll stay right here, weak and empty, as I continue to endure every day without you. Depressing thoughts continue to grind into my consciousness, but I'll bear them for you. And, of course, I will turn wherever I can, so that I can make it to the day that we can be friends.

Singing loneliness away

One thing that's been bothering me lately is that I want to talk to other people but I don't much anything to say that isn't about you. Sometimes I forget to talk to people for that reason. I don't have the urge to scream or cry, but I've left myself seething with lonely and worried thoughts. I've noticed myself listening to these songs and singing whatever I remember of their lyrics. Yes, I take a painful amount of creative license. I get too lazy on high notes, and my voice breaks. I replace and slur forgotten lyrics. But I'm not singing for anyone but myself, so that doesn't matter.

I find that doing this helps me deal with being unable to talk. My vocal chords are vibrating, and I'm telling a story. They're not always my story, but I don't mind that because it distracts me. And, even though I'm not singing to anyone, I don't feel as alone when I sing along with the music. I'll chalk that up to distraction again.

You do it, too. With your cute voice low, when you think nobody's listening, you mumble lyrics in tune. You hate being alone; do you feel this same way when you sing, then? You are never courageous enough to all-out sing in front of me, though I sing along to some songs when we're together. I can imagine you humming along to something now, and that makes me smile.

We don't really know

When we think we know something, it's based on what we experience. Sometimes it's only what we experienced long ago. Sometimes it's only what we're experiencing in the moment. We'll never really know each other, and we'll never really know ourselves. But you especially don't know me right now. You don't know how sorry I am for letting my feelings all spill out. You don't know how much I want to make you happy and proud to be with me. You don't know how much I want you to be safe and sound. How you see me now isn't quite what I am.

I'll give you a lifetime to understand who I am. Just let someone tell you before I die.

It's not our fault

You know what I just realized? It's not our fault that this happened to us. When I broke up with you, society had told me that men must be strong and definitive. When you stopped talking to me, a figure of authority had told you to. Since we didn't know any better, we followed through. We were upset, lost, and unable to think. Now that I've had all these months to think, I realize that it was wrong to force us apart. I can only hope and pray that you'll soon realize that, too.

What's keeping me going is a part of me holding on to a part of you, these parts that long to be together. These parts are faultless. They are our love.

Nice things

Good days are days when I think nice things about you. They're days when I remember your smile and your caress. Days when I remember feeling you in my arms. When I remember how happy we could be. I remember that, if I keep going, we can have all of that again. I tell myself that you'll see everything that I want you to see. Someday I'll wake up in the morning and you'll be there again. Maybe that day one of us will try to convince the other that we should wake up, but within minutes we'll both give in to the desire to stay under covers. When we finally get up, we'll make breakfast together even if it's after noon. French toast sounds delicious. I'll show you how methodically my mom makes it. I'll want to limit the butter we use in the pan, but you'll easily convince me to use a good helping of it. We won't think about who will do the dishes afterward, just claim our food and our drinks and sit down to watch a show we like. We can spend our day doing nothing special but being together, or I can take you wherever you want. In the evening, I won't want to leave you, so I'll keep you in my heart, thoughts, and dreams.

I can't wait for you to read these things. They're such nice things.

Shamrock shakes

The only things I ever order from McDonald's are McFlurries and shamrock shakes. And guess what? Shamrock shakes are already back this year. You know, as much as I have come to dislike McDonald's, I think I'll always love shamrock shakes! So I'd love to take you to the McD's by your house for a casual meal. Except you'd be the one having actual food, I'd just be having s large shamrock shake.

Maybe we can go to McDonald's together this year before they stop selling shamrock shakes? If we don't get around to that, we can always go another time and I'll nom up a McFlurry. I'm always looking forward to being with you again~

Building bridges versus digging moats

I've built many bridges since I last saw you. It helps me and it helps the people who care about me. I talk to as many people I can not only to share my burden with them but also so they can feel good for helping me. In fact, if I could have, I wouldn't have spoken to anyone but you. The reason I've been talking is mostly so that other people can be happy. Yes, it does help me, but that wasn't my motivation.

You've been digging moats. This isn't a battle, but treating it like so is dangerous. I even had the idea in my head at a point that I was a threat to you, because I'd been that swept up in the war zone mentality. So many people around you are affected by the idea that I should be kept away. It's hurting everyone, and I wish I could reassure you that this should just stop. I talked to your sister, and she got overwhelmed by the situation too. It's not fair to her or anyone involved that this one-sided war is being waged. Any time soon would be a good time to stop being scared.

Bridges are beautiful and positive things. There are unsure rope bridges that span huge chasms, but in the end they will likely hold up and help you. There are small and sturdy bridges across small gaps between land that make something pleasant even more so. Moats are less admirable and more negative things. They keep things out, threatening them with their depths. It is tiring to cross them without a lovely bridge. And once the moat is filled with dangerous animals, it only causes frustration and despair. This all goes in literal and non-literal ways. Those animals are noncommunication, and you've let those loose in the moats you and others have hastily dug.

Let's build bridges together sometime soon. You'll see that it will help everyone.

Valentine

Big Mac is red;
the TARDIS is blue.
I have something to say,
something deep to tell you.

Like House, I've been hobbling,
questioning everything.
And I'll never forget
how you make my heart sing.

Redstone is red.
What I made with you
was never quite perfect
but wonderful to do.

A flick of a wand,
hand symbols, a shout;
there's magic between us
I can't live without.

Aerith's jacket is red;
Zack's eyes are blue.
I'll become a hero,
if only to you.

Keyblades open most locks.
One opens the heart,
but you don't need that;
mine was yours from the start.

Blushes are pink,
like Pinkie Pie is.
When I've gone mad,
drag me back with a kiss.

You've been my companion
through much space and time.
Your meaning to me
is much more than this rhyme.

Roses are red;
violets are blue.
Let's start this again:
I'd like to dance with you.

I couldn't kill it

I've been thinking about what I really am. Obviously, I'll never understand exactly what I am, just like nobody else will. But, mainly, I've been clearing up to myself what I am to you. When I speak to you, I am a burden. When you ignore me, I'm a wreck. When you threaten me, I think that I'm a threat. That last part, though... what am I really capable of, I've been asking myself?

I was so worried when I heard today that you hadn't come home after school. I was worried sick that you were completely gone or you were going to vanish. I was so glad when I was told that people know where you are and that you're okay. You're probably even enjoying yourself. I really hope that you're enjoying yourself, wherever you are. I hope you're only having happy thoughts about me. And, surely, you're with at least one other person, so I hope that you and anyone you're with are enjoying your time together.

Worrying about you that much let me know what I'm capable of. I would not destroy you. I could not eliminate our relationship. I don't even know anymore if I'm capable of suicide. I didn't realize what I actually am when I asked, "Do you want her to be safe, or do you want me to live?" I'm not the sort of threat that I could jeopardize your existence nor mine.

I am incapable of killing us in any way. I love you too much. Maybe I love myself too much. Perhaps I even love the people who support me too much. Is this part of my healing, to realize that I'm rendered so helpless by my love? People keep telling me to be strong, but I've been loathing that more and more. No, I am weak. I am human, and I'm vulnerable. That's what I've always needed to realize. I'm not strong enough to control you, not strong enough to determine my own death, not strong enough to make anyone listen, and I should never again think that I am strong. Strength doesn't come from me, and it was never meant to come from me.

That's it, then. No more being strong. I'm weak, vulnerable, and loving. I'm human. And, of course, I'm yours.

A lovely friday the 13th

I was just thinking about how today, Friday the 13th, is right before Valentine's Day. I wonder how many people delivered their Valentine's lines earlier to avoid bad luck, and how many are putting it off until the day of. I'm almost certain that SDUSD gave students Friday off just because it was the 13th. "Well, there's a small reason to do it, and not really a reason not to do it," I imagine someone shrugging while drawing up the proposal. "It makes the students happy, avoids a day at school some may dread, and provides more time for Valentine's plans."

I haven't been wary of Friday the 13th for a few years. Even if it were to actually bring bad luck, I can't think of any bad luck that I would care about very much right now. In fact, if any bad luck were to occur, now would sure the most convenient time for it. Or maybe this year's bad luck with be not having anything bad happen at all, to wait for a time when it'll hit me harder?

Nah, I seriously don't believe in the whole Friday the 13th superstition. Same goes for Jason Voorhees, but it's entertaining to consider him. I never did actually watch anything exclusively in the Friday the 13th franchise. I watched the Angry Video Game Nerd play an old Friday the 13th game, and you and I watched Freddy vs. Jason together. It'd be a favor if he came after me today, so I'd say I'm safe from that, too. People in horror movies are only killed when they want to live, right?

I hope you haven't had any bad luck today. Don't be paranoid. The only horrible thing about today is that it isn't tomorrow, right? Heheh, enjoy yourself until then!

Wishing for a well weekend

I wonder what you'll be doing from tomorrow to Monday. I'm still confused as to why you get Friday off, but it isn't a complaint. I wonder what you'll be doing. The obvious is playing videogames and watching YouTube videos. But which videogames, and which videos? It's not like I've just now started to care about these things. I've always cared to know a bit every time I casually messaged you and asked what you were doing. It's kind of unbelievable how much knowing those things actually makes me happy.

And, of course, it's Valentine's weekend. If we were currently together, we'd have dinner together on Valentine's Day. I'd tell you that I discovered a different Boudin bakery than our usual, and how I want to check that out. But you'd insist on going to the Old Spaghetti factory. And, after all that we've been through, I'd oblige. I did get money the past week, so gas and tab would be something I could easily afford. Since the glasses we got on our first anniversary were shattered through time, we'd get some cream sodas and keep the cups to replace them at your house. I have the second pair that we got still at my house, untouched.

Where else would we go, now that I'm so eager to take you places? Well, right after our dinner I'm sure you'd go to bed, you sleepy, silly fox. But we've got a whole weekend to enjoy ourselves, so where would we go? We could go hiking, just you and me. Mission Trails or Torrey Pines, which would you like to walk? We could have a picnic somewhere nice and green. Speaking of green, I'd just avoid making a salad with lettuce altogether. We have some other leaves growing in my back yard that I think you would be less picky about. We could visit Balboa Park during the day to check out museums and, ah yes, you wanted to go into the botanical garden! I honestly only have faint memories of being in that garden. I would love to make new memories there with you.

I would spend as much time with you as I could. I understand that you'd like to spend time alone with her, if she were available, and I would give you that. For the rest of the weekend, you would have me close to you. But, it seems that we'll be spending the weekend without each other. I'll just remember that, last I saw, you still had my first Valentine's gift to you on your desk: the glass teddy bear inside the heart-shaped box. I'll smile, and I want you to have a lovely weekend.

Wounds

I've been a bit of a jerk to the people around me. I think I've been letting my indifference to people combine with my frustration. The way I'm acting now kind of reminds me of the way I was throughout elementary and middle school. So, what is it? Now that I've been broken, is it my true self that's showing? Or is this some sort of scab that protects my wound while I heal back into the person I became? I feel like it's the latter; my true self was the person who showed you everything. Not someone who was out to get others, but someone who was deeply hurt with self-inflicted lies as wounds.

If the emotional and psychological wounds could manifest on my body, what would they look like? Would they be bruises, bone fractures, lashes, stabs? Let's start with the lies I made myself believe. I think an appropriate manifestation for those lies would be bleeding out of my mouth. I feel empty when I make those lies, after all, and they flow up from my gut and out through my mouth. The pain of knowing that there is someone else who you share a love with but that she can't love me? I'll assign that to bruises swelling under much of my skin. The guilt of thinking about you when you refuse to acknowledge me is like a pointed rod stabbed into my lung, leaving my breath shallow and discouraged.

Behind every hateful, insensitive, and terrible person is a wound that has not healed. If you saw me with those wounds, I'm sure you'd be scared out of your wits. Actually, you were scared out of your wits when I revealed what I was dealing with. So I wonder whether you would have been better off experiencing my hurt as you did, or seeing it on my body? I think that, had you seen me with physical wounds, it would have been more obvious that abandoning me is not the correct course of action. You would have probably taken me to a hospital and stayed by my side as much as you could. Maybe you're gone because you can't see how my state deteriorates without you, and how I heal when I feel that I'm with you.

Still holding back

There are so many things that I want to tell you. There are so many times when I want to be with you. But I can't say and do these things, because you're so easy to overwhelm. I understand, of course. If I'm overwhelmed, I can't expect another person to simply be able to cope with my problems. You always thought you could do just that, and I started to believe you. It's been a painful reminder that people never even know themselves completely.

It takes strength to hold back, to carry oneself on. What we're doing isn't easy. I'm not at all justifying that you're trying to abandon me, please understand that. But I know that it's hard to not know what to do, so you blindly put your trust in someone else. We both have done that.

That's okay. We're human. Humans have faults. Human perfection is imperfection. And I will always love you.

Carrying on

Today I felt strong. Maybe it's partly because I felt so weak yesterday, so I'm relatively strong today? Even though I do still feel bad, I also feel that I can come up with a plan. I was frustrated today, but I was thinking rather clearly. I'm coming to good conclusions about my thoughts for once in quite a while. I'm more confident in myself and in life today.

One thing that has definitely helped is talking to you here. Not only is there still that hope that you'll read this, but according to statistics each of my posts prior to this one at this time has been read at least once by someone. Like I've said before, other peoples' caring all adds up, and on good days like today that certainly means something. I wonder how many people are simply reading to support me, how many are reading to try to understand, and how many are reading because they relate. I especially wonder if there is anyone who eagerly awaits my twice-daily divulgences. I missed one post on the 9th, but that's okay because I said a lot in the post I did make.

I was delighted this evening by something you told someone. You commented to a YouTuber that she should name one of the dogs in her Minecraft miniseries after my long-deceased cat. It makes me smile that things I've shared with you come to mind when you're happy. I wonder now if you can't bear to talk to me because you can't bear to see me so absolutely depressed? Do you like to always think of the good, happy, fun times we had together? I'm sure that you could just wish all my pain away; everyone who loves me wishes that. You could start toward fulfilling that wish by speaking to me again, but it'll be a while until you can know that that was always the answer.

Some things you said

I love you, Neko. You're the most important person in the world to me. I will never give up. We could have stayed together!
I'm stubborn. Who cares what they think? They don't know what we're like. I don't want you to hurt, but I don't wanna get hurt either. We'll be the weirdest best friends ever. You should come see me when it's over.

Faith is not only put in gods

My mom has been telling me to put more faith into my situation. Trust in God's plan, pray, et cetera. In this depression, everything except you matters less to me, though. Then again, we are talking about God, who's kept me alive and successful all this time. Even if He matters less right now in my perception, I do pray every night. I thank Him for keeping me alive and for the people who are talking to me and helping me. I thank Him for keeping me strong and ask for continuing strength. And I ask Him to soothe you...

I think you have more faith now than that time when I had to suggest to you to pray, right? You were so stressed out and anxious that time. You felt that you didn't have many people to talk to. So, I told you to talk to God, because He'll always listen. Sometimes He even does things for you. Right now you're scared and unsure again, so I hope that you're still praying. I think you are, because the night before our last night seeing each other, you said, "I'll pray to God that I'm in your dreams." And, whenever I have dreams, there you are. I love seeing you in dreams, which are always so pleasant when you're there. In that way, it's much like real life for me, that your presence makes everything so much better; of course, dreams are as close as I can get right now.

Maybe you're praying for me just like I pray for you. That would be the best, wouldn't it? I actually have a lot of trouble falling asleep without praying, now. There is another request I always make, and it's a much heavier one: I beg for you to be my friend again. I beg that you'll be able to talk to me, hold me, and care for me like before. I've never asked much from God before, so now that I suddenly need so much I feel undeserving of it because I'm not so devout. I feel like I need to start giving God more of my time if I want Him to answer these kinds of prayers.

I don't really like to think about any plan God may have, because I don't expect to understand it. That and, again, it matters very little to me in comparison to you. I wonder exactly what you pray for, and whether God will act on your prayers. To be honest, this whole post I haven't even been thinking about God. I've just been thinking about you and about us. That's how it is, now; I hope you realize how special you are to me. Yes, right now you're more important than God to me.

Blame it on the rain

I've been finding songs with lyrics I can relate to lately. They all just happen to be years old. I plan to memorize the lyrics to all those songs, so I can do something that means something to me. There's this one with lyrics hit me particularly called Blame It on the Rain by Milli Vanilli.

You said you didn't need her. You told her goodbye. You sacrificed a good love to satisfy your pride.

Those are some of the first lines of the song. The rest of the words continue to speak directly to me. And the advice given in the main verse?

Whatever you do, don't put the blame on you.

If only. The best I can do right now is not think about my regret. The majority of my thoughts are about us. Through a combination of effort and luck many of those thoughts are about the good times we've had, the things I love about you, and how I'll continue to strive so that you'll talk to me again. I've been thinking about all the things I'll do for you. Like, why didn't I really ever sing to you? I'm a good vocalist, I love singing, and I love you, so why the hell not? I guess I just never thought you'd like to listen. There's so many things that I assumed I couldn't do or you wouldn't care about. I'm not going to think like that anymore, just do things I think would be nice and hope you appreciate it.

One thing about Blame It on the Rain, though, is that I don't quite like the vocal notes. If the tune were different, I could sing that song and really feel like it's for me. I'm trying to come up with a corruption to drive off some of the unicorns and rainbows. The first thing that has come to mind for inspiration is Nirvana. I'm trying to imagine how Nirvana would have covered the song, what tones would have come from Kurt Cobain's throat. Some parts of that image are pretty vivid for me, but I think I need to really dissect some Nirvana melodies to get anywhere. I'll be really happy when I can make Blame It on the Rain my song, if you can understand that.

Yeah, I know that Kurt Cobain committed suicide. I'm not idolizing him for that reason. According to his suicide letter, he took his life because he just couldn't care about what he did or about others at all, even though he knew that he (was supposed to have) loved them. I may feel very similar, but there is one very important difference: I will always care about you. I'd say that sets me very far apart from him. Then there's the lack of fame and fortune, but those are unimportant details! Heheh.

Let me sing Blame It on the Rain for you sometime, okay?

My dad visited

I saw my dad today after several years. He came to visit me with my cousins. You'd think that something like that would occupy my thoughts pretty completely. But, no, I was still thinking about you. I know you don't like what my dad did to my mom, but I wish you could have met him. You did say you wanted to meet him anyway, too. Then again, we were mostly speaking Spanish to each other, and I know how embarrassed you get when speaking Spanish. My family teased me a bit for my lack of slang knowledge, by the way. It would have been nice to have you there at that time, so I could be in the same boat as someone there. I did find out that my cousin doesn't like the word duro, which most Americans who've taken a Spanish class know means hard. She uses other words for hard that I don't remember right now. I guess it's like using the word mad instead of angry. Have you ever noticed that we do that? It's just a diction preference.

My dad asked about you. Well, I talk about you whenever he calls me, so of course he'd bring you up. He did know from the last time we phoned that I'd broken up with you. I explained to him how you aren't talking to me, and the legal threat. He told me to wait until you'd talk to me again... somehow, hearing it from him is so much more encouraging than hearing it from anyone else who's told me that. Some people are just much better at delivering advice than others, I guess. For example, he didn't tell me to get over you; he said that I'm young and that there is a person who I will love much more than anyone else. It's that subtlety and ambiguity that I liked, perhaps. I also find it interesting that he said that when I've never mentioned my desire for that to him. I hadn't thought about it lately, but I'm quite sure that I inherited being a dreamer from him.

Remember how you said that you'd like to visit Central America with me? I told you that you couldn't do it if you were so hesitant to speak Spanish, but you insisted. You just didn't want me to be countries away from me. I guess it won't be so hard to leave you in the US now. My dad says that he wouldn't want me to be there for more than a week, because it's dangerous. He says that my grandmother recovered from that illness I told you about. I told him that I'm planning to take some college courses online so that I can continue my studies while I visit.

Speaking of travel, you'll likely be in New York in a number of months. And that will be for much more than a week. Where's that girl who couldn't bear seeing me less than three days every week? Heheh. I guess that's still you, but you've gotten stronger. I'm so happy that you can stand on your own now. You may still need to get your legs more perfectly underneath you, but I'm glad that you're getting there. Keep going. I'll get up and be strong and honest like you, too.

Advice: good vs bad

Good Advice:

When you are depressed or upset, talk. Talk to your family. Talk to your friends. Talk to a psychologist. Talk on the internet. Talk on the phone. Talk on a help hotline. Don't be afraid to talk to yourself, but try to mostly say positive things out loud. Never burden only one person with your emotions and issues. Talking to many people allows you to not constantly or completely place an overwhelming burden on any one person.

When someone who is depressed or upset comes to you for support, talk. Don't leave that person alone. Suggest that the person should talk to others in addition to you. Help to connect that person with other people who will care. If this person is currently attempting to harm or kill anyone or anything, call your emergency telephone number (for example, 911 in the US and Canada) immediately. Never abandon this person.

Bad Advice:

When you are depressed or upset, remember that someone is always in a worse situation than you. Either get over your problem or at least cover it up until you forget about it. If you talk to someone else, they probably wouldn't understand or be able to help. Just keep your chin up; smiling all the time will make the people around you comfortable and help you get over being sad.

When someone who is depressed or upset comes to you for support, call your emergency telephone number immediately. It isn't your responsibility to take care of a sick person; just hand it off to the authorities. Your constant comfort is more important than what a sick person thinks is needed of you, so don't talk to that person and you won't be as stressed out. Avoid the other person in order to avoid being hurt by the other person. You can let family, friends, and even strangers keep the other person away from you, too. Only take care of yourself; the other person will get sorted out by someone who knows what they're doing.

My head hurts

When I remembered something negative before, I would often make a finger gun, point it at my head, and shoot. Two fingers, mind you; I needed the extra caliber to get rid of those memories. Sometimes I'd spontaneously sing something, anything, loudly. They usually weren't actual songs. They were usually words involving people dying and not caring put to some impromptu tune. It was like my way of yelling at those memories to go away, for negativity to bother someone who was in so much deeper than me. There are people dying, and people who don't care for the world, and I'm being bothered by a failed choir solo? That wasn't worth it.

Then I guess this is worth it. When I think about how I broke up with you, I can't find my finger gun, and there's no tune from my throat. I guess there's a big difference between being embarrassed and that mistake, big enough that it's not worth even letting loose an imaginary bullet nor a singsong dismissal. Maybe it's because I only had one moment to ace that solo, but I have our entire lifetimes to make up for my selfishness. There's no way to redo that performance, but every single moment is one during which I could be with you somehow. Maybe it's the fact that nobody ever told me that my screwup in front of the mic mattered, as opposed to the fact that I know that I've scarred you.

After I shot or I sang, it'd be gone for a while. I'd be who I was again, and not that mistake. It's not like I can't tell myself that breaking up with you wasn't a mistake. I did that for two months. Then I realized how huge of a lie I'd given you and myself, that I could let you go. I am that mistake of ripping us apart. And when I try to lie to myself now, I get a headache. I can live with headaches just fine, but these headaches mean something. They mean that I'm trying to forget who I am. You'd think that the headache is all the negative feelings that I try to suppress, but I don't feel it that way. That headache is my positivity, the part of me that has become happy and loves life. It's struggling and fighting to keep me up, as if trying to be happy with that lie is like standing on my head.

You won't speak to me

If you say that, I'm going to die. Don't ever say it. Never.

I'd hung up on you. I was alone, except for having you in my heart. And if you'd said that... I didn't want to think about exactly what you were going to say. I could walk to the shore and swim out to the deep waters, then let myself sink downward. Make myself lose my breath. Make myself die.

I wanted to stay alive. I sent you text after text telling you that you're the only thing keeping me alive. No response. A picture, to show you that I was holding on. No response. Two messages each day to let you know that I hadn't died. People near you are telling me not to contact you at all, or they'll involve the law. People who can't seem choose between helping me to live and tearing me away from you. People who, when forced to take one, would choose my death. People I don't care about when the only person I care about is you.

The only thing that keeps me alive is knowing that you care. That's why I'm making this blog. I can't contact you at all. But I can leave these messages here and tell myself that you will read it some day. I can tell myself that for a month. For a year. For a decade. For a century. I'm going to talk to you here, clinging to the thought that you'll read it eventually. Hoping that you'll respond someday, hoping that you'll see me and hold me someday.

This is the life of a person who's fighting to live for love. This will be here for anyone to understand, to care, to relate. Even when doubt creeps in, I'll stay strong for you. Because I need to be with you again.