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.