Plenty of problems

Many people look around themselves and think, "Everything is okay, or at least normal." If we always thought that something is wrong, we'd be very stressed. I'm talking beyond pessimism, more along the lines of paranoia. I recognize that, most of my recent time, everything is okay and normal. It's too bad that I don't care for that more.

How good my life is won't be the subject of this message, though. I want to talk about how, truly, everything is not okay. I know many people with many problems. They may seem like normal people who are doing okay, but how they feel inside is not at all ideal. Some of them are managing their problems. Some of them are covering up and denying their problems. They're not well, but they are or they act okay enough to get through the day. I don't particularly expect these people to have been working with such difficulties, but then again it doesn't surprise me. Looks can be deceiving; a look at how I was before this year wouldn't suggest to most people that I would be in the state that I am in now. And if, as I believe, nobody can every fully know another person, then of course it's easy to miss what is bothering another person. Consider how long it took me to identify your deal with depression.

I recently opened up to another person face-to-face about my situation. It turns out that this person was dealing with depression and heartbreak as well, and had much to relate to me. Now this conversation is open between us, where I expected only to be briefing the other person on my depression. It's mind-boggling, what stays hidden. We can only hope to discover things about people that we can understand.

The bottom line is, problems are the norm. Problems are not an excuse to turn away, because turning away from every problem means turning away from the world entirely. That shouldn't be acceptable. It's okay to see the world in a rosey tint, but it isn't okay to ignore the dark spots. There's a good lot of them.

I just walked off

I mentioned before that I had a horrible realization about my grandpa. That unveiling kept on today. Yesterday I asked if I could take Good Friday off to go to church, and my grandpa got very skeptical of my intentions. I told him that I wanted to go to church to help myself spiritually. He thought I just wanted to skip out on work. I've told him many times that I don't want to go to work with him, but I do it to keep myself doing something. I legitimately think spending Good Friday in church could do me good, but he thought I was just giving up on work for that day.

He's an okay person, really. He's really anxious, though. He's always full of lots of emotions, aggravated by his situation (which is much worse than mine, from a neutral perspective). The horrible part is that he projects his feelings on other people and usually refuses to acknowledge that he's feeling angry or acting irrationally. He says that everyone else is angry, when he's the one raging. I've said many times that I cannot be angry, but he doesn't consider what I say. Even when I'm letting my melancholy twist my lips into a frown and my brows crease my forehead up, he can't see anything but his own fury on my face.

So he yelled at me today, like usual. He ignored what I said, like usual. He said that I should just make myself feel better, like usual. What he added, though, was that he needed an actual laborer. So then what the hell was I doing there? I walked away. I took the keys to his house and walked far away. I took a cab back to his house, took my car keys, left his keys at his house, and drove in my car back home. All that for the price of wasted time, $24.60, gas, and potentially my pay for the job. None of that matters to me, so all in all it was worth it.

I kept going to work so that I could be moving and become suitable for you. But being at work with my grandpa made me feel too many times like I'm so worthless and should die. That's not where I want to head. I don't care how much more difficult it will be for him, how much money he would have given me, what my family will think. I'm not willing to trade in what little stability I have, not willing to stray away from being good enough for you.

Caught singing

I can drive well. I can sing well. I can sing while driving well. Today I was driving with the windows down and Cecilia and the Satellite blasting from the radio. I came to a stoplight while singing the chorus in a tenor range, and I randomly looked to the left. In the adjacent car sat an older lady, and the her window was slightly lowered. She was smiling at me, having heard me. I grinned at her and looked away, not singing any further. Kind of embarrassing, but it was the kind of embarrassment that you immediately take lightly. So I kept smiling a little.

The lady lowered her window. She said to me that I sounded good. I looked to her with another smile and thanked her. Then I looked forward, continuing to smile. This time I wasn't embarrassed, and my smile felt more genuine and full to me. It made me pretty happy that this stranger had randomly encouraged me like that.

Somebody ended up hearing me, so I guess even singing to myself is communication. The exchange of glances and grins was funny, and receiving her compliment was pleasant. Communication is just a wonderful thing, even in the smallest bits, especially as it builds up like that.

Easily frustrated

I came to a point where I easily accepted that nobody could fully understand me. I accepted that people can say the wrong things. I shrugged off that some people refuse to listen.

Now, I'm hypersensitive about it. When I try to explain something and they just don't get it, I panic because I feel like I can never say what I mean. When they respond with all the wrong things, it's hard not to feel like they're attacking me. When they don't listen, I try to repeat what I said a few times. Then I turn around, sit down, and simply feel upset... if not physically, then at least in my mind.

This isn't just how I am about talking about my depression. My little brother suggested yesterday that, since I was hungry right before we left to the bay, I grab a donut. I yelled at him (partly because I was in another room), why would I eat something so unhealthy when I'm at the lowest weight that I've been in years!? I ended up eating a cream-filled sweetbread. I got frustrated too easily over a stupid little suggestion. I think that one example is enough.

Sometimes, I'm still apathetic. My grandpa gets frustrated that I'm texting my suicidal friend when I don't have a moment of respite on the job. I don't give a shit. I tried to explain my situation to him, and he still can't get off the fact that I'm texting. He even refused to answer whether or not he cared about my friend. Knowing that he cares more about a minute of work than for the life of my friend did make me extremely sad. It made me cry a little behind his back... I mentioned that previously. I'm not sure that was frustration as much as a horrible realization that brought those tears.

When they don't listen, I ramble on until I lose hope. So, it's a good sign when a message goes up here.

Long paths

We have long paths ahead of us. Yours is likely to be pretty pleasant and easy. Mine has been very uneven, much too thin at many points, with barren landscape surrounding me. I don't see that changing. But I know that the paths will cross, and I'll keep hiking along for that. Maybe my path will get better by that time, too. I can't rule that out.

On this path, I have to keep looking at the ground. Looking at the horizon is too intimidating. Looking around is pointless to me. I can't help but listen to anything that chatters in this devoid place. Those chatters can be support, distraction, something to get me by. But it can also be horribly debilitating. I can't help it. The only thing I can do is to not give up. I need to stay on this path, not lose myself. It doesn't even matter what the path is going to be become, or how long I will walk it alone, or even what it will be like when our paths join again.

I won't stare into the distance trying to figure that out. I'll watch the steps immediately ahead of me, just making sure to keep my balance as I travel.

With close support

Today I went walking at the bay again. This time, it was with my little brother and my mom. I always like to just listen to the ambience, but they listened to music the whole time. Still, I was able to chat with them a bit. The conversation was enjoyable, even though my brother's definitely lost some hearing for blasting music from his headphones. They didn't want to walk as long as I usually do, but we still walked quite a while and saw pretty things. My mom has now realized why I prefer walking in the evening/night to walking during the day: it's got a completely different aesthetic, and it's nice to avoid the sun beating down on you. My brother made me realize how horrible you get at jogging if you don't keep it up when your P.E. classes are done; we went for an extra little jog after the walk, and I could only actually jog for about half of it. There's this bridge we walked across with rails are also lamps, and it's pretty neat. Even though some of the lamps were out or flickering, and the homes nearby are unimpressive.

When we got home, my brother and I decided to watch 3 episodes of the first season of Pokémon. They only have the dub on Netflix, like they only have the sub of Digimon, but that's fine because nostalgia of course. He bets that I won't memorize the Pokérap by the end of the Indigo League. He's probably right, and I'm already discouraged actually, heh. It seems pointless when there's much more than 150 Pokémon now. Maybe I'll still give it a shot, though.

Meanwhile, you're apparently on Spring Break out-of-state. It's good to know that you're doing something outside the norm, too. I hope you're spending your break with people that support you. Communication is key, I've said many times now. Maybe your big sister is with you, for example? In that case, I hope that she's being chill right now. I'm sure you aren't mentioning Minecraft to her, because I don't believe you've played it in quite a while, so it's easy to avoid strife with her on that front. I hope you have a lot to talk about, and you're enjoying every word of your conversations. I also hope that you're very comfortable wherever you are.

What could you be thinking

One of the things that really tortures me is wondering what you think of me. Luckily, it doesn't come up much, but it really drives me into the ground when I think about it. I have no idea what you think of me, because you refuse to tell me. It's an unknown that rips savagely at me.

What I like to think is that you're still my friend. You're not there because you want to get better without me, and you think I'll get better without you. You aren't doing this to hurt me. You don't want to be stepping on my fingers as I hang from the ledge of persistence. You don't want me to be alternately void of feeling and flooded with sadness. You think this is the best for us, and so you've done it.

But what if that's all wrong? What if you really are trying to hurt me? The last time you saw me, you saw my continuing depression. What if you delighted in that? If this is your revenge for anything bad I've done to you, I can tell you that this pain must at least have equaled by now anything that I've caused. Maybe I deserve this punishment. But I don't want you to be enjoying my suffering. I don't want to think of you that way.

This last thought I think is the worst. What if I'm nothing to you but a crazy ex? What if you're not doing this to help yourself nor to punish me, you're doing this because you legitimately don't care about me? That's the most painful thing. The last time we made eye contact, you were so scared. I could only somberly appreciate the sight of you, while you did everything you could not to even look at me. I'll admit that I'm crazy, and of course I'm your ex. But I'm so much more than that. I've been so much more than that to you. To think that these events have caused me to be nothing but the past to you... it makes me want to more literally become nothing but the past...

The only way that I can see truly see value in myself is in your eyes, your embrace, and your words. I have none of that. So, I can only fantasize of seeing how much I really mean when we meet again. I only keep going for you and that day.

Got a hole in my soul

what doesn't kill you
makes you wish you were dead.

got a hole in my soul
growing deeper and deeper...

what doesn't destroy you
leaves you broken instead.

The words are lyrics excerpted from the song Drown as written by Oliver Sykes and Jordan Fish and as performed by the band Bring Me The Horizon.
The image on the left is limp hand by octopus-interphone.
The image on the right is widely distributed and seems to be in the public domain.
I only take credit for arranging these elements in the manner above.

Calf cramps and sleep sacrifice

As I've complained to you before, on cold nights I occasionally wake up to a cramp in my calf. It's very unpleasant. I was hit with that pain this morning and the previous, luckily not too intensely. The soreness afterward wasn't incapacitating, luckily, and I was able to work just fine. It's still annoying to feel sore, of course. And I could definitely go without the pain of getting the cramp in the first place.

I don't recall ever getting a cramp while sleeping with you. I do remember that I've gotten quite close. And I also remember that you woke up with a cramp once, and I did my best to massage and relieve you. My efforts paid off, and you weren't even sore later that morning. And that reminds me of the night that I stayed up for several hours changing wet, freezing cold towels to soothe the extremely sunburnt skin on your arms. Boy, that was a doozy. I'm also reminded of several nights when I was restless, and you decided to keep awake to give me your conscious company. We've sacrificed a good amount of sleep for each other.

Physically, I'm doing fine. I hope the same goes for you. And I hope your nights have been just pleasant.

We'll meet again

I saw that you posted that picture. I don't think you could be talking about anyone else but me. I wanted to say that I'm happy to see that. Just like when you paid attention to that turtle post or suggested my passed cat's name to a YouTuber, I feel so glad to be in your thoughts. It really helps. On top of that is the message itself: you'd like to see me again in the future. If I feel the same way, doesn't that mean we can take out the word "maybe"? We'll definitely see each other in the future, when you're ready.

This really reinforces my will to continue. It gives me enough hope to bear my suffering. Knowing that, somehow, you're still there for me... I can keep going.

Frayed

My veins
haven't been cut,
but my bonds to life
have frayed.

Incompatible perspective

I've been spending a lot of my time with my grandpa, since I've been working with him for the past two weeks. I haven't held a facade for him; that would be entirely too difficult. So, he's seen how apathetic and melancholy I am. He doesn't handle it very well. He thinks that my apathy is anger. He thinks that saying ridiculous things will cheer me up. He thinks that telling me about how he's gotten through problems in his life will convince me to just move on.

There's one huge difference between his experience and mine. He suffers from anxiety, and I suffer from depression. He is filled with various different emotions that he struggles to recognize and control. I'm mostly empty, with sadness being the most prevalent emotion I have. Everything is too important to him, but everything is hardly important to me. He needs to calm down, but I need to step up. He just can't understand what I'm feeling, even if he's had a similar issue to deal with. The advice he gives simply isn't right for me.

I cried behind his back today. Later, I cried in front of him, too. But, in the end, the crying was pointless. It didn't change anything. I didn't even feel better afterward. I felt too uncomfortable for crying to help in any way. I honestly never even considered that discomfort could deny the benefits of crying. I guess I know now, though.

I want to keep talking openly with people I am, or was, close with. But I feel sometimes that there isn't a point. So many of those people just don't get me, even if they could. They want to talk, but they don't say the right things. I feel the urge to isolate myself more and more, even though I know that's the wrong thing to do.

Still, even if I stop talking to those people, I will keep talking where I feel comfortable. I'll continue updating Tell Her Before I Die, posting #keepgoingforlove on Google+, talking to my therapist, and so on. I won't give in to my desire to disappear.

Talking about you

It's very easy to talk about you. I feel happy and relieved when I recount who you are and what we've done together. I'm sure that I could talk about you for days on end, pausing only to sleep. Sometimes I have trouble putting my thoughts into the right words and gestures, but I smile as I decide on how to express myself.

There are many reasons why I don't talk about you as much as I'd like, though. First, I have responsibilities that I'm expected to focus on. Lovely thoughts of you can overtake my mind, and I pretty much drop what I'm doing to enjoy them. Unfortunately for me, nobody wants to really talk about you with me. Even the people who don't want to see us apart can't hear me glorify you for very long, much less contribute adoration. When they manage to listen, I feel guilty that I'm spending time with them only talking about you, so I let the conversation move to somewhere else. Tell Her Before I Die, of course, is all about you, but sometimes it's difficult to bring myself to type a message.

This isn't because I have nothing to say. I have so, so, so much to say to you. But, even if you're not reading yet, I'm constantly worrying about how you will react to my words. My deepest feelings tear you apart, so I feel the need to not simply vent them out. When I have to stop and think about what you can take, I have trouble picking my words too. Often, I don't even know where I'll go with my message, just making myself type down what comes to mind after a bit of judgement. The backspace button has been well-used during the composition of these messages, you know.

I can't wait for the day when you'll be again able to listen to everything I have to say to you. Truly able, as my best friend.

Others care more

Today while I was working with my grandpa, a woman parked on the street. Her car was mostly in a 2-hour parking zone, but the back bumper was about a half-foot into a disabled parking zone. She was considering leaving the car parked where it was, risking a $600 ticket. My grandpa was pretty concerned about it, stopping all his work to talk (as he often does). He really didn't want her to be hit with that fine. The woman decided to just check in to the building that she needed to, then return shortly to find a parking spot she could fit in. Even as she walked off, my grandpa briefly continued voicing his concern. I told him that he shouldn't dwell on it because the woman had already made her decision. The woman was quick enough to avoid being written up.

Many people have been supporting me in my depression. They can make me smile, laugh, even love. But, as I've said before, being depressed means that I can't feel positive emotions as intensely or for as long. It's better to have those diminished positive feelings than to just be empty and sad, so I appreciate when people help me to feel well. However, they just can't cure my depression by making me happy, and I don't want them to think that they can. To try to fill the space you've left in me is something I don't see as possible or at least feasible. I don't love anyone as much as I love you. Nobody should be trying to make me move on from my depression, because they'll be wasting their time. They're not the cause, and they can't be the solution.

Finally, you don't care to let me know how you're doing at all. I sometimes get so anxious with not knowing how you recovering. I get so concerned with whether the people around you are helping you. I even worry about whether you're eating well or keeping up with your chores, things you don't care about yourself. Just like the other situations, though, the fact is that the decisions have been made and there isn't anything to do. I have to remind myself that it's a waste of time to obsess over your wellbeing, because there isn't a thing I can do to know how you are. You'll catch me up when you decide to.

They sing the words

A few weeks ago, I mentioned a YouTube playlist. I've been continuing to add songs as I realize that I relate so closely to them. One of the songs that I've recently added is Drown by Bring Me The Horizon. The first song I added, of course, was Lovefool by The Cardigans. It's interesting how all these lyrics set to such different tunes from so many time periods all fit to describe my situation.

Before, I'd left the songs in the order that I'd added them. This hasn't seemed quite right lately. I decided to reorganize it. It wasn't so straightforward; it was something like sifting through my feelings. It ended up being what I feel now to what I felt at first, in general. But there's another pattern to it. Can you see that?

I would really like for you to listen to these songs. I know you won't like all of them, and that's okay. I know you'll like some of them, though. If you're actually reading these messages, you can listen to some songs and read some lyrics, right? The playlist is embedded below, starting from the beginning. I... just want you to hear me however I can express myself.

I wouldn't do for you

My therapist gave me a theoretical today: you suddenly decide to take me back, but on one condition. What condition would be a deal-breaker? What would make me say no?

At first I replied that I'd turn you down if you said I couldn't talk about or admire other people with you. Surely if you had become the jealous type and wanted to thought-police me, I wouldn't want you back. Then I reconsidered... no, I would give that up for you. Honestly, I could do without everyone else if I just had you. Besides, you'd probably change your mind later.

Next, I considered that I would turn you down if you said I had to drop out of school for you. I quickly took that back; I know enough about programming to be able to make a living off it. I finally settled on this condition: if you were to tell me that I had to be your housewife, being unable to spend time on anything besides chores and you; if you were to ban me from pursuing a career or even an individual hobby, so I'd be unable to program for example. No, that's where I'd draw the line. If you wanted me back, I would want to help make a nice future for us, fulfilling my aspirations as well as yours.

I know that you wouldn't ask me to drop out of school and stop pursuing my dreams. I'm not afraid of that. This is just theoretical, if you were to change so much that you would ask me for that. The therapist tasked me with coming up with at least one more deal-breaker. I did come up with another after the session, following the issue of fulfilling aspirations. I wouldn't take you back if you said that I could never have a biological child. I may be pretty screwed up, but I think my genes are worth passing down. It comes down to nurture too, after all.

This post may have made you uncomfortable... this is just a theoretical about you taking me back. At the least, I simply want you to accept me again as your friend. Like you said, we're the weirdest best friends ever. I just want to be with you somehow, more than just keeping you in my heart.

It wasn't recovery

A few messages back I mentioned that I was able to wake up later. That didn't last. I'm back to being unable to sleep past 7. Back to feeling more empty than anything.

The alleviation was nice while it lasted. Sleep is always nice, first off. But, seriously, I almost felt normal. It was as if I was just waiting to be able to see my girlfriend again, not as if I'd been abandoned by the deepest love of my life. I was very much able to enjoy what I was doing and the people around me. My regrets about you were dismissed simply with finger pistols or sudden song. I didn't feel like I should cry.

All that being said, take pretty much the opposite and you've got my normal state of depression. That is the apathy and sadness that I've returned to. And less sleep, making for less dream time and more crushing reality. At least now I know that there can be periods of respite from my depression. I can't say that I'm looking forward to my next break, because after the matter it doesn't mean much to me. However, I'll certainly welcome it when it comes around again.

Do anything

There is something absolutely crazy that I've learned. We really can do anything.

Before us, I always kept myself in a cage of disbelief. Through our relationship, though, I discovered that there are so many things that I actually can do. But I wasn't quite where I am yet. I was merely falling into place. I felt like things were simply the way they were and would slowly change throughout the years. I felt like there were things I'd always done that I could continue to do, and there were other things that I would just have to wait for.

Now I realize that couldn't be farther from the truth. Falling into place? We make these places for us to fall into. The niches that we stayed safe in before have been destroyed, and we've been dragged into places that other people have constructed for us. But guess what I can do? I can take this place I've been dragged and make it my home. It's not comfy, and I'd rather be somewhere else, but it will do while I'm trapped here.

We can do anything. There are things that shouldn't be done, there things that perhaps should be done, and all these things are right in our reach. We've done a lot, you know? Let's do something to truly fix this, because we can put out our hands and grab it.

Eating habits

I've been distracting myself with my weight lately. I've been slimming down over the last weeks, more slowly recently. I quickly dropped 10 pounds at first. Today I was the lightest that I've been in years, at only 192 pounds. I'm aiming for another 10 pounds off. I've been from 193 to 197 pounds prior to today.

At first, my tactic was very simple: don't eat, drink water. I still eat, but I eat very lightly, downing water most of the time that I feel hungry. Then I started going for healthier foods, avoiding animal products, processed foods, and especially sweets. Finally, especially as I find myself unable to abstain enough from the food I mentioned, I started adding spices to everything. That's when I realized that I have a huge tolerance plus a craving for spices.

My mom and grandma are extremely hesitant to bring on the spiciness when preparing food that I ask for. My grandma has been liberal enough with cayenne pepper on some occasions, but my mom never even gets close. Jalapeños just don't phase me, though they are delicious. The aforementioned cayenne is nice and spicy, but I honestly don't care much for the taste.

With all that pie and cake laying around in the house that I couldn't keep my hands off of, I have had to enforce my spice quota more strictly. Today my mom made a chile relleno for me; a green bell pepper was stuffed with beans, cheese, and jalapeños (yes, we stuffed pepper into the pepper), then we tried to cook egg onto it (the shape of the bell pepper defeated us on this front). Even though it didn't end up spicy enough, it was certainly delicious, and I think it'll make up for my sweets intake. I also hope the pure cinnamon I put onto the cake helps too. Well, I suppose the scale will tell tomorrow.

No, I'm not really doing this for myself. There are a few reasons for my diet. For one, as I mentioned, having this diet is distracting from my depression. Secondly, I know you always loved me and my body, but I want to be thinner to be sexier, or at least scrawnier to be less intimidating. Thirdly, I'm motivated not to eat much because I've lost much of my sense of entitlement; I'm happy to eat much less than I'd otherwise gobble up because that means I'll less of a waste of resources. On the flip side of that, my water intake is way up when we're supposed to be in a drought... whatever.

I hope I'm in a more desirable shape when you see me again!

Cake spoon

My little brother brought up a very good point today: so many cakes are very soft, so why use a fork to eat them? We can just cut through and hold them with spoons. And so he's opting for spoons instead of forks to eat up his cake. That's working perfectly fine for him; it doesn't really make any sort of difference, it just gives those underused spoons some love.

That guy's got good stuff coming for him. He doesn't just go along with what everyone else says. He questions and considers all those things. If something's pointless, he can buck it just as easily as he can carelessly embrace it. He doesn't let the world just push him along without knowing where they're pushing from. He doesn't blindly trust that someone knows more than him even when he doesn't know a thing.

I wonder what eating habits my little brother will question next?

Gentle push

There's got to be a way that I can somehow nudge you in the right direction. There's got to be a way that I can help you. But, most importantly! There's got to be some way to stay weak while doing that.

I still honestly don't care what bad opinions other people have of me. If I were to be strong, I would see you again. But for you to get better and for me to stay out of trouble, I need to stay weak. However, even the weak have ability. I'm able, at least now, to fulfill the responsibilities given to me in my life, yet I remain weak. Surely there's something I can delicately do to positively affect our situation.

So, what I can do mustn't involve you and me. It has to involve other things, other people. That'll do, because we have so many things and people in common. I think I can actually do this. I'll keep my thoughts on that a surprise. Maybe I'll mention it here as it happens. The vagueness, the suspense!

Even though I'm holding back my thoughts, don't be scared. What matter are my intentions. You said to me, "I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to get hurt, either." Those are the words I'll say myself as I stay weak but try to give this gentle push.

Woke up later

Today I actually managed to wake up later than usual. Normally, I can't wake up later than 7; today I woke up at 8:30. I wonder if this is some sort of sign of recovery. Maybe the early waking time wasn't a symptom of depression at all but a coincidence. I think today was nicer than most days, really. What made it any better?

Though maybe I shouldn't be asking these questions until it becomes a pattern. We'll see whether I can wake up later tomorrow as well. And, if I do, we'll see whether that day seems nicer to me. I didn't really see myself doing anything different today, so I'm pretty sure this was a natural, honest mood shift. I hope my decent mood persists into tomorrow, because I'm happy to genuinely not suffer as much from depression.

I'm not saying that I didn't suffer at all. A handful of bad thoughts floated around in my head today. But... considering it, perhaps there was one thing I did differently. I thought about what you love much more than usual. I was smiling about you more than I was frowning about your abandonment. Thinking about it, I talk about you as if you'll come to see me by the end of the week. Maybe I should fantasize that in order to be happy? It's not too big of a lie to tell myself; for all I know, you could do just that.

I'm happy thinking about us

I've seen a few depictions of the average guy who hasn't gotten over his ex-girlfriend. He's so sad because everything he does reminds him of her. He remembers what her favorite drink is, and he can't bring himself to drink it. He can't visit a park that she loved to go to. Friends they held in common become unbearable to him. Every reminder of that girl tortures him.

That's not me. Every reminder of you makes me happy. From red velvet cake to Final Fantasy, I love them no less just because you love them so much. For example, the park we spent our last outing at? I really still love it and want to wander around it. I think of that time we spent holding hands and walking along, remembering how your hand felt in mine. I chuckle at our jellybean antics before the dance recital. My memories of our lovely times together doesn't make me mourn your current absence. They help to keep me sure that we've always had something wonderful between us, and that thought gives me joy.

You'd think, then, that I wouldn't be so depressed. Unfortunately, I get enveloped by the regret of my mistakes and the emptiness of your abandonment. If only you would make more nice memories with me... I should be grateful, though, that you left me with the bright memories that we made. So, thank you for those. I will never forget them.

Life in dreams

In my dream last night, I was given a slip of paper that I was told I could redeem at a currency exchange building in order to get money. It was given to me like someone leaving a fair would give away extra attraction tickets. When I got home, I told my mother that I was going to get some money for my upcoming trip. I didn't tell her about the slip. She's always said not to accept money from someone that you don't know, and that's exactly what I'd done, so I didn't tell her the complete truth.

I drove alone down some freeways and found myself on a ramp to a completely wrong place. Up a grassy hill to my side was a street going exactly where I wanted to go. Apparently I wasn't the only one frustrated by the deceiving and confusing layout of the freeway and street; drivers behind me were driving off the ramp and right up the hill to get to the street, and drivers from the street were driving down the hill looking to get onto the ramp. I decided finally to follow suit, driving up the hill, avoiding trees planted along the sidewalk and pedestrians walking on it and signaling onto the street.

When I got into the building, I found that my mother had beat me to it. I acted too happy and made a joke about my independence. She stayed where she was as I went to a counter. First, I smiled gently to the two strangers behind the counter, and exchanged my own money for foreign currency. Next, I handed over the slip to be redeemed.
"That's horrible," one of them said, looking along with the other at a computer monitor.
"It's not that horrible," I replied, gaining the instant dream knowledge that they were looking at a personal history file somehow related to the slip.
They made various other comments, while I stayed quiet and started to feel guilty. My smile gradually became a frown. Finally, I was asked, "Can you recite the number on this paper?"
No, I hadn't bothered to memorize it or anything, so I admitted, "I don't want it. It's not mine. Someone at the airport came up to me and threw it at me, telling me that I could redeem it for money."
"Sounds to me like you stole it," an eavesdropping police officer said.
I looked at the officer somberly. I could hardly feel my astonishment over my emptiness. I wordlessly looked back at the people behind the counter. I woke up.

I don't think I acted in the dream very differently than I would have in real life. I may have been naive enough to take the slip. I probably would have kept the slip a secret from my mom. I almost believe that I would have crossed from the ramp to the road if everyone else was doing it. I always put on a smile for people in public, one that too easily slips away whether it's bright and accompanied by laughter or gentle and quiet. And I don't have enough emotion to genuinely react to peoples' accusations, even if they hurt me.

In life, I can't just wake up. I can't instantly disappear. But I would if I could.

Wood sawdust

At work today, we had to cut out some tree roots that had grown into a wall we were repairing. It was weird to smell the dust that was produced; I've grown so used to the saw slicing into such things as mortar or brick that the sweet, wooden scent caught me completely off. Also, the dust was fine and organic, rather than heavy and grimy. It was just radically different.

The last time I smelled wood like that was back in middle school, at Camp Palomar. A certain mutual friend of ours may have had a terrible time at that camp, but I actually liked the experience overall. I liked the woodcrafting activities, at the least, and that dust brought back memories like sanding down a random chunk of wood into modern art. I remember that I lost that wood. As a replacement, I was given a wooden button with my name engraved on it. I think I lost that too.

It's just absurd to me that I can so potently remember a nice time that didn't include you and... actually enjoy the memory. One of the hardest things for me to enjoy now are memories without you, but somehow that one made it through. I guess it was the strong scent trigger? I'm not going to start snorting wood dust to be happy, though. I'll just be satisfied that I was happy at the time. Besides, we have more roots to cut.

I wonder what happy memories you cherish from before you met me?

Red velvet cake

Today was my little brother's birthday! His cake of choice? Red velvet, of course. Who knows what makes that kind of bread so delicious to you, him, and me? Yes, the cake was quite delicious, though my mom complained once again about the sweet frosting. It would be nice if the frosting on that cake could be like those red velvet cupcakes we like. Oh, yes.

Whenever we get food that I know you'd like, I have the urge to save it for you. You've always asked me to save you sweets that I tell you about, and I always have even if you didn't ask. But I can't save this cake for two years. Besides, I don't think my brother is going to choose a new birthday cake any time soon. I think it's pretty official that red velvet is his cake as black forest is mine.

You're always invited to the celebration; you're our friend, after all!

Continuing

It's hard to say that my depression started when I broke up with you, because I refused to feel it back then. I completely covered it up and ignored it. But I lost interest in the things that I love before I opened up to you. I lost interest in D&D, in videogames, in programming... so many things slipped out of my mind, and I was acting as if I was perfectly fine.

Back at that time, I wasn't thinking much about being with you again. Now that's what I think about to get me to the next day. I think that's why now I'm able to start to enjoy these things again. I just started a new module at my university - actually, I'm retaking what I dropped out of or flunked last module due to depression - and I'm off to a good start. My interest in programming has resumed. I'm motivated to do this school work. But what motivates me now isn't just that I like programming. It's you.

In order for me to talk to you again, I have to lead as good of a life as I can. Maybe I can't be happy, but I need to be successful. I need to have my life in my hands, my emotions recognized and managed. Then you'll want to talk to me again. I'm working hard to achieve that!

Actually don't come down south

I think I've told you before that my grandpa hates it when my grandma and great-grandpa visit El Salvador. I always thought it was just that he misses my grandma when she's away, but I found out today that it's more than that. He was concerned about the standards of hygiene there, about the rate of crime, and about the tropical environment creating a haven for disease-carrying mosquitoes. He expressed these concerns to me, since I want to go to Central America to see my dad, his mother, and whatever other family I would meet. He was especially worried that my body would be unprepared to get sick over there, and that I would be harassed or even attacked for looking and acting white. He was so anxious about it that he was on the verge of tears; I've never seen him like that before.

Those issues would apply to you, too. Even more so looking/acting white, because, well, you are white. I really don't want to subject you to those things. At least you're now clearly okay with me going without you.

Your sleeping habits are still annoying

It always bothered me that we could rarely just full asleep together like a romantic couple. It was inconvenient that you had to have some noise on. I was disappointed that you couldn't face me while we slept. It was stupid that you insisted on running a fan all night while hiding desperately under a thick blanket.

Now the only item of those I have to deal with is the need for noise to sleep. But, instead of being kept up by it while you doze off, now I am the one dozing off to it. I really just want to enjoy these Call of Duty gameplays, but my eyes struggle to stay open. It's not because it's boring, but because my mind is occupied and I'm not thinking about you. During that time, it's peaceful, and I start to fall asleep. It's hard to enjoy those videos when you're drifting into unconsciousness during them.

On one hand, given that my sleeping habits now mirror yours, we'd probably have an easier time sleeping together. On the other hand, those habits would disappear along with my depression if we were together again. Still, understanding the root of those habits now, I'd be more glad than ever to tolerate them. For that matter, it's always been worth it to be able to accompany you in sleep.

Therapy

So, as far as I know, you're getting therapy, right? I hope your psychologist is good enough to realize what I've realized. I have doubts because wasn't this person someone who said to disconnect? Nonetheless, I hope this person can understand you and see what you've been struggling with for years.

I like my psychologist. She's really fantastic. I feel very comfortable with her, and I feel that she understands me pretty well. At the least, she sympathizes with me. It's kind of amazing to think how much just one hour talking to a professional psychologist can help. She's not just a sounding board. She guides me through the conversation and gives carefully-considered advice. I hope your psychologist is doing that for you.

I would really like you to accompany me to a session with her. That would just be really great. It could happen someday.

Laughs

I can't even tell whether I'm faking laughter or not. I know when I'm faking a smile versus when I'm actually smiling; the prior feels forced. But when I laugh it's over-the-top, even if something isn't really funny, This is only to feel the enjoyment slip away within minutes. So it isn't forced, it just comes too easily and is so exaggerated that I don't trust that it's even genuine. It makes me sad to question my own laughter this way, but it's concerning to me.

I guess that it doesn't matter, really. The people around me think I'm happy. It's not like refraining from laughing would do any good. I don't feel dishonest for laughing, only confused. I bet I'd feel comfortable if you made me laugh.

I understand but can't act

I was talking to my grandpa about our depressions. He kept trying to give me advice, tell me that it'd get better, tell me I could do something. He hardly actually listened. It was so frustrating... and that's exactly what I did to you. While you wanted me to just listen, I wanted you to just fix it. You stopped telling me about your problems completely because I wouldn't just listen. Now I'm pretty closely in your shoes.

But now I can't use it to help you. I've learned so much, but I can't apply it with you. We're disconnected. The best I can do is tell our friends what I've realized, hope that they take it seriously, and help you themselves. Yes, I'm also telling anyone that will listen. That's more for me; I feel so relieved that someone else is trying to understand. If we're lucky, one of those people will meet you and be able to help you. More realistically, they could apply their understanding to people in their own lives.

There is one thing I care about aside from you. I care about helping other people avoid my situation. I don't want anyone else to fall into or inflict the same pain I have to bear. I have faith that good things will come of this. They have to.

Sides

Yes, there are definitely sides to this situation. But it isn't you against me. One side pushes for isolation and fear, while the other wants understanding and mediation. It's basically "they're unwell and shouldn't be in contact" against "they're concerned and could help each other". I think I know now who's on what side. It's painful to even know that these sides exist, really. I wish we could all just work together to truly help you. But of course that isn't possible when it's ignorance versus enlightenment.

I like to solve problems by hearing out the different sides, picking apart their views, then coming to a reasonable compromise. It's the prior side's view that any interaction between you and me will hurt you, and that I will eventually simply get over you. It's the latter side's view that interaction between you and me can heal both of us. My compromise is that I'm giving you space until you feel comfortable enough to talk to me again. The problem is that the prior camp has dragged you and others in, and with their influence we may never be able to recover. I want the latter side to have some sort of similar influence, but nobody is strong enough to make that happen.

This side of enlightenment feels lonely, honestly. Most of the people involved with us have chosen ignorance. Maybe it shouldn't be so surprising. I feel that people generally choose ignorance very often. However, then there are the people who regularly read these messages. They're clearly trying to understand, and hopefully they know that what's happening isn't right. So, I know that I'm not the only one on this side after all. I'm grateful for the support.

One day, you'll be on the right side of things again. I will be right beside you, with all my heart.

Bad people

Before the court hearing, your grandfather told my mother that he'd given me his number so that I could talk to him. My mother warned me not to talk to him, or he'd use it against me. So, I avoided calling him... until today. I told him that I wanted to talk about you.

If you contact me or anyone else about her, I will get her to file against you as being in contempt of the court. Bye.

I weakly asked him to hold on. He hung up.

He said he would get you to file... they really have been the puppeteers behind this whole thing, after all. If he were to tell you simply that I'm talking about you, you wouldn't do anything. But he would urge you in addition that you need to take action against me. I really wanted to think that he was a good person. That you were wrong all those years when you said that your grandparents were heartless, and that my mom was wrong when she said that I couldn't trust your grandfather. But no, he really is a bad person, isn't he? I don't like labeling people as bad. I want to understand them. But what I understand is that you're nothing more than an heir to them. All those times they called you fat and wouldn't gift you things that would help your life, they really were trying to mold you into someone worthy of being their granddaughter. They alienated you because they thought that made you independent and strong, but instead it made you clingy and weak. And I guess that's what they're trying to do to me, too, by manipulating you into this. Horrible. Just horrible.

All I wanted to talk about was the realization I came to yesterday. I wanted to warn him that you've been depressed all this time because you're so disconnected. I wanted to ask for him and your grandmother to spend as much time as they could with you, and to make you feel more loved. So what happened instead is painfully ironic. What's more painful is that I know now that they aren't helping you.

We're good people, though. Somehow, someday, we will repair this.

American pi day

The date being 03/14/15 makes it American Pi Day! I had the oh-so-original idea to - wait for it - buy a pie in celebration. Part of my brilliant plan was to get the pie in the evening. Yes, so brilliant and original that, by the time my little brother and I left to buy the pie, everyone else in the city had beaten us to it. Okay, sarcasm aside, we had to drive to an entirely different location where they were in the process of baking up some more pies.

I really wish you were with us to enjoy the chocolate cream pie we got! Actually, not really; you wouldn't have liked the chocolate that much. David certainly did it, and he was the one who chose that flavor. Nonetheless, I just imagine what your presence would have been like. Maybe we would have even gotten a different flavor of pie? If you got a flavor that you liked, how much of the pie would have been devoured then? And would you have talked me out of trying to mix cinnamon into my milk, or would you just added some laughs when I derped up? Yes, I did do that. Yes, I should have known better, growing up with Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, than to expect the cinnamon to simply mix in. Look, I'm just obsessed with spices right now, okay?

Anyway, I hope you didn't miss out on this funny little day. If you didn't do anything out of the ordinary, then I hope you at least laughed about it a bit with someone. This particular Pi Day only comes around every 100 years, you know. In another 100 years, who knows, the US may have submitted to international date standards, thus abolishing Pi Day altogether. Crazy theoretical there, I know, haha.

Hey, mind if I close this with a pie pun? Alright, here goes: sweet dreams!

Unseen

We never really knew each other. There were hints that we didn't take. There was an entire other level to each of us that we never explored... because I held back all those years. I thought, "I'll put up with her being such a kid, because I love her and want her to be happy." You thought, "He never tries to relate to me, but I love him and want him to be happy." When I opened up completely to you, you broke; would I break if I listened closely to absolutely everything you had to say? That's a risk I'm willing to take if it would help you.

It seems that disconnection is the root of all of our problems. You told me that you don't have friends and family that you feel very close to. I told you that you mean everything to me, but now I can't have you close. Knowing that my depression has pushed me into experiences you described having to me, I'm sure that you've been battling depression all these years. I see all too clearly now the true nature of disconnection. What we didn't know hurt us so very badly. I hope that everyone reading this can understand now that disconnection is not the answer.

Now, how can you come to realize it? Your psychologist, the police, your grandparents, her... so many people around you are telling you to stay away. There are some who won't tell you otherwise because they don't want to pick a non-existent side. And I can't tell you a single thing. I can only hope that someone else can show you what I've realized: do not disconnect, but look further.

Fell asleep sorry

Around 7PM yesterday I was watching our favorite little YouTuber play some Call of Duty, and... jeez, all of a sudden I got very, very sleepy! So I went to bed, put an episode of his Deadly Orbit series on my tablet, and passed out within a matter of minutes. Now it's 2AM. Damn, I missed my second update of the day.

I actually did wake up briefly around 11:30 I think? So I did have the chance to get up and whip a post up. You know, though, how when you wake up at such a time all you want to do is get back to sleep. That's exactly what I did. It's not the first time I've missed an update; I've done it twice before, once partly intentionally as to bring the post count back to an even number. I like seeing the post count even, it just seems complete. I could skip out on an update today to even things out, but I think I'll just give an extra post instead. It's not really like when I was txting you and trying to limit my contact with you, so I can put down a message as often as I want really.

I do wanna talk about how odd this is. First, for weeks I've been waking up at 7AM or earlier, where I'd normally sleep in until 10. If we were still talking, that'd be nice, because I could talk to you in the morning before school. Unfortunately it doesn't do anything particularly positive for me, and it tends to be overcast in the morning. Second, I don't normally fall asleep to media. You're the one who considers background noise an imperative for sleep, not me. I mean, I was falling asleep to gameplay of Call of Duty, and first-person shooters do not provide the silence I normally sleep to. Third, why 7PM? That's way earlier than I usually sleep. If I really needed more than 6 hours of sleep so badly, I would prefer to sleep in dammit.

The most absurd thing out of all of this is that it mirrors your sleeping habits. Wake up early even when it's unnecessary? Check. Fall asleep to people yelling, having engaging dialogue, and shooting guns? Check. Occasionally fall asleep hours before bedtime? Check. This can't be a coincidence... love, what have you been dealing with all this time? What have you been going through that nobody can make you smile away? When I was happy with you and you said that dark thoughts consume your silence, I didn't really get it. You could just think about nothing, enjoy the silence, I figured. Now it's difficult for me to do just that to chase my own thoughts away from my quietness.

Your abandonment got me in this state. You told me so much about how you hardly have friends and you feel disconnected from your family. Is this really what lack of communication does? Does it create shut-ins who can't keep poisonous thoughts away when things are too calm? This is... incredible... and it makes too much sense... I'm so sorry.

What I say to you

There have been some long posts here, and there have been some short ones. Sometimes I put posts up only an hour apart from each other. Despite those things, I always have something to say to you. There are many things I want to say to you. The real consideration is how to say it. You'll read these messages some day, and I want to convey them as well as I can. Keeping to updating twice every day forces me to search for words. It forces me to try to think and understand myself. Where I would otherwise sink further without your presence, expressing myself to you keeps me afloat.

I like to think that each message means as much as the other. The meanings themselves can be very different, but I see all of them as equally important to understand. These words are vessels for my hope, even when I'm covering something up.

An evening out and about

After school, my little brother and I spent some time together. He wanted to get a Doctor Who jacket at Hot Topic, so we drove all the way to a downtown plaza to get it. Some silly stuff happened.

First off, parking. When we got into the parking building, I thought it'd be like other parking lots: pay for parking, get a ticket, leave the ticket on the dash, leave before time's up. Nope! I didn't have to pay a penny from start to finish, and that really made me uncomfortable, haha. I felt like I was skipping out on a tab. We also found out when we wanted to leave that the ticket had to be taken to a validation machine in the plaza. So we had to hunt around for a validation machine, and it wasn't easy. One sign that said Parking Validation pointed straight at the ground. Before and after futilely trying to navigate down underneath the sign, I was pretty convinced that the sign was asking us to phase through the ground. I still have no idea who thought that sign would help anyone. And the sections of the parking structure were identified with vegetables, just what? We were in 2Chili. Again, what.

After we parked, we needlessly walked around half a block to find an entrance into the plaza. We hunted down directories on each floor and navigated up various escalators, because come on they're escalators! We did end up betraying the escalators to use a staircase at one point. Dishonor on everything from us to our cow. But the staircase was alright because it wasn't straightforward, and there were some huge chess boards nearby that some people were messing with. I asked my brother if he wanted to play, but he was concerned about the non-existent parking fee, so we didn't dawdle. Making our way to the Hot Topic without help may have been a small feat, but it was a fun one for whatever reason~

That Hot Topic is not particularly clearly organized! After making our ways around the walls of the store, my brother and I found awesome stuff but didn't quite understand the layout. At all! We ended up in a corner with various Doctor Who items and some Supernatural and Harley Quinn stuff. I was so confused that I decided to stop being antisocial and talk to a clerk. So apparently one wall is for guys, the next is for girls, and the last is for... whatever they couldn't fit on the other walls, I guess. Since jackets are out of season and I couldn't find any neon-colored jeans in my size, we decided to get Attack on Titan tees! You know, the anime, AKA Shingeki no Kyojin? Anyway, at first the shirts were matching, but the clerk insisted that I get the other shirt they had available for the series, so I did. There were Minecraft figurines and plushies that tempted me, but we could each have only one item and the shop was doing buy-1-get-1/2. Random urge to be thrifty! My brother's going to wear his shirt to a field trip tomorrow. I'm sure someone will notice and call him out on it, or at least recognize his awesomeness.

Finally, back in suburbia, my little brother got a haircut. And the Asian stylist who tended to him said he looks like an anime character with his new hairstyle. Like, I've been calling him Asian for years! I think this serves as confirmation. We walked afterward to fetch a quesadilla for him, and on the drive back home I finally dropped by McDonald's to get a Shamrock Shake. Mmm. Though, can you believe that my brother forgot that they have McFlurries at McDonald's? Like, where else would have have McFlurries, man! I think he was satisfied with his Sprite though.

All in all, I had a fun evening with my brother. But... I couldn't help but think of you. You could have had fun with the navigation shenanigans and parking payment misunderstanding. We would have gotten you something from Hot Topic, and something tells me that it would have either been wibbly-wobbly or plushy, or maybe a shirt featuring Sebastian Michaelis' visage since that was an option. Maybe you'd have gone for a haircut too, and I know you'd beg for a quesadilla. A cola with no ice would have been added to the food order, and you would have contributed to teasing my little brother about forgetting about McFlurries. Us three have always gone out together.... Your only presence there, though, was through my thoughts.

Let's all have some fun together again sometime. Especially an evening out and about.

Dream a smile

The sky was grey over some big concrete buildings, cement ground, and green trees. I looked forward, and you were inches in front of me, facing away from me. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at me. I froze. You looked away and walked on, and I couldn't follow. I fell to the ground and just sat there. I couldn't say anything, and I couldn't move. I could only watch you disappear into the crowds. I felt empty and weak, but I remember your smile.

Not so different from my life.

Tick tick tick

So, I'm not gonna heal without you. I've accepted that, I'm dealing with it, I'm staying where I am. But what are the conditions for your recovery? Supposedly I need to be out of your life. Check. You need the support of family and friends. Check. You need to have your technology for entertainment. Check. So then, why aren't you getting any better?

I don't know when you'll stop being so deceived. But time is passing by quickly. If you could get better before you leave town, that'd be great. I shouldn't get my hopes up for that, though. You'll likely need to live your own life before you can heal. Well, I will do everything I can do to help you. Even though that means not doing anything at all, just watching the clock tick by. I wish someone would actually help you, by helping us.

Grey days can be okay

Today's been pretty nice! Our favorite YouTuber put up a video just because I asked him to, and he mentioned me. I've kept that in mind most of the day to keep me smiling. You'll probably see that video later. I found out that, in my upcoming module of school, I can get accommodations for my depression instead of letting it screw my schoolwork like it did the past module. I've had fun interacting with my online friends; they're acting so silly today! Finally, YouTube has been feeding me some lovely electronica to chill to.

Even with clouds in the sky and without you here, things are good! I hope your day has been just as nice~

Why forgetful posts why

The default permalink for a blog post page here on Blogger ends with its title, with dashes replacing the spaces. But I like to change it so that it's the day, a dash, then the daily post number. For some reason I keep forgetting to change that permalink on posts that mention forgetfulness. Ironic coincidence? Subconscious self-prank? Oh well, few people besides me care.

While we're on the topic of forgetfulness, sometimes I have something to post when I wake up. However, by the time I get to my blog to post, the words have disappeared. They're kind of like dreams, but I don't remember any dreams actually inspiring those words. I feel like they form as I wake up, then vanish when I've started being active. In general, I think a lot about my situation and about you when I wake up. Those other thoughts, at least for a while, vanish when I get up and do things.

I think as good a way as any to close this one is to note what won't be forgotten. I can't just forget you, and you can't just forget me. It'd take some brain damage or hypnosis, and I really hope brain damage doesn't come into play. Okay, that's too odd of a note to end on. Just remember that I keep going for you.

I forgot to say

I was so scared in that room. Many things were left unsaid. I did manage to say that your wellbeing is the most important thing to me. I didn't get to say that I can accept being your friend. In fact, I'm okay with being whatever you want me to be, as long as I'm somehow yours, but I wouldn't have said all that in that room. I tried to acknowledge that you need to heal. I tried to say that I wasn't healing without you. I hope you heard what I was trying to say.

I hope you can remember me when you're better. I want you to help me to heal after you've recovered. If I can ever get better without you, then I will. I'll do whatever I can so that you can call me your friend again.

Others are worse off

One person I know is the victim of child abuse, has been depressed for years, self-harms, and has attempted suicide several times in the last month.

I'm pretty well off, and I always have been. I have a caring family and concerned friends. I've only been depressed for a bit over a month. I don't self-harm, and I've never actually attempted suicide. I have food and clean water. I live in a stable household. I can drive wherever I need to in my car. I've got a computer and a smart phone for playing games and connecting to the world. Those things are great.

But I'm still depressed, and just because I don't have you anymore. Absolutism just doesn't apply to depression. I don't care about anything but you right now, so the pain of people whose depression is more justified doesn't matter to me. All I can feel is my sadness, emptiness, and longing, not theirs.

And I can't feel your anxiety and fear. But you are still the only thing that matters to me so, even if I can't feel your anxiety, it still matters to me. At least you're better off than I am; I care about nothing except you, while you care about everything except me.

Love harms

I say that I don't self-harm.
That isn't true.
I love you.
That hurts me more than any cut.

You better be getting better

I've been giving you your space for weeks now, and you still hadn't improved that last day that I saw you. Your anxiety must be just as deep as my depression... what's prolonging it for you, though? Not seeing you is what's keeping me down. Is it being around those people that's keeping you scared?

For what it's worth, this separation better be helping you. I'm suffering every day so that you will get better. Your welfare is so much more important than I am. For every day that I hate, I hope you've enjoyed it. For every second that I cry, I hope you've laughed. For every time I have to fake a smile, I hope you've held a genuine grin on your pretty face. For every message I leave here, I hope you've read or heard something that warms your heart. For every time our memories taunt me, I hope they've reminded you of better times.

I just don't want you to be killing yourself as much as you've killed me. And I want you to get better soon so that you can save me.

International women's day

It's International Women's Day! You probably didn't know that. Well, congratulations, you're being celebrated. What I've been wondering all day is whether the day celebrates the female sex, the female gender, or both. I'd really like to be a part of it. I identify as nongender, but I want to accept my male body while I also have a strong desire to be female. It's events like this day that keep me confused and even self-loathing.

Once I broke down and cried to you about being a boy. I told you how I was sick of being a boy, how much I wanted to be a girl. Some time later, when she visited, you even tried to say to her that I was a girl inside. But I said that I don't care about being male or female. Usually that's true, but I've been wanting to be a girl much more often since I became depressed. On top of all the things I've always envied women for, I feel that there are so many things that would have gone right in our relationship if I were a woman. Men are more easily seen as intimidating. Maybe I wouldn't have been seen as so much of a threat if I were a woman. I wouldn't have felt the need to be a strong, decisive man and break up with you. In the first place, she could have had affection for me if I were a woman, so there'd be no problem to break up over. Just... everything would have been right.

You're the woman I cherish on this International Women's Day. I hope you're enjoying yourself. I hope you're happy being exactly who you want to be. Whenever you come back... the person you called your baby girl will be waiting right here.

Don't be a hero

I learned something about fitting into society this past month. Don't be a hero. You don't have the right to be a hero. Society runs off of papers and subservience, you see. In some places, the fabric of authority is unraveling or nonexistent. Maybe being a hero is more appropriate in those places. I can't comment on that, because I have no experience there. All I can say is, where the law is the law and units can be dispatched to your location, don't be a hero. You can too easily become a victim, like I have.

In no way alone

I know that I'm not alone. There are so many people who want to help me; I can't be alone when all these people are reaching out to me. There are so many people I know that are struggling with depression just like I am; I can't be alone when all these people are in the same place that I am. Even some songs sing about my emotions and situation. All these connections ensure that I am not alone.

You aren't alone. You're a recluse, but there are people who love you. I'm crazy enough to believe that you can even feel me caring about you. In those silent moments when dark thoughts envelop you, you certainly aren't alone; I suffer now the same way, so I'm in the same place. If there isn't anyone else, then there's still me.

I never want you to feel like you are alone. Loneliness is a deadly thing. We're never alone, and some day we won't be so separated either.

Whenever you're ready

I understand that you still need to recover from the trauma of bearing my emotions. Take as much time as you need. I want this suffering to end, and the solutions are your affection or death. I'll avoid death, instead hoping that your affection for me will return to you. I can struggle as long as I have hope that you'll save me.

You'll be leaving town in a few months. I think that one thing you need is some time away from the people that you have trouble calling your family. Maybe you need some time away from this city after all. I wonder how your experience with the real, unsure, scary world all alone will be like. How will that compare to what happened between us? Maybe it will put this in perspective.

You can always talk to me. I just can't talk to you, unless you ask the courts to let me. I actually feel that I'm talking enough by writing for this blog. What will make me truly happy are your responses.

Two years

until I can speak to you again
until you can hold me again
until we can hang out with our friends again
until I can know where you are again
until we can do our favorite things together again
until I can do your chores again
until I can make you laugh again
until I can stay happy again
for me to keep holding on

Guess the song

How about we play a guessing game? Below are some lyrics from different songs. Guess what songs they're from! You can just Google them, whatever XP

1. I know that I just need you like I've never done before.
2. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.
3. I would wait forever, exalted in the sea; as long as I am with you, my heart continues to be.
4. You show me how to see that nothing is whole and nothing is broken.

Made sure to use lines that didn't have the song title in them, just for extra challenge~ If you didn't search them up, leave a comment on this post with your best guesses!

Memorizing sobs

When I'm not lying to and distracting myself, I listen to a YouTube playlist of songs that describe my feelings and situation quite accurately. I titled it They Sing the Words I Can't Find. Sometimes I try to memorize their lyrics so that I can sing them to you someday. But I've encountered a pretty big problem in doing that: while I'm singing the lyrics, I get too emotional. I lose my concentration, and my singing becomes more of a wail. Sometimes I have to stop and cry. Other times I continue singing badly because tears refuse to come. Every time, I just give up on memorizing lyrics.

Well, maybe eventually I'll memorize them. Eventually I'll be able to sing them without breaking down.

The legal threat doesn't really matter

I realized the most peculiar thing. I don't really care about all this restraining order bullshit. While I'm running around filing legal papers, I don't feel any worse than I normally do. Filling out those legal forms hasn't really tossed me for an emotional beatdown. I was filling my ears with electro while typing my statement, but that's more the pain of recounting what's been done wrong. And that's probably the reason for the one typo I made.

Though, as the hearing draws nearer, I am anxious. I want to say the right things. I want you and the judge to hear and care. At the same time, I'm scared that I'll say things that will only worsen things for me, like when I talked to the police. I'm not looking forward to the continued suffering, but I know that it will probably occur whatever the ruling is. Most likely, you still won't be ready to fix this on Friday. I just don't want a restraining order to get in the way when you are ready.

I'm concerned for me. I'm concerned for you. The legal stuff on its own honestly hardly concerns me. I just want us to be okay.

Depressed isn't the worst thing

I'm somewhat relieved that I'm primarily depressed. It's better than, for example, being primarily irritable. I surely wouldn't be able to keep a smile with strangers if I were primarily irritable. And it's much better that I'm not primarily murderous. I mean, then I would actually be a threat. One more example? I'm glad that I'm not primarily vicious. There are fates worse than death, and I have no desire to bind people to those fates.

Being depressed is harmful to the people around me, but it certainly isn't the worst thing. I said I'd lie to people, and I am lying, but my mask slips away very easily. I've trained myself so well to open up to people that covering up is now difficult. Still, my efforts have helped the people around me. They're happier when they see me acting happy, laughing, indulging myself. You'd be happy around me, too; since being with me helps me overcome my depression, my coverup would be more effective.

All in all, I'm somewhat satisfied that I'm only depressed. That means that I'm not a threat. And that means that I can be with you.

How much do you see

Since you don't interact with me at all now and you don't often post anything online, I hardly know anything about how you are right now. But to know how I'm doing takes only a few clicks. I have no idea whether you're actually reading this. I have no idea whether you bother to look at your Google+ stream and see me there. It's not too hard to know my state offline, either. I talk to two of our friends in particular quite a bit, so a few inquiries to them about me would inform you.

Before I started this blog, I sent you an SMS once saying that I'd gone and visited one of those friends. He told me last week that you actually contacted him asking about my visit. But that was when you weren't so determined to show utter disregard for me. That was when you weren't afraid to +1 a GIF of a tiny turtle dancing under a stream of tap water. When I told you that you'd made me happy by +1ing that, you stopped interacting with me completely. You even blocked me on G+. It seems as if you think my suffering is a good thing.

But you unblocked me soon after. Do you not really want to hurt me? Where is the line drawn? How much are you keeping yourself from caring about me? With all these questions, there's just one thing I'm pretty sure of: you do still care about me.

Thank you for caring.

I wish to be like that

Today, I passed by a guy who was bicycling while walking his dog. He tried to extend a friendly greeting to an older couple, but they stared at him and didn't respond. I decided to comment to him, "Cute dog!" He replied, "Thanks! How's it going, man?" "Pretty good," I said as we passed each other. "Yeah, I wish I could be like you," he told me as he and his dog traveled on.

I'd said that I felt pretty good. I wish I hadn't been lying.

Who can hurt me

One person I talked to today thought that he should leave Google+ in order to avoid hurting his friends. Something like a more broad, less extreme version of my past desire to die to avoid hurting you. I convinced him to stay, telling him that communication is key. He told me that he foresaw me cursing him out and telling him to die sometime before I quit G+ myself. Can you guess why that won't happen?

The only thing that can hurt me right now is you. You're the sole reason and cure for my suffering. What other people do to damage me doesn't deeply affect me. I get frustrated when they suggest that our separation is a positive thing, because it should be quite clear that it isn't. Nowadays I'll be quite blunt with people when I'm upset, since I've been pretty blunt about my feelings in general. But, once I've finished talking to the other person, that anger disappears pretty instantly. Just as I can't stay happy for long, I can't stay upset for long. It's like sadness is the only feeling that is meaningful enough to persist. All in all, I wouldn't be able to value my wrath enough to say those things to him.

The next part is that I won't quit G+. I understand the value of communication now more than anyone else. Having people to support me adds up to let me bear my life without you. By quitting G+, I would isolate myself and simply deteriorate. I don't want that. If I were to want to die again, I wouldn't bother quitting G+ and making myself suffer further. I'd leave everything up and simply go die. I don't really want to hurt myself.

It's almost comforting to know that you're the only one who can hurt me. I know that you'd never truly want to hurt me, even if you have put me through the worst month of my life.

I love the rain

My window is open right now. I can hear the rain falling. I can hear the wet sounds of the drenched day. I've always told you that I love the rain. I understand why some wouldn't like it: it is cold, makes everything soggy, increases the chance that one will slip, splotches up glasses. But despite all that, I love the rain. There are practical reasons to like it, such as the fact that it keeps wild plants hydrated. That's fine, but I love the rain for much more than that. There's the beauty of its presence and the comfort of its sounds. There's the way that it gives purpose to a grey sky. There's the way that it transforms our dry world into something renewed. I feel like a haiku, so here is one to close this post.

From grey skies, falling,
your droplets transform my world
into what I love.

Empty indulgence

To keep up this whole lie that I'm okay, I have to not fret about the future. I'd like to have a plan, but when I try to think one up the possible failures pop up too. In my state, those thoughts of failure really rattle me. So I indulge myself completely in the present, and that's not really healthy either. Well, I've accepted that I can't really be healthy in this situation, so that's not so much of a concern. Whatever gets me by goes right now.

Indulging myself in something inconsequential feels pretty empty when you're not involved. I feel like a little kid, aimless and distracted. Better than letting myself feel my depression and stress, I guess.

A month

One month has passed since my emotions began to flare. On the first day of last month, I spent much of my time with you. When I am by your side, I feel well. I cling to you because you make me feel safe from myself. You once told me that, when you're alone and everything is silent, dark thoughts consume you. If being with me quieted those thoughts, now I completely understand why you held on to me so tightly. Holding you clears my thoughts. I love having nothing but your presence in my mind.

I didn't want to leave you, but the promise of seeing you the next day left me able to cope with being away from you. Today, the next day is much further away than it should be.