i made the blog! i thought of a name randomly a couple of nights ago - something i used to tell A often in regards to our paintings and which i've kept in my analogy box all these years - and rushed to check if the URL is available, and i already wrote some posts! and i have a huge list of future post ideas to type up.
... and because it's about depression, it's understandable when i lack motivation to update it. ha!
and shit, like, this is my area of expertise. i wanted to think literature was (but as evidenced by the last comment i received on that blog, it clearly is not), but maybe this is it.
"pain is an old friend."
plus i can just copy-paste several of my entries from here, once i have the energy and emotional stability to comb through them. (the latter may be hard to find, lol.)
i feel so accomplished. for about five minutes, then the crying and loneliness and desolation spikes its way back in. yay.
i was told, once again, that we WILL go to my Happiest Place in the World again next summer. the thought made me smile in advance, in expectation of the happiness i'll feel there.
and then i made a deep cut and sat squeezing it shut for half an hour feeling really funny, like hot and lightheaded and questioning myself.
and even that didn't make me feel relief, make me sigh in a blissful way as i exhale slowly. it's a little similar to an orgasm, less violent but a bit similar. it made the muscles in my neck and shoulders relax for a moment. i miss that. my neck hasn't relaxed in months. (insert a joke about my head being too heavy to hold upright.)
that girl i used to fancy when i had scales on my eyes posted a photo of her using a mug i gave her a long long time ago, and it just... made me livid.
i keep wanting to tell her she doesn't deserve that mug; recycle it or give it to someone else but don't use it yourself (nor sell it forward; don't benefit from my stupidity any more!)!!!
i spent so much on her, money and time and effort, and i never even received a thank you. not once that one little word in exchange for my paying her groceries or giving her and her inane pal presents to make them like me. that's my mistake, ohh, i've learnt my lesson now.
i don't want to be the person who asks for their gifts back once a relationship is done and dusted, but i really also don't want her to continue using and enjoying the products of my fallacies.
you were rude to me, you were a terrible and twisted friend - you don't deserve presents i gave out of love! (i am not saying i'm blameless - it just isn't the point of this specific topic right now.)
i just stew in my own dislike and hope for karma to come.
i don't like this part of me, but suppressing her isn't good for me at all. thankfully there's LJ - no one in my new current life reads it and the ones who knew of it have long moved on.
i was going to write a post about how to fail embarrassingly at killing yourself (trust me, i'm an expert on this!)
but i don't want to give anyone (else apart from myself) tips on how to succeed.
i (used to?) think we all have a purpose here, to be fellow humans to one another, sources of comfort and companionship and solidarity of handholding and laughter and light and love. i don't want to give someone tips on how to stop fulfilling their purpose abruptly (but then there's the part of me that knows the excruciating pain existence can be and wants to spare people from that, too... ugh. why are these issues never simple and clear‽). and maybe the reason that they're still here is because their "mission"/purpose/whatever hasn't been fulfilled. if you fail at killing yourself it's not a failure, it's your guardian angel / the Universe yanking you back up like "hold on, you still have so much light and love to give and to receive!"
i think i kind of maybe want to have a purpose too or at least believe i have one. that maybe i'm just flailing right now and failing to find my own.
like i wrote so many years and lifetimes ago, Death really is the ultimate get-away car.
i spend my nights watching Friends on Netflix and the theme song really feels like a jab right now
i sing along up until the chorus, because hey;
so no one told you life was gonna be this way (clap here!) your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's d-o-A it's like you're always stuck in second gear oh, when it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year...
IT. ALL. FITS. (i particularly like how DOA can mean several things because of A.)
people keep touching my left arm a lot when they're being affectionate.
I don't mind, not most of the time, because the touches are light and well-meaning, but I find it funny in a slightly weird manner. I don't mean that people think "oh I'll touch her in THAT place" at all, but I'm pretty sure all these people are aware of my little habit.
my favourite instructor made me sit on her lap some weeks ago and hugged me, and places one of her hands on my left arm. I let it be - I only fretted about being too heavy and too old, and then too emotional. hers was a light, soft, protective touch.
or the other day when my world came crashing down and I had to call a friend to pick me up or I'd die, she petted me on my arms a lot. the same thing as above: a soft caress never did me any (physical) harm.
and once, many many weeks ago, my shitty "friend" (who was my fiend at the time, though) suddenly grabbed my left arm to say something empathetic to me, but it hurt and I winced and tore my hand free and she got all condescending on me, "what have you DONE?" ugh.
maybe her reaction is the reason I'm so aware of people touching my arm a lot when they touch me. I even hug people with my left hand in main position sometimes. I know it's a disgusting, bad thing to do but I've chosen to do it anyway - I don't need any more judgment from anyone. my body, my rules.
like every criticising comment aimed at me, that one made me very self-aware of the part of me in question.
I've come a long way from the spiteful days of DON'T TOUCH ME, though.
I don't know why this is such a big deal. maybe I miss it more than I thought - today will mark four weeks without what used to be a daily habit. I await tomorrow; things are shitty even if I don't do it, so I might as well.
we live in Finland in the year 2014 and I couldn't marry the girl of my dreams even if she felt the same way for me.
I've known that for years, that the legislation is incredibly discriminating against all minority groups, but it never struck me so forcefully because I didn't know a single person it applied to. I lived a very sheltered, privileged life.
and now that it applies to me too I found myself choking on tears because it's a crime against humanity to discriminate consensual love.
we live in Finland in 2014 - LET PEOPLE LOVE. for fuck's sake, let people love.
