This World

tsuyogatte, kizutsuita, kokoro sukashita you ni

All these thoughts of "going back" are beginning to weigh heavily on my brain. I long for some sort of passion to fill me as before, yet instead all I feel is pain. Or something worse. I still can't remember, but then again, I still haven't tried.
I've been looking for something good about this world that I'm stuck in. Honestly, I've been looking for years. And many times I've found it. Something wonderful. But its always fleeting, only for a moment. I'm not only talking of love - I've learned since there's more to it than that description. I feel like I've learned a lot yet still know absolutely nothing.
I just want to go home. But, barring that, I want to find something in this world that is worth standing and fighting over. Something that's worth giving up everything for. Some sort of release for all this energy inside me, left over from my time in my homeland, now trapped in the body of a human.
I can no longer feel passion for the things I used to, though it is the one thing that could save me.
I long for camaraderie, yet I'm too afraid to ask outright for it. Too afraid to seal another bond in case it is broken once more. All the things I had at home, all the things I miss, I am too afraid to have them here. This place is so different. And yet other times, I have found myself wondering, "what if Harrow is this world?"
I don't feel able to discuss it, or anything else with those around me. If I open myself up, others might open themselves up, and what if I don't like what I see? What if it is just one more disappointment after another?
I feel like giving up, and yet at the same time I feel like grabbing hold with all I have, and becoming how I used to be. Becoming my past self and then becoming a new and better person on top of that.
But I need to consider whether I'd be better off doing that alone...or if I should take a leap of faith and reach out.

Memories

I'm hoping this entry isn't as disjointed as I think it is going to be.

Something strange happened to me today. I was reading a book - one that I think will effect me greatly - and somehow I just slipped away. "Disociative state" is all I can think to describe it, but who knows if that is the right term or not. It felt as though I were falling back into a memory, or an experience, but for the life of me I can't figure out what it was. During that moment it was as if the world was bending, as if I wasn't quite...in the same one. It all looked the same, and yet wasn't. As it slowly shifted away from me, it seemed as though the only one in this "other world" was me. That brought some kind of fear, as, I was being taken away into another dimension and no one else around me was aware of it (not that I knew those around me, or even specifically wanted them to intervene).
Things like this have been happening to me more and more lately. I am worried for myself - though it seems as if its the type of worrying of a bystander looking in. A passing thought, not really integrated with my own mind. I read the term "passive suicidal" and I would like to believe this is not what I am, but a part of my worries because I am growing more and more like I was a long time ago.
It is not so much that I would like to die, but moreso that I would just really like to go home. Granted, the only possible way I am aware of to get there is by dying. This isn't something I tend to bring up a lot because I feel as though, even though they might listen and sympathize, no one will really understand it (and the one person who would, I can no longer talk to about it). From so long ago I can remember hoping, praying, wishing on stars - doing anything possible to get someone to take me from this world. To bring me home. No matter what it was always my wish.
Though, for some reason I can hardly remember those times (whether its just bad memory or me forcing myself to forget I do not know), I know this feeling all too well and that is part of what is stopping me from acknowledging it - trying to make myself forget the feeling even now. But I can't deny that I have been calling to him for help again. He visits me, every so often. Maybe he's given up on me because I keep pushing all thoughts out of my mind - I won't let myself remember or introspect or try at anything that could bring up stuff that is painful. But I call out to him. Please please please, just let me go home.
But as usual, there is no answer. Or rather, the answer is no.
I know I might benefit from trying to remember, from trying to talk to him, to them, and work all this out, but I'm so afraid of the pain. Maybe I'm not meant to remember. At least that is what I tell myself.

Yet I don't want to become my old self. I liked what I had become, but it seems to be crumbling away, and my fear won't let me do anything about it. I pray to go home instead of fixing my world here. (and a part of me asks if I even have a world here?) And I want him to talk to me like he used to, but another part of me won't let him because I'm afraid of what he might say. I'm instrumenting my own undoing, I just hope I can snap out of it before things go too far south.

7 months

Today marks 7 months clean. I know I'm being cryptic, but I think that most of you already know what I mean. Right now I am in a really good place, and keeping my mind off of things that might make me freaked out. I have had some close calls within this time but I'm really happy that I never relapsed even once. I actually had a scare, I had a dream a while ago that I slit my wrists, then I remembered the promise I made and got really upset while dying. I don't know what it is in my dreams, I always forget promises and commitments I've made until after I've transgressed.

In any case, that was just a dream. At the beginning, I never doubted that I'd be able to do it. A promise is a promise after all. I also never suspected that it would be so hard not to, at times. I hate being an addict. But for some reason I enjoy it too. I have an obsession with watching things about other addicts. They usually make me break down, but tonight they didn't. So I feel better. It might even be a week now since my last breakdown.

I was going to say that its also 7 months since my marriage ended, but that's not entirely true. In fact, my memories of that time are so blurry. Its often something I meticulously keep track of. The dates and times of endings and beginnings. But I hardly even have a memory of the events or when they occurred. I wanted to do a timeline, but either I'm afraid to remember back then, or I'm afraid that I WON'T remember. I'm also not sure that looking at my past is an important part of my recovery right now. I think the efforts could be better spent examining my present and the ever looming future.

I felt that I should write something to commemorate this, since its the first "anniversary" I've bothered to keep track of. So that I won't forget the process.

In any case, stay safe everyone.

Comrade.

I don't want to trust again.
I don't want to learn about someone else or form a new relationship of any kind.
I find it all so hard. And it all goes the same way. I don't want to give any part of myself to someone else because I know what its like when that backfires, when it goes wrong, when its given back.
I don't find anyone worthy. They all seem pointless, troublesome, tiresome to me...and yet when I do get to see inside them, see that they are more than their front, I despise them even more because they hide who they really are. And I might be doing the same thing, I don't know. I'm oblivious to how other people see me because I'm oblivious to other people.
I had a connection once, I had many connections, but I haven't kept them, one way or another. It scares me so much to try again. Maybe I'm doing all of this to hide from pain, from feeling anything. Because if I let myself get close again then I will be hurt again. There's no avoiding that.
And I always swore to myself I wouldn't become this person. I swore no matter how hard it got or how many times I got hurt I would keep going and keep believing. But I can't. I used to have so much hate inside of me, and I feel it coming back now. It doesn't help that I can't comprehend my emotions or even remember them from day to day. I don't know what's going on in my mind but it changes all the time. One moment I want to connect and the next I just want to be left alone.
I want what I'm looking for, but I don't know entirely what that is. I want it, but I don't want it. I want to push it as far away as possible. I wonder if I should try, if I can develop the love that's born from hate - or the hate that's born from love - the delicate mix of the two that feeds and destroys me. I don't want you, but only because you don't want me. I want you but you will cause me pain. And I can't have that again.
A good love affair begins with a comradery. You can't possibly expect to love someone who you wouldn't trust at your side in battle. And perhaps its my military past coming back to influence me, but that I truly believe. But can I trust someone enough again to let them have my life? I don't know.
I've become that person.
And I'm sorry.

I Am A Tree In A Forest

"There is no fictional epiphany, It was the moment I met her..."

I don't suppose I spend a lot of time thinking about why I write this blog. Or even if I should think about it. But I write a lot of things, to a lot of people - although some might never know it. I have notebooks, and blogs, all dedicated to different things. I wonder, am I a different person in each place I write? Or is it just many facets of my one self?
I write many things, I think, because they are the kind of thing that I would like to read, if I stumbled on it. A notebook left behind on a bus, or a school desk, can sometimes be a wonderful find. It makes you feel as if you know someone, even though you have no clue who they are. And maybe I want someone to feel that way about me.

Of course, I'll have no idea what they're actually feeling, if I do this right. But its the possibility being out there. Its the ability to exist in more than one being. The same way that sending in a secret allows someone to know you and yet...not know you.

I wonder if this is the only kind of relationship I can achieve. Anonymous and one-sided. But I don't mind it. I don't mind being in love with someone I have never met, talked to, heard about - someone who might not ever exist. Its an abstract idea but I've seemed to always be good at abstract thinking - when it suits me.

The words will keep pouring out of my mind onto the page, or the screen, and there's a chance that no one will ever read them. But I don't mind. Because there's always the possibility.

One In A Million Girl

Once again, sleep eludes me.

And I tell myself I won't do this, or rather, not to do this, because it isn't going to help with sleeping. But my mind always wanders, and sooner or later, it wanders to the past. I remember things that, I seem to have forgotten about until now. Amazing things. In my mind, at least. Things that, I never thought I would experience, yet somehow I did. And somehow I forgot. But maybe forgetting was for the better.

Because those things are over now. All those feelings are done, they will never happen again, she will never, forever, feel them. But they were feelings I wanted to last. That I needed to last. All those things she thought I would leave her for were all those things I thought she would leave me for. They were all the things that made me want to stay even more. Because above all else, they told me that she knew. She knew me. Or, she would. All I wanted was just someone who would understand. I found that, and I lost that.

This is the beginning of a very long and lonely life for me. I still have my family, my comrades, but what good do they do to the inner workings of my heart? If I can't even tell them? It's hard to get used to the thought that it will never happen again. That I will never be understood again. I'm not sure if anyone understands how hard it is to find a person like that in this world, and somehow I managed. But there are no more. It pains me, and it angers me, and it absolutely destroys me inside.

You know that feeling, when you are alone, and all you need is someone to hold you, but there is no one there? I'm going to have to get used to that. I imagine I will feel that way for the rest of my life.

Never Take Friendship Personal

I used to be a loner. Well, as those who know me (which is pretty much none of you), are aware, I still kind of am. But I used to be alone...all the time. I could go whole days without talking. Sure, people were around me - I was in class, or my mother was yelling in my face, or I was fighting with my siblings - but I was alone. And I'm aware how this sounds like every emo song ever written. But though I had friends...most of the time..and they were what I'd consider "close friends"...I could never talk to them about anything that was happening to me. Yeah, they knew about my mom, but I mean the things that were happening in my head.

I always longed for someone I could tell. Someone who wouldn't think I was crazy, or lying, or weird. That's what sparked a series of anonymous blogs, on various different websites. Hoping someone would stumble along and care, maybe talk to me about it. This is an example of one of those. But I've given up on that happening, by now.

Then there came the time when I finally found this person. She felt and saw the same things. Not my world, of course - someone from there is still just a wish - but she understood. And I could finally talk about it. Finally, I wasn't alone. I began to open up - though not fully, of course - into having truly close friendships. To put it bluntly, I had everything I'd ever hoped for. But just as I had realized this, just as I was basking in the warm glow of completion, acceptance - and love, of course. It ended. Having never experienced such a relationship before, Goddess only knows how I could handle such rejection. Having everything I wanted and then, having it all taken away. Something like that is not supposed to happen. I was supposed to be set for life.

And the friendships I had thought I could rely on fell apart too. I realized I meant nothing to them either, if I could not be what they expected of me. Because of this, if I wanted to keep them, I had to keep quiet. I couldn't say how my heart was breaking of my world falling apart - after having someone I could speak freely with, finally....I had to keep quiet once more.

So here I am, trying to adjust to the role that I lived for the first 17 years of my life. And its so much harder than I ever remembered.