Isolation @ MindSay

Here's to you, O Fellow Smoker, sitting in your plastic chair and sparking up a fag, just like me, right outside your apartment door, just like me, not ten feet away from me, not three drags ahead or behind me. Here's to you, determinedly looking away--but for surreptitiously curious glances--from every other living thing, just like me, and fiercely refusing, like me, to make conversation. Inevitably, one of us stands to leave, glancing awkwardly, nearly apologetically, at the five or six others also indulging in our sick, carcinogenic ritual. someone grunts, unimpressed, in dismissal and the cigarette-finisher leaves. Heres to us, the cancerous isolationists; may our silence weigh heavier with every drag and may it not be quelled with the snubbing of the cherry.

I can't really say that I'm in a good mood today. Maybe I'm PMSing again. Who knows.

Happy Easter, I s'pose.

I changed my default font colour from red to white, because I remembered this morning that the colour red releases off angry chemicals or hormones or something. There was too much red on my blog anyway.

Yesterday I woke up and started crying in the morning. I stayed in bed until the late hours of the morning. It took me great effort to motivate myself to actually get up and out of bed. When I did, I remained down in the dumps for most of the day. It was sunny out. I slept most of my afternoon. I went for a small walk outside by myself, knowing that sunlight and light in general releases what I call "happy" chemicals in the brain. It didn't work. Mom took note of how I was feeling, but she did nothing about it. I wrote a poem yesterday, I slept, and I went for a walk. Nothing I did made me feel any lighter or happier. I even told mom to not answer the phone if it was for me (Vicki tends to call on a daily basis), because I had a 0 tolerance for people. Even today, I still feel the same way.

I feel like breaking something. I feel like punishing myself for no good reason. I still feel angry, like yesterday. I don't want to be around anybody at all. I like being isolated. I like it when I'm all by myself. That way my mind wanders to a distant place where I can be who I want to be, where I'm pain-free, and where I can do whatever I want without feeling anything afterwards.

Today, Easter Sunday - I was dragged to church. There was no point in me going. There's no point in me doing anything in relation to religion now, I've discovered. Might as well "savour" my time while I'm here on this cruddy earth.

I don't even know what to DO with myself anymore.

The fam and I are going out to dinner tonight at this restaurant here in town. I'm not even hungry.

Vickilyn Elizabeth says:
*hey
Emily says:
*Hi
Vickilyn Elizabeth says:
*whats up?
Emily says:
*Nothing.
Vickilyn Elizabeth says:
*same here
*just really upset
Emily says:
*Oh.
*Why?
Vickilyn Elizabeth says:
*cuz Jocelyn told me something about Bert
Emily says:
*Eh.
Vickilyn Elizabeth says:
*yeah and that hes bullshiting me right now
Emily says:
*Well. What did she tell you.
*You should never trust what other people say about other people, unless you REALLY REALLY REALLY trust them.
Vickilyn Elizabeth says:
*yeah i know, she said that she was hanging out with them last night and she was saying how they are still together and all that shit
Emily says:
*Hm.

I`m about to tell her to leave me alone for stinkin' once.

...Why can't she just talk to somebody else about it? She's a social butterfly. It's not like I`m the ONLY PERSON in the stinkin' universe. I've been getting odd feelings lately. Maybe it`s anger. But I've never felt hostility to many people before.

Even yesterday, I nearly snapped at somebody for some odd reason... But I learned to hold my tongue. This feeling I get of wanting to bite people`s heads off keeps reoccurring and I don`t know what to do about it.

I'm so annoyed and miffed. I don't know how to get rid of it. Cutting used to help me get rid of it, but I've sworn to stop.

Hrm. I'm getting these odd feelings that I might have a mental disorder. Great, if so, that'll be GREAT news for my mother. I'm already messed up enough, and as imperfect as she never wanted me to be. I never came out to be like she wanted me to from the start. Why not just add something else to the mix?

In English, we received the novel I was touching on earlier. I really don't like it, and it doesn't help matters that we're supposed to read thirty pages each day...

My grandmother was driving me home, and we had a bit of an 'interesting' conversation... My former friend waved to me as we drove by, as she usually does.
G: What school does your friend go to?
Me: Not mine. A different one.
G: Oh.
Me: And she's not my friend. She thinks still is, but to me she's not.
G: How come?
Me: I don't know. She keeps thinking that she's still with me, but I keep shutting myself out.
G: What's the matter?
Me: Nothing, Grandma. It's the same with every friend I get.
G: What's the same?
Me: The routine. I'm never top priority to anyone. ...You know how everybody has that 'best friend'?
G: Yes.
Me: Well, I don't have that rank to anyone. I'm a friend, but I'm not an absolute 'best' friend.
G: Well, that's life.
Me: Not to many that I know. It's just something I've come to understand. It's like a routine, the regular feelings I get in the end.
G: What feelings?
Me: The betrayal; me always getting replaced by somebody else.
G: Oh, that's just because you're a good girl.
(That doesn't make any sense...)

---

My mother says that I don't have any 'best' friends because I keep shutting them out even though they want to be my 'friends'. I don't know why she blames me for it. She says that I like being alone, and I do - I'm somebody who just keeps to herself and doesn't like to be 'disturbed'. I just feel uncomfortable around people. I close myself off, not allowing anyone to get too close because of what has happened to me in my past. Really, is having a past really that much of a good thing? I would be satisfied to forget much of my past, if the chance ever arrived.
I shut people off and close the door because it's a protective mechanism. I feel if I take risks that I'll just get hurt in the end; encircling the same old routine once more. I'm not a risk taker anymore. I can't bear to get hurt anymore. Even though some odd people think I'm always "so strong"... I'm not. I'm just not. I keep everything bottled in until the bottle gets knocked over and I break down and cry, and I cry so hard. Sometimes I wonder the point of actually making friends. I wouldn't be able to survive or cope without them, but at the same time it feels like humanity just likes to deprive me of its company and split my heart open with daggers.

I am telling you that it is not your fault... that you have done nothing wrong.... I am telling you that you have nothing to be sorry for or to feel badly about.   I love you and you are the only real best friend I have ever had, and I cherish you - everything about you.  I don't want my crap to put a wall between us....   

 

I’m not saying that this has nothing to do with the way I immediately shifted gears upon Dan’s arrival. Everything about the way I spent my time – working, not working, the way I planned, the way I expressed pretty much everything immediately shifted.  But, that wasn’t your fault.  It was just a reality check for me. I suddenly felt very alone in the world.  That is not your fault either.   The reality is that I AM alone in the world. Really.

 

This is not about Dan.  I am nearly a middle aged lesbian, who has made a series of poor choices all across the span of the last 20 years. And I have no one to blame for those choices but myself.   My life in no way resembles what I imagined it would at this stage of my journey.  I have had the good fortune to be deeply and completely loved by some very worthy and wonderful people.  I’ve had the world offered to me on a pedestal, figuratively speaking, of course – a few times.   But, I’ve always been looking for the total package, not seeing it right in front of me – until it was forever gone from my grasp.  That’s me, always a day late… always seeing in retrospect what I couldn’t see standing right in front of me.  Always fighting off the one that I should have been fighting for.  Always fighting… and I am sooo tired.  So tired.   I want to just give up sometimes.

 

The reality of me is that I am the things that I despise in other people.  I am the sensitive one who wears her heart on her sleeve.   I am the one who is scared, the one who is vulnerable, the one who  dreams and who only wants to be loved more than life.  I am the one who longs to be held and cherished… the one who falls apart in private.  I am the one who no one ever really sees – they never have, and so I learned to trick myself into believing that it was my choice and that I intentionally hide.  It was an excuse created to make myself feel better.   I cry if someone looks at me wrong.   I cant STAND to think someone is upset with me.  I worry about everything and it drives me crazy.  Yet, I am the one who masks all of those emotions with every wall, every layer and ever hard core exterior that I can find in order to keep anyone from seeing that inside, I am just another bleeding heart sap.

 

There are soooo many things I am dealing with right now and part of it is that I had a wake up call - that I needed  - and they are never fun.  In fact, I have had about 4 wake up calls in a short period of time.  

 

There's a Hindu practice of cleansing that I am giving into right now so that I can bounce back from the lessons of my teacher -- I'm letting it consume me, whatever that will mean.  I want to feel this, as unpleasant as it is, because I’m really tired of pretending that I don’t feel…    I think I feel more than most… and stuffing it is killing me.