I remember a thousand things I used to DO. I remember canoing across the lake in Maine or motorboating to the ice cream shop or the bog. I remember catching fireflys on the campus at Columbia (my father's little twist on it was that instead of keeping them in the jar they were given to a colleague for research purposes.) Jesus it's all flooding back and it hurts so much to understand how long it has been gone.
I miss things both simple and complex, large and small. I miss going into town for a creller along with having somebody to talk to when I was scared. I miss watching him fry up soft shell crabs in our apartment along with direction in my life and rules that I didn't have to make up myself. I miss occasionaly playing video games with my father along with feeling that the world was safe and normal. I miss so fucking much and I am hurting right now.
I am so desperatly fundementally alone at this point that I just want to fade away into the woodwork. Life has the potential for so much pain that lasts for such a long time. Seven fucking years, a lifetime for some a prison stint for others. It's coming on eight soon.
The amount of time I have floundered directionless with a feckless mother and a dead father. I had so much potential...where did it go? I used to be sweet and ambitious and hopeful and kind.
Seven and a half years can change a person. I know that. Now I'm bitter and closed and stupid and lost.
And the thing that scares me to the core is that I DON'T have any idea of how to get it back to good. I used not to care about grades because they didn't matter, but once you don't have anyone to tell you're special anymore things change. How do you improve yourself when you have nobody to value you but yourself? How do you make the effort needed to change when there's nobody to watch?
I've been alone for so long and I don't want to be but I have no idea how to make that so. And now in my city 5,000 or more other kids are waking up about to learn what not having one parent and having the other be a broken bitter shell MEANS. I am crying for them a little but mostly for who I was and what I have become.
I know the words you're supposed to say. Things like "A blue sky doesn't seem so blue without you without you" but nothing makes it alright and I have nowhere to turn. I'm spinning, god I'm spinning right now. The battered, the broken, the tired, the tearful, we are legion. Even in the greatest richest nation on earth people still hurt eachother and themselves at a breakneck pace. Even when we're civilized we're just vicious, petty, animals. We don't rise above, we gleefully sink below and once under we prod upwards to hurt those who are now above us.
Most people would rather have a 20 inch TV and have their neighbors have no TV than have a 25 inch TV and have their neighbors have a big screen. What does that say about us as a species or a culture? Are freedom and conscience and HAPPINESS all compatible? I see all those people out there connecting through doing fun things, fun dangerous bad things like drugs or vandelism, and I DO envy them because they have people to do those things with. People to talk to. People who, to some extent or another, care. And I used to have that but I DON'T anymore and right now I am yearning for that more deeply than I have in years. I am trying so hard to break away from what I have become, to turn back into who I want to be, but if it hurts this bad.....I just have to hope that it doesn't all hurt this bad.
I've tried to do so much to ignore this hurt. I've tried spending massive amounts of money. I've tried an addiction to Everquest (a video game that I used to play huge amounts of including several 30+ hour stretches, which really accounts for a period of my life and is something that I feel bad about but can't ignore. I haven't touched it in months even though I want to because once I broke that addiction the energy to actually do it vaporized) Nothing seems to work for me. Therapy is just a laughable shadow of any sort of connection.
"Go hang out in bookstores" Jeff says
Sometimes I do want to punch him in a meaningful way. To dent his ribs so he can understand the extent of my anguish and isolation. Because striking up an idle conversation feels SO fucking pointless when the other person has a whole web of contacts and aquaintances and loves and family to fall back on. Because I'm not LIKE them and I'm not loveable and they won't call.
This is garbled. Fuck you for thinking that. Fuck you for not reading this far. Fuck you for reading this far. Just generally fuck you reader for being happy. I'm trying not to be mean anymore, trying hard, but I don't want sympathy or pity or any more halfhearted pats on the back. And I've given up on finding results so I'm just going to cry some more right now...is that alright with you? Are you deluded enough to think I care whether it is or not?
I'm running out of words but not out of hurt. I have to pull myself together, get my feet under me and walk, crawling on bloodied knees, to class. I have to sit down in class and study words and ideas for a future I don't believe in. For my future as a soulless abombination providing nothing more than economic vigor for the people who matter. A loveless worthless manmachine.
I wasn't always like that. There were days in the past when I loved the sunshine and climbed over haystacks and tried to suck the honey out of honeysuckle.
I've been alive for almost 20 years now and it's been almost 8 since I've truly lived.