What started as fun, and progressed to love, has become bitter and hatefull.
My fists clench as the message passes before my eyes; new waves of anger crashing over my head.
The words themselves have no real malice or meaning, just the same reiterance of a tired old line that had nothing to do with the conversation to start with.
I'm used to this feeling, but normaly I force it away and let it pass before replying. Today my grip on self control slips and a torrent of hatred pours forth. I blame him for everything - something I've only just realised.
The language becomes littered with swearing and typo's and slang. Every harsh reply I've ever bitten back finds its way into the whirlpool of words, every reply he sends working me further into the fit of pure unadulterated rage.
If we were face to face I would have punched him by now. I let him know that I'm on the brink of coming to his and hitting him.
Somehow it turns into a joke, and all of the anger just dissipates.
I try to grasp at the embers of the burnt out fire that was raging inside me, but it doesn't even feel warm anymore.
I sigh and log out.
I've never wanted to be angry at someone that much before. Never clung to it like a shield. Part of me knows it's because she would approve of it, and right now I need her approval in something... anything...
My mind wanders back to when everything first started - how things had gone from bad, to worse, to better, to amazing... back to bad.
I remember the blind date that I couldn't go on, and wonder how it would have been different. Wonder how it's different to ending up with someone you barely knew to start with.
The pattern of love has become one I can't stand. Starting off good, and moving slowly into euphoria... it always ends up in this pit of misery and pain. Why is that?
It always ends with abuse and tears, it always ends with me breaking.
Are all men the same?
Are all people the same?
I hope not.
Today I can hope again. I can see through the fog far enough to walk, so I'll walk on.
Love is a hell, a torture that we all crave...
Blessed be xx
Wednesday 3 November 2010
only silence
There comes this point, where the only thing left is the silence. But this silence is just filled with things I'm dying to say.
There's the same tension from him, his silence echoing back my lack of resolve.
I hold myself silent, unwilling to upset what little balance is left
But inside...
I don't know how any of this happened. I keep looking back and I just can't retrace my foot steps as to how I got to this place. It's as if the lights have all turned off and I just can't see anymore.
Mad at me... so simple... but I don't understand.
There's this point where you stop thinking straight and just start looking for reasons everywhere. Did I say this wrong? Did they not like it when I did that? It eats you up and then spits you out.
Into the belly of the beast and out the demons ass...
The worst part is, no one else can explain it to me. Worse than that, no one will.
There's no "X + Y = Z". There's no simplicity left to it... and it makes me shake with surpressed tears.
This is how she felt.
That's all I can think. She felt exactly like this, and didn't understand... couldn't see what she'd done wrong... couldn't see anything.
I just can't deal with being frozen out like this. The person who is my other half, the one who I share everything with, the one I've never fallen out with because there's nothing to ever fall out about... has fallen out with me and wont say why.
I'm left here with a bundle of questions, and some oddly bound duty to hold them inside.
Not to devolve into tears and the plea of "What have I done?"
Not to turn the pain into anger and rage against it.
To stand, and wait, and hope. Hope that it's all just temporary. All just a false alarm.
So why does this alarm ring in my head - the warning of an end?
Fear is gripping me, that's why I lay here in bed and shake.
Why is it so scary?
Maybe because (as you can tell) I'm unravelling at the seems without my friend. Because it hurts more than words can say to think I've hurt the one person who is more me than I'll ever be. Because, without him, there doesn't seem to be anything else.
It sounds like melladramatics. It probably is. So why can I not force it away into it's little rational box? Why can I not stay calm, and think straight, and be human?
I have never been able to imagine a future without my best friend, and now I'm being shown this image of a life torn from him. A life left void without the colour and light that has always followed him.
I sound like a love sick puppy. Embarrassing, indecent, uncomfortable... but I don't care if that's what it sounds like. These feelings wont be contained anymore.
I can't sit and smile and make conversation and act like I'm okay.
I can't pretend I'm not obsessed with the thought that the only person who knows who I really am might hate me. Because, if they do, that must mean I'm not a good person. That must mean that the good person is the fake one, and the real one is...
The silence is only ever a mask. A mask over a tumble of thoughts and emotions too complex, or confidential, to explain.
They talk of a comfortable silence - but that's only when none of the thoughts or emotions NEED to be explained. When they're just implicit.
This silence stretches on in a vigil through the night, keeping me awake by thundering in my ears.
There's the same tension from him, his silence echoing back my lack of resolve.
I hold myself silent, unwilling to upset what little balance is left
But inside...
I don't know how any of this happened. I keep looking back and I just can't retrace my foot steps as to how I got to this place. It's as if the lights have all turned off and I just can't see anymore.
Mad at me... so simple... but I don't understand.
There's this point where you stop thinking straight and just start looking for reasons everywhere. Did I say this wrong? Did they not like it when I did that? It eats you up and then spits you out.
Into the belly of the beast and out the demons ass...
The worst part is, no one else can explain it to me. Worse than that, no one will.
There's no "X + Y = Z". There's no simplicity left to it... and it makes me shake with surpressed tears.
This is how she felt.
That's all I can think. She felt exactly like this, and didn't understand... couldn't see what she'd done wrong... couldn't see anything.
I just can't deal with being frozen out like this. The person who is my other half, the one who I share everything with, the one I've never fallen out with because there's nothing to ever fall out about... has fallen out with me and wont say why.
I'm left here with a bundle of questions, and some oddly bound duty to hold them inside.
Not to devolve into tears and the plea of "What have I done?"
Not to turn the pain into anger and rage against it.
To stand, and wait, and hope. Hope that it's all just temporary. All just a false alarm.
So why does this alarm ring in my head - the warning of an end?
Fear is gripping me, that's why I lay here in bed and shake.
Why is it so scary?
Maybe because (as you can tell) I'm unravelling at the seems without my friend. Because it hurts more than words can say to think I've hurt the one person who is more me than I'll ever be. Because, without him, there doesn't seem to be anything else.
It sounds like melladramatics. It probably is. So why can I not force it away into it's little rational box? Why can I not stay calm, and think straight, and be human?
I have never been able to imagine a future without my best friend, and now I'm being shown this image of a life torn from him. A life left void without the colour and light that has always followed him.
I sound like a love sick puppy. Embarrassing, indecent, uncomfortable... but I don't care if that's what it sounds like. These feelings wont be contained anymore.
I can't sit and smile and make conversation and act like I'm okay.
I can't pretend I'm not obsessed with the thought that the only person who knows who I really am might hate me. Because, if they do, that must mean I'm not a good person. That must mean that the good person is the fake one, and the real one is...
The silence is only ever a mask. A mask over a tumble of thoughts and emotions too complex, or confidential, to explain.
They talk of a comfortable silence - but that's only when none of the thoughts or emotions NEED to be explained. When they're just implicit.
This silence stretches on in a vigil through the night, keeping me awake by thundering in my ears.
Monday 1 November 2010
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times
Halloween.
Two weeks of planning. Four hours implementation; of latex application, painting, powdering, adding detail here and there. One red, one dead... all we need now is a redemption...
The joy of creating a zombie peters out though, and the blob of red in the mirror is almost too much to take.
The zombie finds his red demon, trying to talk herself into leaving her room, into not feeling like curling up in bed and never getting out of it. Normally he's a comfort, so why is it that she shys from him now? His hand comes up to cup her red cheek, and she turns away, practically flinching. I don't want you to see me like this. There are tears threatening to ruin her blushing skin, but he holds her in a state of perplexity and slowly convinces her to come out.
Soon they're at the next house on the list, painting faces, applying nails, drinking...
Everyone is having fun, so why does the fight start? It's just a game, but it turns real too quickly. She hides again, when no one is looking. Found again, this time with white eyes and cheeks where salt water has washed her red skin away. Again, she backs away from his touch. Again, she sees the confusion and hurt in his eyes. Again, she agrees to come out - but the damage is done. She's seen to much to believe her friend is still alive under the transformation, and knows that if it's true it's her fault.
Red pixies must cry on the inside; at least for the night.
You know what, I always thought that it was a paradox to say that it was the best of times and the worst of times. But I think I'm starting to understand.
The thing with life is that it's not one thing at a time. Maybe Tolstoy had an idea of quantum theory all those years back, where things are not either/or but both/and. Maybe not.
Still, it's interesting how our highs and lows not only flow into a progressive sequence, but also occur simultaneously.
It's hard to think of an example - but it's kinda like this:
You can spend your time with someone who makes you feel SO happy, who can make life seem like it can't possibly get any better; who makes you feel on cloud nine, filled with ecstasy. But at the same time you constantly have to remember that you can't be with that person in any intimate way - ever. That pain is like being dragged backwards through hell. But they're both happening at the same time. The best and the worst all rolled into one.
I don't know if that's real or not... it's just the best example I could come up with on short notice.
But it's like this year at uni. It's been the best and worst time of my life! I have this amazing flat full of incredible girls who I can laugh or cry with, I have all these friends who I spend so much time with, I'm enjoying my course finally, I'm feeling better and better about things... but on the other side of it there's my flat mates re-occurring suicide attempts, there's the fact that I have no money what-so-ever and may not be able to pay my rent next month, there's the over-bearing weight of the work load that's crushing me, and there's the boy problem that I can't even begin to go into.
I've never been so conflicted.
You try and throw yourself into work, but it just doesn't work. Like there's a force field - bouncing you back into the abyss of confusion. You say it's not fair - but in reality, it's you that isn't being fair. You're not being fair on life for going along in a manner that makes everything so much harder - and then blaming it on life instead of you.
I know that my problems are self-originating. So why can I not fix them?
Hmm...
Blessed Be xx
Two weeks of planning. Four hours implementation; of latex application, painting, powdering, adding detail here and there. One red, one dead... all we need now is a redemption...
The joy of creating a zombie peters out though, and the blob of red in the mirror is almost too much to take.
The zombie finds his red demon, trying to talk herself into leaving her room, into not feeling like curling up in bed and never getting out of it. Normally he's a comfort, so why is it that she shys from him now? His hand comes up to cup her red cheek, and she turns away, practically flinching. I don't want you to see me like this. There are tears threatening to ruin her blushing skin, but he holds her in a state of perplexity and slowly convinces her to come out.
Soon they're at the next house on the list, painting faces, applying nails, drinking...
Everyone is having fun, so why does the fight start? It's just a game, but it turns real too quickly. She hides again, when no one is looking. Found again, this time with white eyes and cheeks where salt water has washed her red skin away. Again, she backs away from his touch. Again, she sees the confusion and hurt in his eyes. Again, she agrees to come out - but the damage is done. She's seen to much to believe her friend is still alive under the transformation, and knows that if it's true it's her fault.
Red pixies must cry on the inside; at least for the night.
You know what, I always thought that it was a paradox to say that it was the best of times and the worst of times. But I think I'm starting to understand.
The thing with life is that it's not one thing at a time. Maybe Tolstoy had an idea of quantum theory all those years back, where things are not either/or but both/and. Maybe not.
Still, it's interesting how our highs and lows not only flow into a progressive sequence, but also occur simultaneously.
It's hard to think of an example - but it's kinda like this:
You can spend your time with someone who makes you feel SO happy, who can make life seem like it can't possibly get any better; who makes you feel on cloud nine, filled with ecstasy. But at the same time you constantly have to remember that you can't be with that person in any intimate way - ever. That pain is like being dragged backwards through hell. But they're both happening at the same time. The best and the worst all rolled into one.
I don't know if that's real or not... it's just the best example I could come up with on short notice.
But it's like this year at uni. It's been the best and worst time of my life! I have this amazing flat full of incredible girls who I can laugh or cry with, I have all these friends who I spend so much time with, I'm enjoying my course finally, I'm feeling better and better about things... but on the other side of it there's my flat mates re-occurring suicide attempts, there's the fact that I have no money what-so-ever and may not be able to pay my rent next month, there's the over-bearing weight of the work load that's crushing me, and there's the boy problem that I can't even begin to go into.
I've never been so conflicted.
You try and throw yourself into work, but it just doesn't work. Like there's a force field - bouncing you back into the abyss of confusion. You say it's not fair - but in reality, it's you that isn't being fair. You're not being fair on life for going along in a manner that makes everything so much harder - and then blaming it on life instead of you.
I know that my problems are self-originating. So why can I not fix them?
Hmm...
Blessed Be xx
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