If Alice were to go to Waterland...
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
"Let's Drive Until We Crash This Dead End Life"
I'd like to take a rain check on life. Hit that pause button for me, will you? Maybe when we start spinning this record again I can stop it from skipping. Don't even know how to jump start a car, how the hell do I jump start my life? You might say my mother and the doctors did that for me over seventeen years ago, well then I'm still trying to learn how to drive. Cliché after cliché but then they say it as well as my own words more than half the time anyway. Basically I know I'm fucking up but it's like I'm in a tailspin and can't pull up, could you help me if I had a Mayday Parade? Seems like that's my life these days, incorporating lyrics, book, movie quotes and band names into everyday conversation, lines from advertisements when i "hate watching TV" and speaking like my boyfriend. Spent hours on the phone last night not really listening, picturing blood everywhere instead, smeared on the walls. Pictured cutting all up my body from above my ankles to the base of my neck, as much as possible, and in detail. When I finally stopped, began to talk, because he wouldn't leave - he knew there was something - I tried to explain with words that I missed the exhilaration, and the way that despite ourselves, we become competitive and how his talking about Rachel has got me wanting more more more, why didn't I do more? I couldn't now, not to myself nor to them but some times I wish I could go back to when I could reduce my world to blood and pain and the next cut, to how deep I could go and how much. These days I'd look for the same thing in a bottle, and some days I just wanna get trashed so bad, just so I can forget, for a while. Is it obvious I can't cope? I'm not quite ready to be independent and last night I wondered if I cut myself till I collapsed on the floor, if I was found by morning still alive, when I got out of hospital could mum then let me see her again, the counsellor who was amazing when I was so skeptical although ready for something like that. Don't even know what it means to get by on my own and I know that makes me pathetic. I have such hopes but I can't see them through, I can't put in what I need to and it hurts more than anything to see your disappointment, when we all know I could do so much better. I'm a mess and I can't stand it.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Post title later.
"It could be life threatening."
How do I explain what went through me at those whispered words, sounded so slowly, so carefully?
I didn't panic, I didn't go cold. I didn't quite stop breathing. My chest didn't quite constrict, but rather, it felt like something fell out of place inside me. And thoughts leapt into my mind, but they were merely conscious thoughts of usually subconscious actions. I felt my brain's instructions to breathe, for my heart to pump, to process this information. I remained very still, my face pressed close against his to hear each word. I think there was a small part of me that immediately starting screaming but it was boxed away so tightly, before it even began, that I felt no panic. But it was as though the world had suddenly become dreadfully wrong.
My boyfriend has a serious heart problem. It causes him an incredible uncontrollable amount of pain at times. Thus far the doctors don't know what it is. The results from tests he took on Friday may show what it is. It may be life threatening. And if not, well they still won't know what it is.
I can't describe to you what it is like to see him go through so much pain. To have to hold my face straight and stop those tears. I can't make it more painful for him. Some times at night his mum hears him and goes to comfort him. Some times she cries. I save my tears for myself. It is the least I can do. Not that I blame his mum, having to see her child go through that.
Do you know what scares the shit out of me? Honestly, that the worst I have seen, is nowhere near as bad as it does get. So bad that as I found out on Friday night, he has tried various things to stop it. He has stopped eating for three days straight, he has tried punching himself in the heart when it happens and finally, he began to use a hammer to hit himself in the back of the head, just to distract himself from the pain. I could barely stop the cry that wanted to escape my mouth as he told me this, because I understand why he does it, because the pain is so bad. But it hurts so much to know he is resorting to this. It is the reason for all his headaches lately. He hasn't done it in a while though, thank God. But I don't even know which is worse, him doing that, or trying to deal with such excruciating pain. It tears me apart, all I want is to make it stop. I would take it myself, if I could. I would take it all and I would not regret that for a second.
But I can't
And that only makes it more painful to watch. How do parents, family members go through these things, knowing they would give their lives, they would do anything to prevent their loved one from suffering, but they cannot? That all they can do is wait, and watch, and pray, and hope. Hold, comfort, wipe tears.
Not that I've seen Jimit cry. He wouldn't cry over this. He can't even remember the last time he properly cried. But the last time he shed a tear was over his baby cousin going in for heart surgery. I love that his heart is for others, I love that he would get in a fight with a guy in order to defend his self harming friend who descended into such darkness because of the dickhead messing with her emotions in the most terrible ways. In order to protect another of his friends from falling into his sadistic trap.
I'm glad that I help his pain by being there, holding him through it, holding him as tight as I can even when he tries to push me away because a part of him is scared he will hurt me. I'm glad that in his sleep I can calm it down so it doesn't hurt anymore, and I wish I could do that whilst he is awake.
I love how recently, when he is asleep, a part of him talks to me, and tells me these things, and converses with me, as strange as it is. It's just another part of our relationship, which is already full of random things. And that's why I love 'us'.
I love how he talks to me about my own time of hurting myself, I love how sometimes he kisses my scars as though he is trying to take away all the pain I ever felt, and I am glad that in some way I make his pain less. I just wish I could do it all the time.
And right now, I am so scared.
Any minute now, he will call me. And then I will know if it is life threating or not.
Even if it's not, what do we do?
It's six minutes past 3:30. And a part of me is terrified that he's late calling because it is bad news.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
In which I attempt to crack the Lameness scale
I have a confession. I kinda hope Chip will end up being the man I marry.
It's ridiculous. I can't imagine ever being married to him. He's Indian! That's not the real reason, of course. That he is Indian provides us with the fact that his family background and thus upbringing is so similar to mine that adds to what we can relate on and brings us closer together. There are things that you can only understand if you are growing up in another culture so different to that whence your parents came.
The small ways in which he doesn't understand me that are of huge significance are a contribution. Considering this, he can read my most subtle face expressions with a scary degree of accuracy, pinpointing exactly what is happening in my mind. A faraway look and combined with his knowledge of my life and the situation and he can work out that I am missing the exbestfriend. There is more, much more, but how can I explain it all?
There are various little things that make me certain I could never spend my whole life with him.
And yet...
He sets a high standard. I can't detail the numerous little things he does that make me realise how much he cares about me; the way he texts me twice daily to remind me to take my vitamins, the way he kisses my scars like he wants to take away all the pain I've ever felt. The way he was so happy at my one year anniversary of ending the self harm. The way he talks to me in depth about it and holds my face in the dark to make sure I'm not crying when I remember the way my parents reacted. How, when I get upset because I'm convinced I am a bad girlfriend, he laughs at the idea like its the most ridiculous thing in the world and proceeds to assure me.
I love that even if he has just picked me up for the night and he is perfectly awake, when he sees that I am exhausted, urges me to sleep and rest, and just holds me as I sleep, for hours. I love that he thinks I am beautiful, with clothes on, and how whenever I get shy or awkward he just laughs and tells me he loves me without any frustration.
I love that he wants to spend as much time with me as he can and that he trusts me, I love his strong stance against cheating and the way he talks about me to randoms when he's not with me. I love the way he calls me when he's drunk, and the way he makes me do my homework.
I love how even when he is in excruciating pain due to an unknown problem with his heart, he is most concerned about accidentally hurting me, and the way that I actually make it stop sooner and usually hurt less, just by being around.
I love that last time I saw him, he talked to me while he was sleeping, and in pain in his sleep, I could make him stop hurting just by whispering soothing words. I love the way he tries to make light of how serious the pain is, but told me in his sleep. And the way that even in his sleep, he kept whispering "I love you so much".
Through all my terrible mood swings of late when I grow incredibly self destructive and almost break up with him for the sake of causing myself pain, when I yell at him and cry and am cranky and upset and terrible to be around, he stays to talk me through it, and will come get me if he can. I love how he makes me feel better and how he's just as happy to spend hours talking as making out.
There are a million and one things he does that continually raise my ability to value myself, not too much, but closer to enough; and reassure me that somehow, I am worthy of being loved. To have someone put up so well with all the crap I put them through, and still love me as much; and for all the important matters on which we think the same, I wonder, can I find something this amazing with someone else that will last the years?
I hope so.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
The Lost Hours
You know, I have a couple of topics to blog about, simply from this Monday past. It being 2:36AM on the following Tuesday, though, combined with two hours of sleep on Sunday night, all that I can focus on acutely is that heady feeling of being the only person awake right now. Of course, this is not the reality; in fact, many of you are going about in the daytime now, but here and now, in this silence, these electric lights and nighttime cool, it feels as though I've managed to find something no one else has; I have stayed up and hence discovered a secret, a special time that I, singularly, have broken into.
I know I have homework pending but that doesn't seem to matter. My brain passes over various memories, those that would usually be euphoric and intense reduced to a mere glossy fascination. This is a world of casual indifference, an inability to concentrate or process thought properly (thank you, sleep deprivation), but my, does it feel good. In that vague, secretive air this moment holds.
The sounds of a house creaking, occasional passing cars, humming of fridges and the deadness of it all - it all combines to create this deafening cacophony of near silence, which only rises to unbearable heights if focused on, till it feels as though one's ears are suffocating, the target of an immense pressure, not as when lifting off in a plane but frightening for its lack of logic. But then, sense has no place here, in this lost hour.
From under heavy lids refusing to acknowledge or bow, the view is different too. There is a dreaminess about it, perhaps the brain taking longer to recognise what it sees. A surreal aspect attaches itself to every normal sight, however familiar. Everything sunken in false yellow light, deeper pools of shadows than usual, sallow and aged, but not tired. No. More... used, like old books that have seen many a turning of a page.
It is the cold that cuts through, adding a dash of reality. Slicing through everything else, it is the unwelcome visitor to this time, and yet, it provides further that sense of "topsy turvy", a more sober Wonderland, at which Alice never quite arrived. Sending chills through the body in occasional waves, lapping gently but startlingly. And always, that pervading feeling of night, that darkness that persists even with these man made lights.
Nature has a way of penetrating everything. Man-made or otherwise; everywhere. A tendril creeps in, grabs hold, its lurking presence faint but definite. Our light cannot defy the night, not truly and after all, that is the way it should be.
In this, these lost hours, I feel as though being alone is not so close to being lonely. And perhaps that is the best gift of all.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
MLIG
Honestly, why haven't I been around?
Firstly, let me say that I've missed it, this whole blogging thing. The feel of community amongst those who have never met face to face or never would have if not for the blogosphere, that real friendship and all the laughs, all the stories. From those my age to those in their fifties and beyond, blogging has been an adventure. Now if it sounds as this is a retirement post, relax Max, it's nothing close.
I first began my blog almost eleven months ago. My blog and its audience and my blogging friends have changed drastically since those first days and weeks when I sobbed out my heart in HTML and custom font. Still a little too used to LiveJournal, perhaps. And with a heart in severe need of mending.
I hadn't realise I could hurt like that, feel so broken, so shattered. Not for so long. But then, I'd never thought those friendships could dissolve, and so rapidly, without any logical reason or explanation, in my eyes. A lot has changed and I think that those of you have been reading all this time could agree that I am a much stronger and resilient, even happier, person. Although I ceased my self harm in early July, it is this year that I have come to value myself even more highly, and learnt even more about acceptance, of myself and in every way of life.
I slip, a lot. Mood swings have been rampant these past weeks. Possibly a by-product of sleep deprivation. But, you see, le Boyfriend's parents have been away in Europe since August the 4th. And what would two teenagers not quite in love and carrying on a relationship without their would-be-disapproving parents' knowledge, do with this opportunity of an unsupervised house? No, not that... They would obviously spend as much as time as possible together at said unsupervised house... with clothes...
I hadn't realise I could hurt like that, feel so broken, so shattered. Not for so long. But then, I'd never thought those friendships could dissolve, and so rapidly, without any logical reason or explanation, in my eyes. A lot has changed and I think that those of you have been reading all this time could agree that I am a much stronger and resilient, even happier, person. Although I ceased my self harm in early July, it is this year that I have come to value myself even more highly, and learnt even more about acceptance, of myself and in every way of life.
I slip, a lot. Mood swings have been rampant these past weeks. Possibly a by-product of sleep deprivation. But, you see, le Boyfriend's parents have been away in Europe since August the 4th. And what would two teenagers not quite in love and carrying on a relationship without their would-be-disapproving parents' knowledge, do with this opportunity of an unsupervised house? No, not that... They would obviously spend as much as time as possible together at said unsupervised house... with clothes...
Cue a lot of lies - "Oh, mum I'm sleeping over at Jeorjette's/Shani's/Catherine's house tonight", a lot of close calls, far too much missed school than is sane whilst in one's final year of school, and considering the fact that it is Toivoa and Chip we're talking about here, a lot of crap and painful things including near break ups that has only resulted in us being even closer than before. We're talking car break downs, almost being caught sneaking out, accidental destruction of gifts, serious health problems, really bad jokes, some lengthy visits from that self destructive, heartless, psycho bitch side of me; and trust me, her showing up reminded me just how much I have not missed her.
The remainder of the time, I've been stressing about school and English teachers, not doing nearly enough work and discovering amusing sites such as MLIA, amazing sites such as MLIG and in particular, Gives Me Hope, which really does give me and a lot of other people hope. I've gotten my ears pierced, finally, been to a friend's formal, had le Boyfriend come to church with me, been drunk with le Boyfriend, and crossed a lot more items off on our make out list... I'll post it some time. I've banned myself from Facebook for a week, twice, and exploded Carbonara sauce in the microwave a couple more times than I'd like to admit. I've had the most dreadful arguments with the 'rents and missed friends like Raspberry Hatter and Elizabeth; wondered about Michael Rivera, hankered after reading a bit of Lilu, to name a few.
I've been missing people and been experiencing nostalgia for a past that I've never known, and my increasing "emotional chameleon" state is of likewise increasing intrigue to me. I've been out winning awards (well, only one, really) and buying books with the subsequent book voucher prizes, which I have then been too busy to read, or have misplaced somewhere in the house. I've been destroying phones and breaking stuff and getting down but somehow, never out. It's been bumpy, disheartening, but good. I am happy.
So why haven't I been blogging/reading/commenting? I'd like to say that I've been saving up blogging material for you all, but that would, unfortunately, be a lie. I've been lacking time and topics and the ability to write, as well as questioning whether I am truly cut out to create and sustain an entertaining blog, but I am going to say, with some trepidation, that I am back, and looing forward to this, you sexy sexy bloggers, you. And my posts shall NOT be as terrible as my previous few, I promise that.
But one more thing. I have another blog, which is pretty much exactly the same as this, but uncensored and without, well, at the moment, without anyone reading it, but without people-I-know reading it, therefore, a few extra posts you will never see here. I'd challenge you to find it but I'd love for it to have an audience asap, so drop me an email, yes, an email, and, I know, who the fuck uses email these days? Anyway, send me an email, and I'll let you know the password (or URL) to my cave of hidden wonders... /any sexual innuendo derived from that is totally a result of your own warped mind...
Oh and P.S.? (I know I said one more thing, and this makes two, but shush...)
I'm not in love, no, but I love Chip more than I can say (and trust me, you're going to be hearing rather a sickening lot about that in posts to come), and I can truly say that right now, he is the only one I want.
P.P.S. Just realised that I began this post with the line "Why haven't I been around?" Geez. Not to sound desperate to be slutty or anything, Toivoa. Besides, as I was telling Chip the other day, I'm too fucking good to be slutty, or a hooker, or a stripper. Problem? You be the judge.
The remainder of the time, I've been stressing about school and English teachers, not doing nearly enough work and discovering amusing sites such as MLIA, amazing sites such as MLIG and in particular, Gives Me Hope, which really does give me and a lot of other people hope. I've gotten my ears pierced, finally, been to a friend's formal, had le Boyfriend come to church with me, been drunk with le Boyfriend, and crossed a lot more items off on our make out list... I'll post it some time. I've banned myself from Facebook for a week, twice, and exploded Carbonara sauce in the microwave a couple more times than I'd like to admit. I've had the most dreadful arguments with the 'rents and missed friends like Raspberry Hatter and Elizabeth; wondered about Michael Rivera, hankered after reading a bit of Lilu, to name a few.
I've been missing people and been experiencing nostalgia for a past that I've never known, and my increasing "emotional chameleon" state is of likewise increasing intrigue to me. I've been out winning awards (well, only one, really) and buying books with the subsequent book voucher prizes, which I have then been too busy to read, or have misplaced somewhere in the house. I've been destroying phones and breaking stuff and getting down but somehow, never out. It's been bumpy, disheartening, but good. I am happy.
So why haven't I been blogging/reading/commenting? I'd like to say that I've been saving up blogging material for you all, but that would, unfortunately, be a lie. I've been lacking time and topics and the ability to write, as well as questioning whether I am truly cut out to create and sustain an entertaining blog, but I am going to say, with some trepidation, that I am back, and looing forward to this, you sexy sexy bloggers, you. And my posts shall NOT be as terrible as my previous few, I promise that.
But one more thing. I have another blog, which is pretty much exactly the same as this, but uncensored and without, well, at the moment, without anyone reading it, but without people-I-know reading it, therefore, a few extra posts you will never see here. I'd challenge you to find it but I'd love for it to have an audience asap, so drop me an email, yes, an email, and, I know, who the fuck uses email these days? Anyway, send me an email, and I'll let you know the password (or URL) to my cave of hidden wonders... /any sexual innuendo derived from that is totally a result of your own warped mind...
Oh and P.S.? (I know I said one more thing, and this makes two, but shush...)
I'm not in love, no, but I love Chip more than I can say (and trust me, you're going to be hearing rather a sickening lot about that in posts to come), and I can truly say that right now, he is the only one I want.
P.P.S. Just realised that I began this post with the line "Why haven't I been around?" Geez. Not to sound desperate to be slutty or anything, Toivoa. Besides, as I was telling Chip the other day, I'm too fucking good to be slutty, or a hooker, or a stripper. Problem? You be the judge.
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