I couldn't kill it

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

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

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

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

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

A lovely friday the 13th

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

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

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

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

Wishing for a well weekend

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

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

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

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

Wounds

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

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

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

Still holding back

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

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

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

Carrying on

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

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

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

Some things you said

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

Faith is not only put in gods

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

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

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

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

Blame it on the rain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My dad visited

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

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

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

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

Advice: good vs bad

Good Advice:

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

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

Bad Advice:

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

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

My head hurts

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

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

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

You won't speak to me

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

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

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

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

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