There's so much I want to say... but none of it makes sense. None of it will come out.
Sometimes I lay next to you and the words run through my head. Words like 'good enough', 'eternally', and, of course, the dreaded 'love'.
My jaw clamps tight on them, because my mind shows me your reaction - and it's never good.
Stiff disinterest. Awkward silences. Sadness.
All of the things to be expected from being given a sight into the true thoughts, the true life of what I am. Opening my heart isn't easy, and sometimes I think it might be impossible.
Biting my tongue is an old habit. It comes from being told too much.
You let people open their pain to you, and it just keeps coming, and coming, and coming till you think you might break from being so filled with it.
The hardest part of bearing another's pain is knowing your own place in it. Often you hold their pain after you've not been there to prevent it from happening.
I'm nineteen, comforting my sister when her already over stretched jumper feels too tight around her throat; hearing her explain to someone else, in more detail this time, having the questions I didn't want answered explained in detail.
I'm just turned 20, and the boy I love pours out his need to die out into my own bleeding heart.
I'm 21 and I stop telling anyone but my closest friends what's wrong with me, or that it hurts. I'm scared of hurting anyone any more, just by sharing my problems.
I'm 22 and the only person I tell my weaknesses to lays next to me, and I see that he's already hurting so much from everyone else's hurts. He never lets it show, but it's there - hiding deep inside, where only a few of us get to see. I'd say only I see it, but I know it's not true.
He thinks it's not even there, that because he's still okay the pain isn't there - but it doesn't work like that. Just because you bear something doesn't mean it goes away.
So I bite my tongue, and I don't even mean to.
Our friend in France lets his pain over the loss he suffered show, and it shocks me - not because I don't realise it's there, or because I don't expect him to show it - but because I dreamt of my lost brother last night and woke in tears. Even in my dreams now, I know when I see him it isn't real. That kinda hurts.
But I couldn't say anything at the time. Couldn't acknowledge that I understood to some extent the pain he was going through. Partly because I feel like if I do, it's trying to claim his pain as my own - if that makes sense? - and I don't want to.
You have to own your own pain. There's sympathy, which you need... but you also have to feel the personal-ness of your own pain. When it blends into someone else's hurt it gets all tinted, tainted, and you half miss the original.
Maybe that's just me?
Maybe it's because of the feeling that your own experience is being brushed away when someone say's "Like this one time..." (do not finish that sentence in your head with 'at band camp' - PLEASE! I own a flute!! It's not RIGHT!!!). Sometimes it feels like instead of trying to relate to you, they just want an opening to talk about their own problem.
I never want people to think that about me. I never want to make someone feel that way - like they aren't important. Especially someone I love that much.
The poem he wrote really was beautiful.
I wish he didn't hurt so much, of feel so alone. I hope he knows that we're here for him - no matter what. I hope it's enough.
My other friend blogged today about people complaining unnecessarily.
Now, anyone who reads my blogs knows: I'm a complainer.
Nothing is too big, or too small, to complain about.
Nor is it ever too serious or trivial to joke about.
However, the kind of complaining he was describing is the sort that is ungrounded/ unsubstantial.
I look back on the things I've complained about this week:
It kinda hits home sometimes that my issues actually are kinda real/serious.
I always figure they're just silly, and that I should be over them all... but then I consider what category they fall under, and it's like "Damn, that's actually messed up."
This blog has been one of the things that helped me realise (and work through) the deeper problems I've had this past... decade... along with my best friend (who is great at kicking me up the ass, or making me think, or being there for me when stuff is just poop). I've gone from thinking that I just fail at life, to thinking that maybe things just haven't been that great, to thinking that I can actually get past all of the stuff that's happened in my life.
Finally being able to say no has been the biggest confirmation of that. Breaking the habits, the circle, the thought patterns. It's given me the boost I needed to be ME again. Me without needing someone else.
This past year I've been able to be me as long as I had someone to hold my hand, to back me up. The year before I only felt like me if I had my best mate with me. Now, finally, I'm starting to be able to stand on my own two feet and say "no, it's okay - I can do it!" rather than "I might be able to do it... but... can you stick around... just in case?" or "I can do it if you stand behind me..."
The worst part is, I never even noticed it. I never noticed that I needed a safety net. Not until it was taken away.
I didn't realise I could do it, work it out, make it on my own; until the person who normally helped me turned their back and made me do it on my own. The shock itself was probably enough to change my life.
I've probably given him a hard time for doing it - because it hurt at the time - but, in all honesty, I should thank him. Falling without a safety net made me grab hold of the tight rope and pull myself back up, rather than crying into the net and then climbing all the way back up to walk it again. I'm not fully stood on it yet, I'm still kinda clinging on upside down. But hell! If I can make it to the other side like this - or even just to the next platform - I'll take living upside down for a while. It's worth it to know that I can do it myself.
Check back in a few years and I might be doing this entire trick upside down on a uni-cycle. Or I might have moved onto the trapeze... you never know. Anything is possible. The sky's the limit - and by the sky, I mean the atmosphere of the outer regions of space somewhere - way beyond the milky way.
Now, if I can just get my assignments done and in on time (ha, that'll be the day), I might actually be able to say that this life is back on track.
The only problem with not being stuck in my head any more is that I can finally see the world; and I'm worried about my friends again. Mostly my boys. They both seem so sad. I know I shouldn't want to fix things, but I really would give anything to make them happy. They're the first guys my age to be intimately close to me while still making me feel respected and (odd as this may sound) safe. I haven't felt that way since I was 14.
So when they feel sad, I want to just make the world a beautiful place for them again - rub the universe clean till it sparkles with happiness.
(Excuse the odd imagery, I'm getting rather tired - I think it shows)
The hardest part is not being able to see them all the time.
Well, I get to see Li a lot... but Mat is so far away. I just know that if we were all together neither of them would be so sad. It's so frustrating.
Why can we not always meet nice people who live really really close so that we can see them whenever? Why do the most amazing people have to live a million miles away (exaggeration ftw)?
I felt this way over summer when my best friend was 4 hours and £96 away. The injustice of being wrenched away from the closest people you have because of funds, or study, or family obligations.... it's just the worst. It feels like if we were more 'grown-up' (read - not students) we'd be able to stay with the people we wanted to be with - rather than leave them to go back to our parents at the end of term. Rather than having to go to work in a different city. Rather than having to study in a different country.
We want to be together... so why can't we just stay together?
It feels like the biggest FAIL of this life. That the only people I make a true connection with - like, a lasting bond you never want to break - has to be stretched constantly thin.
I mean, my other, older best friend back from my home town - is ALWAYS too far away. We can't seem to get to spend time together any more than I can spend time with Mat. Yet, when we get back together, it's like the only thing that's changed is our individual stuff - our us is still there - still intact - just with less information about what's going on.
I mean, we're not going to be able to say - hey, your eyebrow is weird still from where you burnt it yesterday on that stick that we set fire to - when you haven't seen them. You're not going to be able to discern those day to day changes in them - like a scratch that wasn't there last night... but the ease, the comfort, the wanting to share is still there. It's nice.
I guess that's how things will be next year with Libor...
I mean, it's not so bad I guess. We'll always be best friends in that sense. It'll just be hard not seeing him every day, and knowing everything that's going on. Not being the first person he rings when something is either on his mind, or happening. Not the person I invite to every little social outing (from going to the shops to massive organised nights out). Not the person who I make tea for... at his own house. Not the person who dances in my kitchen with me. Not the one who's always there, and always knows everything about me.
But hey ho. Got months left before that happens.
He seems to want to wean us off each other by decreasing our time together, our 'dependence' on each other... but I just want to spend every possible minute with him. Make these last months really count. Take advantage of every second that we're not miles and miles apart.
I guess it's because I deal better with being thrown in the deep end - especially if I have good memories to hold onto during the splash and subsequent spluttering/dog paddling/ cursing at my bad diving.
We shall see though.
There's words that I let slip from my mouth often and freely. Words like 'love'. People think it's because I don't value what that means - but it's not that. It's just that I love so freely and quickly and openly.
But then you get how I feel about the closest friends I have... and words like 'love' just... they aren't enough. It's more than love. It's meta-love... it's macro-love... it's amour... it's adoration...
There's probably a word for it, a perfect word. A word that encapsulates the overwhelming feeling of nearness and comfort, the willingness to do anything for them... the knowledge that they are the most important people in the world and you'd happily lop off an arm or leg just to make them smile when they're feeling down. The people who you can't say no to. The people who suggest something stupid, and you do it - because you know that, with them, it'll be amazing, and fun, and worth it. They're your comrades in arms, your chuckle buddies, your family, your heart and soul...
The word love doesn't really mean that enough. Maybe I'm not explaining it right. I don't know. I just know that it feels bigger than the universe - so it must be bigger than love.
I talk about love a lot really.
It's the one thing in my life that guides every action (especially when I'm not lost in the darkness). It's the thing that makes my world turn - gravity wouldn't exist without love. Gravity is just the world wanting to give everything a big hug, and keep it near. We rotate round the sun because it's caught in a continual spin - holding our hands just tight enough to stop us flying away - because it's so happy to see us.
Love is what makes babies. It's what makes people hold doors open. What makes people become doctors, nurses, policemen, firemen, mothers, fathers, lawyers, businessmen... even if it's only love of money, love of self... it's still love.
Loving other people is the best kind of love. It's the sort that makes the world a better place. It's what makes a smile worth a million picture (which are each worth a thousand words).
Love just IS amazing.
It makes life what it is.
When I say the words "I love you." I often mean it in this universal way - the way that makes you part of my world, part of the great dance of life that means I want to hold your hand and dance with you.
Sometimes, when I say "I love you" I actually mean "I'm in-love with you" - as in, yours is the hand I want to hold forever in this dance we call life.
But it's up to you to work out which times are which!!
I'm going to go and finish my assignment now. It's the one where I write autobiographies in different styles - so I'll probably copy and paste them into the next blog. I was going to do it for this one, but my fingers kinda rattled out a lot of thoughts before I got round to it.
For now, I miss Veesham lots. I miss Mathieu too. I love that Libor has started doing long goodbyes again (feels like first year again!!). I can't wait to celebrate in green. Life is good - even though it hurts sometimes.
I hope your life isn't hurting too much right now.
Know that I'm always here if you need me.
I love you.
Blessed Be xx
Sometimes I lay next to you and the words run through my head. Words like 'good enough', 'eternally', and, of course, the dreaded 'love'.
My jaw clamps tight on them, because my mind shows me your reaction - and it's never good.
Stiff disinterest. Awkward silences. Sadness.
All of the things to be expected from being given a sight into the true thoughts, the true life of what I am. Opening my heart isn't easy, and sometimes I think it might be impossible.
Biting my tongue is an old habit. It comes from being told too much.
You let people open their pain to you, and it just keeps coming, and coming, and coming till you think you might break from being so filled with it.
The hardest part of bearing another's pain is knowing your own place in it. Often you hold their pain after you've not been there to prevent it from happening.
I'm nineteen, comforting my sister when her already over stretched jumper feels too tight around her throat; hearing her explain to someone else, in more detail this time, having the questions I didn't want answered explained in detail.
I'm just turned 20, and the boy I love pours out his need to die out into my own bleeding heart.
I'm 21 and I stop telling anyone but my closest friends what's wrong with me, or that it hurts. I'm scared of hurting anyone any more, just by sharing my problems.
I'm 22 and the only person I tell my weaknesses to lays next to me, and I see that he's already hurting so much from everyone else's hurts. He never lets it show, but it's there - hiding deep inside, where only a few of us get to see. I'd say only I see it, but I know it's not true.
He thinks it's not even there, that because he's still okay the pain isn't there - but it doesn't work like that. Just because you bear something doesn't mean it goes away.
So I bite my tongue, and I don't even mean to.
Our friend in France lets his pain over the loss he suffered show, and it shocks me - not because I don't realise it's there, or because I don't expect him to show it - but because I dreamt of my lost brother last night and woke in tears. Even in my dreams now, I know when I see him it isn't real. That kinda hurts.
But I couldn't say anything at the time. Couldn't acknowledge that I understood to some extent the pain he was going through. Partly because I feel like if I do, it's trying to claim his pain as my own - if that makes sense? - and I don't want to.
You have to own your own pain. There's sympathy, which you need... but you also have to feel the personal-ness of your own pain. When it blends into someone else's hurt it gets all tinted, tainted, and you half miss the original.
Maybe that's just me?
Maybe it's because of the feeling that your own experience is being brushed away when someone say's "Like this one time..." (do not finish that sentence in your head with 'at band camp' - PLEASE! I own a flute!! It's not RIGHT!!!). Sometimes it feels like instead of trying to relate to you, they just want an opening to talk about their own problem.
I never want people to think that about me. I never want to make someone feel that way - like they aren't important. Especially someone I love that much.
The poem he wrote really was beautiful.
I wish he didn't hurt so much, of feel so alone. I hope he knows that we're here for him - no matter what. I hope it's enough.
My other friend blogged today about people complaining unnecessarily.
Now, anyone who reads my blogs knows: I'm a complainer.
Nothing is too big, or too small, to complain about.
Nor is it ever too serious or trivial to joke about.
However, the kind of complaining he was describing is the sort that is ungrounded/ unsubstantial.
I look back on the things I've complained about this week:
- Sexual abuse
- Emotional abuse
- Flatmates leaving a literal mountain of washing up in the sink
- Mental abuse
- Stupid mistakes
- Loosing people
- Unrequited love
- Missing people
- Being unhealthy/unhealthily overweight
It kinda hits home sometimes that my issues actually are kinda real/serious.
I always figure they're just silly, and that I should be over them all... but then I consider what category they fall under, and it's like "Damn, that's actually messed up."
This blog has been one of the things that helped me realise (and work through) the deeper problems I've had this past... decade... along with my best friend (who is great at kicking me up the ass, or making me think, or being there for me when stuff is just poop). I've gone from thinking that I just fail at life, to thinking that maybe things just haven't been that great, to thinking that I can actually get past all of the stuff that's happened in my life.
Finally being able to say no has been the biggest confirmation of that. Breaking the habits, the circle, the thought patterns. It's given me the boost I needed to be ME again. Me without needing someone else.
This past year I've been able to be me as long as I had someone to hold my hand, to back me up. The year before I only felt like me if I had my best mate with me. Now, finally, I'm starting to be able to stand on my own two feet and say "no, it's okay - I can do it!" rather than "I might be able to do it... but... can you stick around... just in case?" or "I can do it if you stand behind me..."
The worst part is, I never even noticed it. I never noticed that I needed a safety net. Not until it was taken away.
I didn't realise I could do it, work it out, make it on my own; until the person who normally helped me turned their back and made me do it on my own. The shock itself was probably enough to change my life.
I've probably given him a hard time for doing it - because it hurt at the time - but, in all honesty, I should thank him. Falling without a safety net made me grab hold of the tight rope and pull myself back up, rather than crying into the net and then climbing all the way back up to walk it again. I'm not fully stood on it yet, I'm still kinda clinging on upside down. But hell! If I can make it to the other side like this - or even just to the next platform - I'll take living upside down for a while. It's worth it to know that I can do it myself.
Check back in a few years and I might be doing this entire trick upside down on a uni-cycle. Or I might have moved onto the trapeze... you never know. Anything is possible. The sky's the limit - and by the sky, I mean the atmosphere of the outer regions of space somewhere - way beyond the milky way.
Now, if I can just get my assignments done and in on time (ha, that'll be the day), I might actually be able to say that this life is back on track.
The only problem with not being stuck in my head any more is that I can finally see the world; and I'm worried about my friends again. Mostly my boys. They both seem so sad. I know I shouldn't want to fix things, but I really would give anything to make them happy. They're the first guys my age to be intimately close to me while still making me feel respected and (odd as this may sound) safe. I haven't felt that way since I was 14.
So when they feel sad, I want to just make the world a beautiful place for them again - rub the universe clean till it sparkles with happiness.
(Excuse the odd imagery, I'm getting rather tired - I think it shows)
The hardest part is not being able to see them all the time.
Well, I get to see Li a lot... but Mat is so far away. I just know that if we were all together neither of them would be so sad. It's so frustrating.
Why can we not always meet nice people who live really really close so that we can see them whenever? Why do the most amazing people have to live a million miles away (exaggeration ftw)?
I felt this way over summer when my best friend was 4 hours and £96 away. The injustice of being wrenched away from the closest people you have because of funds, or study, or family obligations.... it's just the worst. It feels like if we were more 'grown-up' (read - not students) we'd be able to stay with the people we wanted to be with - rather than leave them to go back to our parents at the end of term. Rather than having to go to work in a different city. Rather than having to study in a different country.
We want to be together... so why can't we just stay together?
It feels like the biggest FAIL of this life. That the only people I make a true connection with - like, a lasting bond you never want to break - has to be stretched constantly thin.
I mean, my other, older best friend back from my home town - is ALWAYS too far away. We can't seem to get to spend time together any more than I can spend time with Mat. Yet, when we get back together, it's like the only thing that's changed is our individual stuff - our us is still there - still intact - just with less information about what's going on.
I mean, we're not going to be able to say - hey, your eyebrow is weird still from where you burnt it yesterday on that stick that we set fire to - when you haven't seen them. You're not going to be able to discern those day to day changes in them - like a scratch that wasn't there last night... but the ease, the comfort, the wanting to share is still there. It's nice.
I guess that's how things will be next year with Libor...
I mean, it's not so bad I guess. We'll always be best friends in that sense. It'll just be hard not seeing him every day, and knowing everything that's going on. Not being the first person he rings when something is either on his mind, or happening. Not the person I invite to every little social outing (from going to the shops to massive organised nights out). Not the person who I make tea for... at his own house. Not the person who dances in my kitchen with me. Not the one who's always there, and always knows everything about me.
But hey ho. Got months left before that happens.
He seems to want to wean us off each other by decreasing our time together, our 'dependence' on each other... but I just want to spend every possible minute with him. Make these last months really count. Take advantage of every second that we're not miles and miles apart.
I guess it's because I deal better with being thrown in the deep end - especially if I have good memories to hold onto during the splash and subsequent spluttering/dog paddling/ cursing at my bad diving.
We shall see though.
There's words that I let slip from my mouth often and freely. Words like 'love'. People think it's because I don't value what that means - but it's not that. It's just that I love so freely and quickly and openly.
But then you get how I feel about the closest friends I have... and words like 'love' just... they aren't enough. It's more than love. It's meta-love... it's macro-love... it's amour... it's adoration...
There's probably a word for it, a perfect word. A word that encapsulates the overwhelming feeling of nearness and comfort, the willingness to do anything for them... the knowledge that they are the most important people in the world and you'd happily lop off an arm or leg just to make them smile when they're feeling down. The people who you can't say no to. The people who suggest something stupid, and you do it - because you know that, with them, it'll be amazing, and fun, and worth it. They're your comrades in arms, your chuckle buddies, your family, your heart and soul...
The word love doesn't really mean that enough. Maybe I'm not explaining it right. I don't know. I just know that it feels bigger than the universe - so it must be bigger than love.
I talk about love a lot really.
It's the one thing in my life that guides every action (especially when I'm not lost in the darkness). It's the thing that makes my world turn - gravity wouldn't exist without love. Gravity is just the world wanting to give everything a big hug, and keep it near. We rotate round the sun because it's caught in a continual spin - holding our hands just tight enough to stop us flying away - because it's so happy to see us.
Love is what makes babies. It's what makes people hold doors open. What makes people become doctors, nurses, policemen, firemen, mothers, fathers, lawyers, businessmen... even if it's only love of money, love of self... it's still love.
Loving other people is the best kind of love. It's the sort that makes the world a better place. It's what makes a smile worth a million picture (which are each worth a thousand words).
Love just IS amazing.
It makes life what it is.
When I say the words "I love you." I often mean it in this universal way - the way that makes you part of my world, part of the great dance of life that means I want to hold your hand and dance with you.
Sometimes, when I say "I love you" I actually mean "I'm in-love with you" - as in, yours is the hand I want to hold forever in this dance we call life.
But it's up to you to work out which times are which!!
I'm going to go and finish my assignment now. It's the one where I write autobiographies in different styles - so I'll probably copy and paste them into the next blog. I was going to do it for this one, but my fingers kinda rattled out a lot of thoughts before I got round to it.
For now, I miss Veesham lots. I miss Mathieu too. I love that Libor has started doing long goodbyes again (feels like first year again!!). I can't wait to celebrate in green. Life is good - even though it hurts sometimes.
I hope your life isn't hurting too much right now.
Know that I'm always here if you need me.
I love you.
Blessed Be xx
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