you lied to me

[prismaticbleed]

That's what I'm the most afraid of, and now it's absolutely inevitable.
What a jerk, right? Here I am, working myself to the bone in a desperate attempt to escape all that pain, all those black roads, and yet one single lie-- the little white lie that veiled a monstrous leviathan-- is oh so secretly dragging me back into every single freaking one.

I messed up. I said I was sick... and that wasn't a lie.
I feel horribly, catastrophically sick, but I'm unfortunately good at hiding things. I'm unfortunately good at getting distracted by things that don't matter, so when they try to bring their fleeting happiness or incomprehensible joys into the picture, I don't rebel like I should-- oh no, of course not, that would be being honest-- instead I lie. I lie and I throw everything important into the back room and blindly step into whatever sort of mindset they've programmed for me this time.
And I feel so much sicker now that I'm writing this. Isn't that perfectly horrible?
I did this to Q back in 2008... you'd think I would learn. But no. Now I have to drag his girlfriend in too, now I have to lie to them both, because I'm still so freaking terrified that being honest with them will cause some sort of traumatic meltdown.
You know what's the ridiculous part, though? I'm not even afraid of them rejecting me, not deep down. The fear of rejection, of 'messing up,' of doing something that some other arbitrary individual doesn't approve of, that's already near-instinct thanks to how I was brought up. But the consequences? No. I find myself pushing them away now; I test their limits to see if they'll start to turn against me or not. Unfortunately this seems to do the opposite.
I spent quite some time wondering why I picked up such behavior, when I realized it was just looping. I'm simply re-enacting two years ago. It's sick. What a jerk. What an absolute blackhearted bastard.
This is exactly what I do to my family when I want them to punish me... I manipulate them. Maybe Xilats was right.
But... this is different. I'm not looking for pain and torture; no, I'm looking to be let go of... because I feel stuck. I feel like I belong somewhere else, and here I just feel like a puppet on strings.
So I ignore them. I give them a cold facade. I've invented an entire set of reactions that aren't me, and regardless of how dreadfully ill it makes me, I still pull out that role whenever it's time to test their patience. You ready to let go of me now? No... are you ready to set me free?
It hurts to be around them now, and yet, if I lost them, I'd be more alone than I've ever been in my life.

I have no idea what's going on.
Every time the phone rings, I snap back to reality. I miss my family. I wish I could see their faces again, even if that's all I can handle... even if I can't physically bear to spend my days fading in an interim, imprisoned within those walls, I still love the individuals I grew up with and it hurts so strangely to think of them, 2000 miles away. I miss my brothers so much... but I don't feel safe in that house.
And yet, ironically, I don't feel safe here either. I'm frightened here. I'm... I'm really scared. But there's nowhere else to go.
I told Mel I was sick... and I am. I'm physically sick, I feel like vomiting every freaking minute of the day, I can't sleep, I can't see straight, my whole body hurts. But that's not what bothers me!
The truth is, I'm homesick.
How ridiculously ironic. 'Home'sick. Where the heck is home, huh? Dan Nigro says it's where you're happy... but then he adds that it's also where you're free. Free to be who you were born to be.
Well geez, Dan, if you know where such a place is, then please inform me. Take me there. Or is it just the music? What a thought. What a beautifully, painfully ironic thought.

That's another thing.
I keep checking Tumblr, looking for inspiration... but there are so many people on there with... how do you say? Shallow minds? I don't know.
I just came across a picture quote, declaring that the poster "wished she could be as carefree as a butterfly." And just what good is that going to do you, love? Throwing away all that matters enough to you to make you care in the first place, just to flit about without any motives or purpose? I'm not reading 'too far' into anything; I'm simply seeing the truth that you all tend to skim over.
It makes me ill, and it scares me to death. These people are all over the world! They're out there, just waiting to meet me, so they can screw around with my perceptions and understandings. They try to sneak their soapdust words into my bleeding ears; their carefree ways slipping from their oily tongues. Waiting for me to slip on the filmy abominations their footsteps drag behind them.
I am so scared of people.
That's the real reason I won't finish this letter to the University. God knows how desperately I want to go back to school-- it hurts so much not to be making progress-- but for the love of sanity, remember what happened the last time? I can't deal with people. It's so horribly, sickeningly sad.
And yet there's so much freaking hope. Dear God, I don't know whether to laugh or cry about all this anymore. I can't hold a job, I can't deal with school; heck, I can't even deal with the two people in this room, who both insist they love me. And yet I still have this stupidly indomitable hope, even if it ironically goes against all of that. I don't understand a thing.

"I guess that this cruel world ain't got no place for me. We're all stuck in the middle, we're throwing our cash at books of cliches. They say the cost is little; it might work, but not for me... 'cause my soul is not for sale."
Those lines, from "In Case of Rapture," have been haunting me lately. It's so true to me.
And now I feel like a total moron for referencing relevant lyrics. What is wrong with me? Can't I voice my own opinions without feeling selfish or guilty or stupid or irredeemably wrong?
I'm torn between being me and fitting some mold I can't even see. It's horrific. Honestly, I'm not even aware of what I'm doing anymore. I guess at reactions and answers and behaviors, conjuring up every next move in the asinine hope that it'll be 'right' for whoever the heck I'm acting to. Geez, I don't even life my life for me... I just rip out the seams and fix my ragged self up to fit whoever picks me up next. I'm forgetting my original pattern, I'm in a ton of pain, but even complaining makes me feel like a selfish jerk. It makes no sense.
Is it possible to have a 'self' without being 'selfish?' Because if it isn't, I don't know how I'll survive another year.

Or maybe I will. Just barely.
See, I know what makes me happy. Three things... my children, my music, and my memories. All internal. You can't-- heck, you won't take them away from me.
I can sit here for hours, silent, with only my headphones on, watching thoughts play out like movie reels and beautiful worlds blossoming to life behind my eyelids. That's all I need... it's all I'll ever need... it's all I've ever wanted. God, it's what I live for.
It's the only reason I haven't left here, as awful as that sounds. I just... seeing people actually care about something so vital to my heart is just... it's life-affirming. And even that sounds empty, an understatement.
But am I using them? I can't realistically expect people to focus on my purpose 24/7... and yet it's the only thing that matters to me, so I look for it regardless.
As a child I didn't have to worry about that; no one else ever bothered with me. My life didn't matter to them, so if I wanted to sit for hours on end and just type or draw or work at the piano, they could care less. And I loved that. I was too naïve to realize that such a lack of interest or care was damaging... and I was too happy to be affected. I remember sitting on the red couch around 2002, all day, with my purple boom box tuned into whatever radio station was playing cool stuff at the moment... just sitting there with a tiny journal tablet and drawing comics in it. I was so freaking happy it breaks my heart to think about it.
And I'll never forget that one day in 6th grade... it was in the fall, because the class was making popcorn balls, but I was drawing a battle scene between Crystal and Dakeep so I couldn't be bothered... but my teacher told me to stop drawing, because there were other things that needed to be done, and judging by his tone of voice, he was sick of my having a pencil in my hand and my nose to a sheet of paper all day. You have no idea how much that stung. First of all, that artwork was very important to me, and second of all, there wasn't anything better to do than my own personal work. Being treated like I was just some kid who liked to doodle hurt more than you know. I wasn't just the 'artistic outcast' everyone labeled me as; I was a channeler, a dreamer, a believer, and I wasn't ever going to give up on what I had been blessed with. I still won't, and never will.
So... I look for recognition, for admiration and respect, for love... for them. No, I don't want it. I want all that positivity to go to my mental children, as they are the only ones who deserve it.
Hearing Xilats and Q becoming so vehemently caught up in those Worlds, in those individuals I hold so close to my heart, is more than I have ever dreamed of. I mean, sure, I have always dreamed of 'making my mark' on the world and my work becoming known by millions... but it was always just a hope. Just a hope that one day I would be able to inspire so many, that I would be able to brighten their lives. That I could make a difference in my own real, unique, lasting way.
Seeing it actually happen...it brings tears to my eyes. It's beyond my ability to express.

But if I continue to lie about what's truly important, I won't be able to have that joy anymore.
So what do I do?
Do I tell them the fragmented truth, the miserably mangled confession that even I don't understand, and risk being absolutely ostracized again? Do I risk being thrown back into the unflinching emptiness of my 'family life,' which I still desperately wish to return to, if only to see their faces?
I can't lie anymore... but I don't know what the truth is, and they always understand it wrong. They always miss the depth, or project their own fears, or assume complete untruths, and when they accept their own misgivings as my personal reality, I'm too drained and sorrowfully exhausted to do anything but just give in and lie again. It's terrible... I don't even know why I do it.

...I don't even know where they are right now. I don't know if I should be happy or sad because of that. It just hurts because I'm afraid I've done something horribly wrong, that they don't consider me an individual worthy of spending time around. But that's just incredibly selfish. If only they'd let me know what their motives were for once, maybe I wouldn't be so confused. I don't know.
It's only 9:30PM and I wish I were somewhere real, somewhere safe...
God, help me reach my heaven one day, because I think that's the only solace I'm ever gonna get.







Home is where you are happy
It's not where you're not free
Home is where you can be who you are
Who you're born to be

And they'll show you their castles and diamonds forth to see
But they'll never show you peace of mind
Cause they don't know how to be free
So burn all your bridges
Leave your old life behind
You can do what you want to do
Because you're strong in your mind

And anywhere you might wander
You can make that your home
Cause when you have love in your heart
You'll never be alone
Yes, as long as you have love in your heart
You'll never be alone
You'll never be alone
You'll never be alone