When the mind can hold no more…

I just wanted to share this…I know I am not perfect and although I think of suicide all day long, and fantasise about how I will do it, and though I can almost taste the sweet rest I long for…I know I will survive this. And one day, I will be happy. Not the fake phony kind of happiness…but the kind that all of you have ever dreamed of like me. And I hope that together we will all see this day. I wrote this a year ago. I still feel this way every waking day of my life and I am still fighting.  I hope you are, too.

When the mind can hold no more…

…how does the body manage? Which is meant to be the crutch so the other could flourish? Work the body to the bone and keep pushing the limits, endlessly, for something…anything? Or is it the mind that is meant to be lavished…is it the experiences, the moments in life that take your breath away that refine the very you that you are?

I see some of both. Less of the latter. And I can’t help but…loathe the former. Maybe it’s because I am one of those people who takes every little grimace of one’s face during a conversation to heart, every tremor whispered in the words they speak as a sign that something is terribly wrong. People tell me I’m too sensitive. YEAH maybe I am. So what? There’s no reason to be so condescending. As much as it pains me, somewhere I see the beauty of it all. I like to think that I can see things that other people can’t, feel things that noone has the nerve to tread along, think the things everyone is too afraid to think of.

Then why am I so weak?

While I want to rejoice in all the love in the world, cry in joy for every new beginning blossoming and surely bearing promise of greatness…for every ounce of intimacy I share with those I consider friends, every kiss I savor…what is this I am feeling? Did you just shutter at my touch? Are my words so vile that you need a moment to prepare your train of thought into laughter? Or confusion? Are they really things that should never be mentioned. light hearted as they, amongst “good company”?

What is a friend?

How are you supposed to act with them? What is appropriate and what is not appropriate to say? Is it weird that I want to touch your cheek, to gently move the hair passed your eyes, and look at your brilliance in awe? Does that really make me “weird”? Unlovable? Awkward? Why can’t I kiss you, and tell you I love you, without thinking any sort of perversion. Isn’t that love, and isn’t that how a friend is supposed to act? Why suppress them? Why fabricate such nervous paranoia, such illusions?

Why am I afraid, then, if I feel this all, to act on it. I become paralyzed by those I want to love most. I become strange and defensive for all those I only wish tenderness between…I say mean things…they lash out of my mouth like venom, searing the minds my soul longs to embrace. I am nothing. Others think I feel nothing. My words are empty, can you hear me? They mean nothing, for they came from my mouth. Of all the hypocrisies, I think.

I try and try and try and try so hard to make friends, to do the things that a friend does, but I never win. I try to be nice, I try to help them, I try to let loose with them, and on some occasions I have been able to…on some occasions I have felt free, only to come to some conclusion they next that I was just thinking eccentrically and that indeed the feeling is not mutual. Damn. Even my writing style sounds cold and rigid.

I just want to talk. Someone to listen to me. I always listen to them and I think that’s why they revere me so…I’m the friend they want to talk to when someone hurt them or is feeling overwhelmed. When they want advice. When they want me, I am there. Always. And I’ve always thought highly of myself in such a sense. But then I’m constantly reminded, the days I am alone and nights I cannot sleep…who can I call? Who can I hang out with? Why do I even waste my mind thinking such pointlessness, I already know the answer is none. Noone hardly answers when they see that it’s me who’s calling. And if they do it’s awkward. At least for me. I get some reply through text, some through the interwebs…not much really. Not that I care, actually, not really that any of that means anything. It isn’t actually significant. The point is, whenever I want to talk…need to talk…feel like I am going to explode talk…there is noone.* And I am left, every night, to cry softly into my pillow for my lowly miserableness. I am a friend from afar, but not a friend to hang out with. Pathetic, ain’t it? And oh how emo I sound. But I don’t give a fuck.

You can go to hell. What are you to me, anyhow? Or really, what left me to such contempt is, what the hell am I to you? How does it make you feel to read this, I want to know! In a terribly selfish and sadistic way, I hope it hurts you! Just don’t see the weakness in me. As your friends, don’t listen to me, I’m just speaking nonsense…please don’t hurt. I’ve probably tried to tell you all this before, and I’m sure I failed. As soon as I start to talk I can feel your eyes…crawling on my skin…and I want to vomit. I stumble over my words…I probably began to cry, right in front of you, and you probably thought “Aww, it’s okay…you can tell me” but really, you knew not the pain from where my tears were wrenched. Am I hateful *****? Yeah I guess so. I’m sorry…kind of. All I do is think…and the more you think, really, the more you break shit apart, the less sense things become.

Am I crazy?

I don’t fucking know anymore. My thoughts don’t make any sense to me anymore. I want a meaningful life…I want to be fulfilled. I want…to know what I am doing has a purpose. Right now, there are so many lives and so little of them have any purpose at all. There are so many useless minds, walking around…was I meant to wonder the surface of the earth alone, with these…zombies? Mindless, but with much more slick a tongue than I, more witty, courageous than I, more determined, with more self-value and goals?? And they’re the zombies??? When I say this, then I feel perhaps I’m the zombie…but the way I think and feel how can that possibly be? My mind has been nothing but spat on, while the mindless drones glorified. The BULLSHIT they get sucked into…celebrity gossip OMG LOL fucking kill me right here, right now, because I don’t want to be a part of this.

Why this? Why now…?

I’ve been reading from an extraordinary person…see just typing those seven words brought tears to my eyes…and man…I wish it were real. I wish…that sort of compassion were true…I wish others wished it…it made me feel that I wasn’t crazy. The human psyche is far to complex for any one person comprehend….well, maybe one….and with that I don’t know what to do. I simply don’t know how to go about whatever it is is supposed to happened. I only wish I were as eloquent…I wish my thoughts manifested as beautifully…I am sick of being sick and despicable…I want to touch this beauty I keep hearing from somewhere inside of me, and not be a waste of existence. All the time I spend sullen and crying, truly, what good am I? Who could ever want my love, so sour and…diseased?

I won’t apologize anymore for it, I’ve done no wrong. I don’t care if posting such stupid thoughts and emotions on some stupid internet site is considered tacky, who the fuck are you the Goddamn Pope?!? I just want this hate gone. This emptiness. Gone.

This is long over-due…always I’ve thought about it but, being a slave I never would be useful without speech. I’m taking a Vow of Silence. After I post this, you will not get such posts from me again, until I find something…what I don’t know. But I hate my words and so I must stop them if I ever want to…figure it out. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. No more tech. Any and all thoughts I feel the need to express I will write down with a pen and a piece of paper.

Again I ask you…are we body or mind?

Have I never told you, I love you?

* Through all this there is only one genuine exception. My heart and soul, Daniel. The fun we have together is amazing…I wish I could share it with the world as easily as you, my love. But once we leave the sanctuary of our home together I became afraid and rigid…sometimes I accidentally give myself seizures in the panic. And I’m sorry you had to end up with me. But selfishly, I am glad you are, because you are the one person I can ever be just me. Not because its unwarranted elsewhere, but because…I’m not scared when I’m with you. I’m always totally, 100% free with you…you love and compassion is unparalleled…especially to mine. I am but a varlse, a mostrous beast, yet somehow…you would never let me know it. I love you.

PS.
Knowing enough about people, I bet you think this song is about you. That too. For once, it’s not. It never has been. This is not directed at any one person, or occasion. This is me. This is my mind, 24/7. These are the thoughts I eat, sleep, and bathe with every waking moment of my existence. Unless I am with him…so please, don’t be selfish; just take this exactly as it is…and if you don’t understand what I am getting at, leave it at that.

I went incognito for about a month after this. And…it felt kind of nice. I know it may sound like such a silly thing to do…but at this point, I wanted to find a way to cope other than hurting myself or the ones I love. This is how I chose to do it. It helped much then, and I’ve done it several more occasions and it tends to ease the stress…the pain is always here, but it definitely dulled the desire to end my own life. Perhaps it may help you as well. Good luck, and my sincerest love to you all.