The wrong freedom

Freedom is an odd thing. It can amount to anything. The freedom to do something great and helpful, versus the freedom to destroy and bury. To defend freedom requires that one give up some amount of one's own freedom. By exercising freedom, one often encroaches on that of another person. Life isn't about being free, I think. It's about holding hands, whether termed restraints or bonds.

In the past years, I've found freedom with you. We took each other to experiences we'd never reached before. But I found many of the wrong freedoms. I did lovely stuff with you, but when it came to doing something spectacular I was too intimidated. I thought of constraints that were hardly even there, and I let them keep us back. However, emotional constraints came undone more easily. Maybe it was the rawness of your expression that frayed those constraints and let me act out.

I feel that losing you has changed that completely. Those emotional constraints are quite strongly back in place, maybe regenerated by the tears that refused to be shed. Those spectacular things I wouldn't do before are so clearly in reach, now that I see how insignificant those other constraints were. Well, perhaps I was unshackled back when I took you to the beach that night. I now know which of these freedoms is right and which is wrong.

I concentrated on your negatives

When I broke up with you, I made myself empty. I ignored the feelings that I had for you so that I could be strong. Then I lied, trying to make myself believe that you were nothing good for me. Even though we were still friends, I treated you harshly. You asked me to see a school play with you and I refused, saying, "Why would I watch people I don't know in a play I don't care about with my ex girlfriend?" You asked to be driven home from school and I replied, "I'm not your boyfriend anymore, so I'm not obligated to go out of my way to save you a short walk." I refused to go out of my way to make you happy, and that stung you.

On top of that, I complained about you to other people. I said that you ran off on me with a lesbian. I told people that all you did with me was use my computer and have me do chores. I sighed that you never bothered to be intimate with me. I moaned that you would always yell at me or hit me. Good riddance, I claimed! But that claim was a lie to them and to myself, because they were exaggerated and partial truths. I refused to acknowledge the rest of what we had, of what I felt.

I can only imagine that you're doing the same to me now. You're trying as I did to leave us behind. You've pushed me away by not talking to me at all. You probably tell yourself and your acquaintances that I'm just a nutjob pervert and life is so much better without me. If you are saying that, I forgive you. I know just what it's like to think that it's best to paint our picture in ugly hues.

Kill la kill

Today, I finished watching an anime called Kill la Kill. I wasn't very interested in it when it debuted. It has strange animation and artstyle for an anime. I saw plenty of images on the internet of barely-covered women from the series, and you know I don't care for ecchi. Finally, the name just didn't catch me.

However, Kill la Kill is more than those elements. Men and women alike are shown in various levels of clothing, including none (though the body wasn't detailed). I came to appreciate the way the show looked. The name ended up being insignificant, though I eventually figured that "la" is meant to make the title sound more French; French phrases occasionally make their appearance in the dialogue. The anime has great lore, interesting plot, and, I'll admit, enticing eye candies. A tiny bit of the humor was not my thing, but it mostly got me smiling and laughing!

I think you'd like this one. Action, lore, comedy, hotness, all well-put into 24 episodes. The anime seems at first to be about familial avengement, exaggerated people, and clothing that grants powers. All the simple concepts are revealed to be part of a much thicker and more complex tapestry of plot! I don't really expect you to watch it, since you're so busy and anime isn't a priority, but I still think it would appeal to you!

Last minute messages

I really should write these second messages earlier. With only 10 minutes left in the day, I feel a bit rushed to put my words together. At least the first message today came in the afternoon, though. Those words were meaningful, and I had a lot of time to think about them.

I've been so desperate to distract myself. I know for a fact that ignoring how I feel only makes things worse. But the urge of depression is to slow to a halt, to cut everything off. It's not so easy to defy that urge, to do things that won't help and deny things that will. It's much too early to slip away, but what can I do to return to my place?

Sometimes I ask, what am I even holding on to anymore? Even when I know the answer is you, I sometimes keep questioning it since you aren't here. I have to keep going, even to the last minute.

Togetherness

You were always more of a game enthusiast and I was more of an anime enthusiast. We're both PC gamers, but we've only ever had one gaming PC in the same place. I always let you play because you were so opposed to watching me. It's not like I didn't like watching you, and it's not like you didn't care for me watching. You complained whenever I turned my attention to something else. However, I often felt like doing that wasn't quite spending our time together.

Watching shows is something we do together. It's not interactive, but we are sharing the exact same experience. We make comments and eat the same snacks. We hold each others' hands and lay side by side. From that first time we watched Welcome to the NHK! on my bed, to the last time we watched a dance showcase, I felt like we were truly spending our time together. We did have our times together with games, though. For example, even if my low-spec laptop ran it poorly, we did play Minecraft together. In that game, it was less about the non-existent story we were absorbing and more about working, fighting, and screwing around together. Playing Portal 2, Dragon's Nest, and other games together was lovely too, even when we weren't in the same room.

But nothing beats laying together on my bed, staring into each other's eyes. Admiring your face, feeling your skin on my lips, holding you close to me. That ultimate experience of spending time with you, with nothing but our love occupying us. I will always hold that experience so dearly.

I should spread these messages out more

I'm sorry. I've been writing the two messages each day very close to each other lately. It's nearly midnight when I've posted the second one. I really should at least write the first one in the morning. I have many opportunities to write in the morning, but I usually get up and tackle my hunger and entertainment first. I rather struggle to have priorities since everything is so meaningless to me. That's no excuse though.

As always, it isn't like I have nothing to say. It's been difficult to find words lately, though. I feel like they come to me more easily at night. I've dealt with my day, lived it out, and I don't bother looking forward to tomorrow. It's the perfect time for me to sit down and hunt down words. All is quiet, and I'm more capable of getting in touch with those phrases that have been eluding me during the day.

I'll try to write tomorrow morning. I don't have work, don't even have school, don't have to go out of the house. Of course I still have responsibilities, but they can honestly wait. Many of them have been waiting for quite a while. I really need to put my clean laundry away. Well, do look forward to an early message tomorrow, okay? Take care.

Water

I love the water. I always enjoy a glass of good water to drink. I like swimming and floating around in water. I like taking terribly long showers. I smile in the rain as the raindrops hit my skin and the world. My astrological sign, Scorpio, is a water sign. The element of the Kingdom Hearts character you assigned to me, Demyx, is water.

Lately, I've been droplets. I've hardly been enough to do anything, and that's fine. Looking back on times when I was angry, I've never been fiery; rather, I've been the crashing of waves or of a waterfall. When I was vengeful, I've been the drag of a river's current or a shore's riptide. When I'm upset, my surface ripples on contact with falling precipitation of frustrations and regrets.

So is that why I can't burn up inside? Is that why I feel so dry most of the time, and at others I feel like I'm drowning? Is that why, at my worst, I'm dragged through a vast sadness as if by terrifying and uncontrollable jets? Has my shoreline's waves stayed small, has my river shriveled? I suppose that water cannot die, though, like a flame can.

Closing up

I've been open with people ever since you convinced me to be. So, I'm scared right now. I always have the urge to cut everything off and become nothing. Now I'm fulfilling it. I haven't talked to our friends in days. I quit working with my grandpa. I stopped answering most phone and immediately replying to messages. I'd like to think that it's a pruning, but this really is dangerous. In some ways I feel satisfied, but in others I feel plain wrong.

Should I be trying to make these connections again? Should I be putting effort into something else? How far will I let myself go, how isolated will I become? That last question is the only one I can answer, really; I won't let it go any further than this. I know for a fact that I need to stay connected in order to be safe and sound. I know that I need to be safe and sound to talk to you again. I know that I need to talk to you again. So I will give what I can to not keep closing up. I'm so worried...

What you can

You are a limitless person. Truly, the boundaries that you have are ones you've set on yourself. I tried to keep you free. I gave you the encouragement to try so many things, and you did. We've both done stunning things, for better and worse. But you were always able to fly higher than I could.

Looking back, then looking at my feet, the only reason I could be nearly as unbound as you was because of you. No other love has ever taken me so far. I'd never even asked someone to a dance before you. I never even managed to actually take someone to a date. Each time you said yes when I hesitated, you broke a chain inside me. Maybe some of those chains should have stayed intact, but I nonetheless became much more than I'd been because of you.

Now nearly every link is broken. A single burst of strength could send me careening into anywhere. My soul must stay limp, since the iron drags against me no longer. Those chains were fear containing me, and you shattered so many of them. I'm still scared in some ways. I'm still afraid of death, for example. I'm glad that chain is still there.

So that is how we ended up in this unbelievable situation. You broke my fears and ran where you felt like running. You are amazing. You inspire me to keep going. Because you can, so you make me capable as well.

Absurd

My life is actually pretty absurd. The world isn't as normal as I thought it was. What we've done is so unbelievable. The issues of the people I know are surprising when made raw. I've sunk so low into this, and I've seen who would truly be with me and who would scatter. The words I find in my heart hold other people, let them know that they aren't alone. Phrases of desire and of depression alike inspire people to speak and to continue.

That is nothing like the world I knew before. That world was so shallow, yet I cherished it. This world is so deep, yet I can hardly reach out for it. This is all so weird, but I'm not bothered by that. I've become comfortable in this world of absurdity.

First sight

Your older sister invited me and some other friends to the mall. She had to bring her little sister along, much to her dismay. So, we all met up at the mall.

I didn't think much of it at the time, but I noticed you right away. Somehow, you were more there than the rest of the world. It's not quite right to say that you stood out. The presence of reality seemed to bend around you, augmenting you. You were unique in your being, more in place than anything could ever be.

And how did I act? I was instantly pulled in. I treated you like you'd been my friend for days. Most of what I remember of that time was you. I couldn't help but look at you. I just had to say things to you. I remember walking at your side while we went about the mall. I even messed with you like I do with good friends, snatching your soda and playing keep-away with you. Of course I gave it back in the end. It's so hard to believe how comfortable I was with you. And I hate to admit that, given my antics, it must be true that boys tease girls that they like.

What did we think when we parted that day? I thought that you were a fun girl to have met, but we wouldn't really cross paths again. You've told me that you thought I was just an obnoxious guy that you wouldn't have to deal with again. How wrong we were about how intertwined we were, my dear. Not until recently have I really stopped to consider what happened that day; on my part, was it love at first sight?

I miss you

I think it's obvious. Nonetheless, I want to make it clear. We're young and have so much time. That time is being wasted with this separation, but there will still be enough left. For what? For forging new memories with each other.

We've had experiences where one of us felt wonderful at the other's expense, and even times when we couldn't help but drag each other down. What I remember when I think of us are the moments we spent together in elation, in comfort, in joy, in love. I want to sculpt more of those times with you, because I know that we can do it.

Someday your hand will stop shaking. I'll hold it then. We can start crafting something together again.

Dismantling

There was an old dresser that we'd left in the backyard for months I think. The top of the dresser was weathered so badly that it sagged downward. We couldn't start using that dresser again if we wanted to. It simply sat there, with nobody paying any mind to it. Nobody tried to take it down, move it, even cover it.

Today, I grabbed a screwdriver and got to work. I started removing the screws from the dresser, slipping the components out. I started separating the planks of the dresser. I took my sweet time, putting the screws and parts aside to be dealt with later. There were two parts I had to destroy in order to remove. That weathered top was connected to the rest of the dresser by some bits that had absurd, huge screws. I just ripped that off. There was a random plank through the middle of the dresser, too. I just brought my foot down on the plank, snapping the wood and knocking it to the ground simultaneously.

Controlled destruction can be a good release for negative energy. It's not surprising, then, that I got nothing out of snapping the plank nor ripping the top off. Depression has taken away my ability to be angry, truly. Exerting brute force was no relief for me. However, otherwise dismantling the dresser did do something for me. It wasn't forcing something to its breaking point, but working it with a degree of attention to bring it down. I don't have wrath to let loose, but an emptiness to occupy.

Our blood moon

I wasn't able to wake up to see the blood moon this morning. I wonder if you got to see it. If you did, I wonder who you saw it with. I get the feeling you didn't even know it was happening, or that you otherwise slept it over like I did. Sleeping it over definitely seems like something you'd do.

Of course, the first thing I thought of when I heard about the blood moon was the first time we each ever saw one. We had slept at your house that night, with the alarm set for early in the morning. We put on our glasses and walked out your front door into the chilly night to stare up at the moon. The moon was very close, and a shadow crept across its surface from an angle clearly distinct from your average moon phase. We stared up at the sky and watched as the shadow very slowly but surely progressed across the surface of the moon.

While it was all very fantastic, it was clear that we wouldn't see the moon become completely red for a very long time. So, we absconded from the biting outdoors and into the house. I don't think we went back to sleep, which was probably the mistake that I made this morning. I remember that we marathon-watched Epic Rap Battles of History on YouTube to pass time. You didn't have your own computer yet, so we watched on the computer in your mother's room, sitting on the foot of her bed. I believe we had a blanket draped over our shoulders and I held you as we laughed and giggled at the videos.

After we'd spent a good deal of time indoors, we ventured outside again. Thinking back, we should have brought the blanket. We were so sleepy though. The moon had very much changed its position in the sky, so we couldn't see it from your front door anymore. We walked out to the street and hunted for the ideal location to see the moon, now much nearer to the horizon. We walked up and across your street, finding our spot on a neighbor's lawn. The cold, still air pricked our skin and seeped into the soles of our Converse shoes. None of this detracted from the amazingness of seeing the moon so big and red. As the sun rose behind us, the surface of the moon was dark again but the craters were outlined in red. It was really amazing to see, for both of us, for the first time.

What was best, though, was doing all this with you. The moon was stunning, but I kept looking to you. I loved your awe as you stared up at the moon. Your expression was more precious than the beauty of the celestial body. Even when my eyes were directed to the moon, the experience was made better by the fact that my hand rested on you or in your hand. We may have been enjoying the night for this spectacular lunar eclipse, but I feel that I truly cherished it because I enjoyed it with you.

I didn't write, of course

Yeah, I didn't get to post yesterday. I'm still here, though, like I said. I've always been horrible at making spare time before a trip, to be honest. It isn't like I didn't wake up early; I always do. But it's always the small stuff, like taking a shower for a bit too long or deliberating for too much time on what to wear. All the time I waste always stacks up and messes with my plans, but at least we didn't leave late this time. Usually we leave an hour or so late. You know my family's reputation for that, actually.

The trip was nice. I messaged some friends on the way there. I watched a weird movie with my favorite cousin. She, my little brother, and I walked one of her (big) dogs to a park and back. Later, she and I drove the other two dogs, only three months old but still big, to the park. They're not used to walking on leashes, so it was difficult to move them around. They also didn't quite understand getting in and out of the car, but they weren't bad with actually being in the car. They were also more comfortable in the car on the way back. All in all, we made a lot of progress with those two, but I wish we had harnesses instead of collars. I felt bad tugging them along, even though the collars pressed against the back of the neck and not the front. On the way back, my brother and I watched a movie. We planned to get a little sleep before waking up and seeing the lunar eclipse, but we missed it. I did wake up too early and saw the moon being partially eclipsed, however.

It was a good day. I'm always wishing you were here, but it was nonetheless a good day.

Traveling tomorrow

Tomorrow's Good Friday. I wanted to go to church, but instead I'm going with my family to visit my cousins. That's fine. I like those cousins. But I really wanted to start a churchgoing habit... oh well.

I'm almost surprised that we're going anywhere for Spring Break. I don't actually have a break from school, but I don't have classes on Friday, so I'm clear for the trip. It isn't a long ride, and it isn't out of the state. Good thing I'm feeling particularly well, so I'll probably be able to put on a big smile for my cousins!

I'm going to try to type up tomorrow's messages before I leave. I'll schedule the second one to be published sometime after noon. If that doesn't end up happening, please don't be alarmed. I'll still be alive, I promise this to you. =]

Really talking

I've been repeating over and over lately that communication is the solution to our problems. But, even more than that, to what extent are you communicating? You may be hanging out with enough people, but are you really putting everything out there with a few people? You need to be able to discuss your thoughts from the surface to the core. You need people to sift through absolutely everything with you.

I tell myself that you're doing just that with at least two people. There's your psychologist and there's her. You talk to her every moment she has free, and you've always told her more than you tell to me. I don't know how often you talk to your psychologist, but that person is hopefully experienced and trained to help you explore your issues. It's on you to tell that person everything there is to tell, and I tell myself that you're saying it all.

Keep talking. Really talking. We'll be okay.

The previous message was a lie of course

Happy April Fools' Day. Yes, the last message was a lie. I had to do something in the spirit of April Fools', right? And, of course, that lie was meant for the other readers, not for you. You would know better, obviously. There were a few hints in that message that showed that it was facetious.

1. Post title:

   The title of You and I are TALKING AGAIN!!! breaks the title pattern that I mention in the message Blogging. The only capitalized letter in the title of a normal post is the very first letter. Those titles don't have ending punctuation marks, much less three of them.

2. Too good to be true:

   Sure, the content started out believable. It started to get a little questionable when I said that you're canceling the restraining order and taking me back. By the end, we've got a life set up for us in New York complete with fuck buddies? As if!

3. Hover your cursor over the paragraph:

   The tooltip that appears says, "April fools..." That easter egg just flat-out admits it.

On one hand, I'd like to apologize to the readers who didn't notice these hints and actually believed the story. You know that I wish it were true, too. On the other, though, I'd like to thank them for taking me so seriously. Depression isn't a joke, regardless of the attempts I occasionally make to lighten these messages up. If you didn't look at that previous message and think, "You've got to be kidding," then I know that you don't look at my other messages and think that, either. I really appreciate that you understand how genuine I've been.

Trust me, the only time you should be skeptical of a message's authenticity is next April Fools' Day. Thank you so much for reading. Surely we'll make it another year, won't we!

You and I are TALKING AGAIN!!!

Oh my God, it all payed off! All those months of suffering have come to an end, finally. I don't know what made you pick up the phone and start talking to me again, but I'm so glad you did! Your smile on the screen is like the sunrise on my world, and the notes of your voice are like birds singing awake~ You're going to cancel the restraining order, and you'd even like to take me again!! Yes, of course I'll live with you in the new building in New York that your grandparents gave you! I actually got a job offer from a New York-based company a while ago, and it looks like I'm the best candidate!! I could easily ask what openings they have in New York. The pay for all the positions I qualify for are really high-paying with not many hours, so I could pretty much buy you anything and spend all the time there is with you in the Big Apple. You have some boys and girls who want to play over there? Damn fine by me, babe. This is all so exciting!!!

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