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.