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| 03:51pm 21/11/2010 | |||
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Cars, trucks, vans, SUVs... motor vehicles terrify me. I'm sure reading Immelmann's post about them didn't help, on account of he's right that they're all deathtraps. I have... I've entirely had enough of driving and being in almost-total responsibility for the lives of myself and everyone unfortunate enough to be near me at the time. The latest problem was a collision, a minor one that thankfully left both myself and the other driver unharmed. Even the cars were almost completely intact. But it was well-enough to remind me just how much I should be afraid of driving. Not how much I am, not how much I may become, not how much I was -- how scared cars should make me feel.
I should be very, very afraid. |
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| 10:01pm 20/08/2009 | ||||
Anyway, I’ve made a mistake. A bad one. I’ve emotionally “let go” of Jewel, and I’ve done so even knowing that she would suffer for it, which she is beginning to already. The result is that she’s falling, and no one is in place anymore to pull her up now that I’ve “left.” I mean, I’m not really gone, per se, but I’m no longer able to be there for her in the ways that she needs. I remember when this first started to happen in me, I excused myself from responsibility. “Jimmy can handle it. Ben knows what’s going on. It can be their problem for awhile.” A selfish thing to think, at very best. And then when she finally came out about the realities of her problems and let Ben and Jim and the others really know what was happening to her, well, that was just about it. I collapsed right then and there (despite being at someone else’s house on my laptop at the time) and practically cried. It hit me that hard. Then I got a chance to let myself catch up to my feelings and found that by some twisted sense of logic and I-don’t-even-know-what, I thought it was a good thing. Finally, I could turn Jewel entirely over to the two British kids and let myself rest and recharge after two years. Still selfish, but at least then my heart was still almost in the right place. Resting would have let me be better-equipped to help her in the future. I justified it that way. But then I drifted. When I let go, I started to move away. Here’s something you probably don’t know about me: I’m a furry. This realization and the subsequent changes in myself came right about the same time I first started to drift away from Jewel. In other words, my heart really isn’t big enough. The instant that the strain and pressure of being the single outside bearer was off me, I immediately filled the space with something else that hadn’t yet had time to grow inside me, and it immediately exploded into a permanent lifestyle fixture. I have an emergent intelligence in the form of a young, white anthropomorphic cat living halfway inside me. But he could only appear once I was free of the most important burden I’ve yet borne. I dropped it prematurely, out of selfishness or fear or something else I don’t know what, and Cog was instantly born. And then I met Melody. I don’t love her more than I loved Jewel at the beginning. But I do love her. And I feel that I’m betraying Jewel every second that I feel that love. Especially with the latest entry in the blue journal. The rest of it was hard enough to read anyway, but then at the end... At the end, Jewel posted the entire lyric sheet to Road Ahead. And I felt like the world’s biggest jerk. Or at least, that’s how I felt right after I stopped retching. I didn’t expect it to hit me like that, but I swear those words really did hit me. And that brings you back up to when I started writing this. And now if you don’t, you should understand why I am in fact the world’s biggest jerk. ADDENDUM: The thing that makes it even worse is that I still haven't managed to get up the guts to tell Melody that I've ever loved anyone else before. I don't know if she thinks she's the first I've felt this way for or not, but that certainly won't stop me from feeling the way I do about this situation. |
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guilty| shuffled off? | ||||
| 10:32pm 20/04/2009 | ||||
I noticed today that I’ve been getting increasingly violent and gory “flashes,” like premonition or imagination. The trouble is that all of them are depictions of me dying in extremely violent ways, and all are self-inflicted. ...Actually, I’ll be a little more precise than that. The trouble is not what they depict but that I actually get a good feeling out of it along with the creeped-out-ness that comes with feeling my own skull shatter (for example). You know, like these all should have happened, that they would be the right course of action. As a result, I’m starting to find myself actually wanting to die. Not suicidally, per se, but in an accident that I cause. That’s the constant in all of them: it’s an “accidental” death that I cause, either directly (leaping in front of traffic) or otherwise (tripping, halfway on purpose, and landing headfirst on a sharp rock). I’m experiencing throwbacks to my previous suicidal desires, only evolved to a point at which the negative results are no longer actually my fault. You see, I’m sick of this life and all the problems that I can’t solve and all my inadequacies and so on and so on, but I refuse to be the cause of all the suffering that would result from my death. My religious beliefs make the whole dying-by-your-own-hand thing a lot more complicated. That is, I would still have to answer for the pain I cause after my own demise -- except that I would be primarily responsible for that to the people I hurt and to myself rather than the traditional mainstream-Christian view of being held accountable solely by God. Thus, I have no true escape from this life until it is my time to leave it. Whether that be of old age, which is only my preference if things genuinely get better, or by a true accident caused entirely by circumstances beyond me, I still must not be the cause of my own death. ...Doesn’t stop it from seeming desirable, though. |
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distressed| perspectives | ||||
| 11:21pm 05/04/2009 | ||||
My folks can barely comprehend the things I tell them even when they’re just regular mundane garbage like my latest video game acquisition. Yet whenever I somehow mess up and tell them something that’s actually important, they either don’t understand the significance at all, or they totally misinterpret what’s going on and start restricting me in one way or another. Or, even better, they start acting like I asked them for help with it when I just say things to get them off my chest and start worrying about me when I tell them about a problem that I’m trying to help someone else with. It’s simply driving me crazy. In the meantime, you have my other friends. I love them dearly, but for one reason or another I’m totally unable to get their help with all these insane problems. For instance, one of the two guys I tried to get in on helping out with the single largest set of problems I’m facing was really good natured about it. The other guy just kinda said “not now, I’m busy,” but that’s very understandable given his circumstances, and all I needed was one of them. Anyway, this first fellow did pretty much exactly as I told him, but I’d be amazed if he had the slightest hint of the real reason why. It’s just so insanely far beyond the boundaries of what I’ve told him about the situation. ...Which is really stupid because he’s just as stuck in the middle of all this as I am. And he cemented his position there just like I did a year ago, only in his case he didn’t know even as much as I did what he was getting into. And the worst part? I don’t even think that what he did and said even really got through to the person we were trying to help. As for said unknowing-help-recipient, well, that person is having the most insanely hard time of life of anyone I’ve ever known, and it seems like I’m the only other person that has even the slightest idea of what’s going on. The family is useless -- indeed, three members thereof are in my opinion the entire cause of these issues, one of them only about halfway as much so -- and so are the other friends. With that one exception, and possibly someday soonish the other guy I asked for help, pretty much no one knows what’s happening, or why. Not the extent of the problems or even that there are problems, in most cases. I can’t get myself to ask for help with this stuff except from those two friends who are already involved, probably just due to my own arrogance and pride. And heck, these aren’t even my own private problems! Just think what would happen if I ever decided that I actually needed to ask for help with those! I doubt if I’d ever even make it to the private message screen to ask... though goodness knows I’ve been close to trying for a change lately. Feh, oh well, I just kinda hope that this will somehow blow over. But, of course, that would take a miracle of a caliber all its own. |
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| moving on | ||||
| 02:13pm 05/12/2008 | ||||
Go die horribly, please. ~Azure |
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| there is no Justice | ||||
| 12:38pm 01/12/2008 | ||||
She wants to escape from the whole world. I do too. But she... she deserves it. She ought to get away from all the pain and all the fear and all the cruelty and all the hurt. It is not justice that she suffer through all this. It is not Justice. There ain't no justice in the world I wanna do it great harm See its blood In the memory of my fallen one Take back the feeling that I was wronged I wanna take the world on In a street fight Spill its blood on the asphalt If this keeps up... Well. I remember the last time that I lost my faith in justice and in the world. It wasn't nearly as bad as this soon will become. If this does not change, there truly is no Justice. She does not deserve to be destroyed, not if she's not allowed to die and leave the world properly at the end. |
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| 09:22pm 19/10/2008 | ||||
Yet another brutal headvoice attack on the 29th of last month, unexplained as always, was followed by something that happened one week later. I don’t know what that something was. But was referred to as the day “I lost my mind” and it coincided rather nastily with my own repeated near-suicide. And now she’s hiding, avoiding me at what seems to be all costs. I don’t want to call her again. Not on her home phone. Too invasive, and she’d just get hurt more. But if we don’t talk about this, then no doubt exists in my mind that we’ll both be destroyed. Why can’t it ever get better? Why? |
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| azurethrowaway | ||
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