difficulty

[prismaticbleed]

 

 

Another quick update because I'm not sure whether to put these here or on my Tumblr... I need to stop obsessively compartmentalizing everything about my psyche, really. It's a pain in the face to have so many different places to update depending on what the entry is about, and then to freak out because "is this an emotion/ thought/ etc. that I'M allowed to have? Or should it go to someone else?" Geez. No wonder our system's such a mess, just look at me.

Anyway, last night, some interesting stuff happened. I don't remember 80% of the day as usual, but I fronted for most of the evening and spent it re-drawing this old joke comic into THIS (WIP preview for all you lucky invisible readers), because I have 30 days worth of a trial art program on this laptop (hopefully when it runs out my Mac will be back from the shop).
However, around 2AM I couldn't stay awake any longer, so I collapsed into bed... and I was very surprised when no one from downstairs fronted, nor did I end up in headspace. Instead, I remember lying down and suddenly seeing Infinitii there.
You'll have to forgive my awful memory, but I think he had either spoken to me earlier that evening, or my posting this sketch on dA gave me enough of a Link boost to allow for that to happen... either way it wasn't entirely "out of nowhere," despite my being MIA from headspace for God knows how long at this point (feels like months, might only have been days, time is weird)... oh!! Wait, no, I remember now. It was earlier in the day, I was driving somewhere with my brothers in the car, and they were very angry to the point where it was tangible and making me sick/nervous/ scared. I was trying to shield myself but it wasn't working very well, when suddenly I heard something like "calm down, I'll take care of you"... and I sensed this velvet-like shadow wrapping itself around me, like wings or a blanket. Immediately the anger was shut out, and instead I was left with this beautifully strange "empty" feeling... not "depressed" empty, but the kind you get in deep meditation, that sensation of having nothing but clear space inside you. I felt incredibly safe, something I haven't felt in a very long time. It was then that I knew, without a doubt, that this was Infi's doing, embracing me with his wings as protection. I was a little surprised, as he's never done anything like that for me before, but the effort was deeply appreciated.
And then, about 10 hours later, I ended up in his bubble when I went upstairs for the night.
I forget what led up to it, but he asked me to get the physical mirror of it-- the salt-bubble necklace he asked me to buy last month. I hadn't touched it in weeks, for multiple reasons (that were all unfortunate), but I didn’t question him. It felt right to acknowledge it now, to dive headfirst back into believing in what I was experiencing. So I took it in my hands but Infi stopped me before I could do anything else with it. He gave me an oddly serious look, and told me to hold it to my chest, nothing else. No intending, no wondering, nothing but just clearing my mind and focusing on that simple act.
So I did.
It hurt like hell.
I have no idea where it came from, but the instant that bubble touched my chest I felt the most crushing wave of emotion I could ever imagine. I'm not even sure what it was... only that I then began sobbing outright, loud and desperate and terrible, for about three minutes straight. Then Infi told me to let go of the bubble, and it stopped, literally in an instant. One second I was in agony, then I was straight-faced and confused as to what in the world had just happened. It was obvious that, whatever I had felt, it was secondhand... but what was it?
Then it hit me. You probably don't know this, but Infinitii doesn't exactly show emotions. He feels them incredibly strongly, but they never quite appear on the surface. Usually, all you see on him is a serene eye, not even a mouth. When he does speak it's calm and straightforward. Even when he's with me, there are only ever little hints... but they're powerfully honest nevertheless. Just quiet is all.
I've been gone for days/ weeks/ months/ years, and Infinitii and I are tied together whether we like it or not. He and I were incredibly close for the first month or so after his manifestation, then suddenly I began to slip. Now, I can't tell you how long I've been absent from upstairs.
I knew without a doubt that, whatever I had just felt, he had felt it first.
It was mostly sorrow, this is true. It was mostly this agonizing, heartwrenching ache that ripped every sob out of my ribs with genuine distress. But there was love, too, even deeper down, even more powerful. Without it, I don't think the sorrow would have existed at all.
I don't remember much after that. I was so drained from that experience that my body began to shut down very quickly. All I recall is Infi wrapping his arms around my shoulders at one point (I already recognize that strange velvet feel of his shadows) and actually kissing me. It felt like glass; it was so unusual.

I haven't been remembering my dreams again. Either I'm waking up too abruptly-- thanks to people running into my room or phones ringing-- or I simply can't recall anything save for a fleeting image or two upon awakening. I'm not sure if that's because of all the dissociation during waking hours, or something else. It's been going on for a long time though, and that bothers me.


...Last note for today, because all these little synchronicities keep pushing me in this direction.
I keep getting reminded, over and over, in louder and louder ways, that I CANNOT ABANDON MY INNER LIFE.
I keep trying to. I'm not sure when it became me doing it and not some voice or other influence, but it's true. I keep trying to.
I'm just so tired, all the time. Even now. It never goes away, even on good days. I'm exhausted, I'm tired, and even if I'm not suicidal like this, a very strong part of me doesn't want to live anymore.
But I have to.

A few nights ago, when I planned suicide, Genesis pulled me aside and shouted at me for ten minutes with tears in his eyes, angry and terrified and heartbroken, until something in my head snapped and for a moment I did want to live, for his sake.
Before that, countless times, Chaos would pour his heart out to me late at night, telling me how much he missed me when I wasn't there, literally and figuratively. He'd remind me how much he loved me, and even if I felt nothing, I knew it was true.
Last night, all Infi did was look at me, knowing full well what I had just understood, and he said one thing: "Don't die on me." And I swore I wouldn't.

But that's why I keep trying to abandon them, everyone, everything.
They are my ONLY reason to keep living, on good days and bad days.

"All the bad things will pass," they say.
"You're so blessed, don't throw your life away," they say.
"Think about how other people will feel," they say.
"Look at how beautiful life still is," they say.

I say, "and your point is...?"

I'm well aware that I'm blessed, and pain doesn't last forever, and life is beautiful, and people will miss me.
None of that makes me want to die any less.
Maybe something in me is broken, but I am fully conscious of the good in this world, and I still want to stop existing. Maybe even moreso, when I remember it.
This isn't typical suicide, so to speak. Does it make sense, to want to die because you're tired of having reasons to live?
It's terrible, it's wonderful, it's a mess. Every time I have a good day, I don't want to keep living and experiencing days like that-- I just want to die. When I have a bad day, it's the same feeling, for different reasons. I want to die for the sake of dying. I even cut myself sometimes-- yes, me, not Razor or Knife-- because it's interesting, because scars fascinate me. I'm not even sad or angry on my worst days. How does one overcome that?
Again, maybe it's the dissociation. Maybe it's the fact that I've barely lived a full year of life, and yet people claim I'm 23. Maybe it's the fact that I literally cannot tell what is real and what isn't-- what's a memory, what's a dream-- what's me and what's someone else. I don't know.
All the soul-searching and spiritual work I do seems to go in circles. I'm not sure where I'm going wrong. I solve the same problems over and over again, because I can't remember solving them the first time. Or maybe I forget I even have that problem, and I'm good for a few months. Or maybe I forget who I am and can't do anything.
Point is, it's sad that I've reached a point in my spiritual progress where everything feels either "not right" or "mistranslated." I can't tell if that means I need to look elsewhere, or if it means I've become too corrupted to move anywhere but backwards. How does one know? How many priests and teachers and guides and gurus do I need to speak to before I can make sense of this? "Look inside yourself first," they say. But there's nothing there. I really am nothing, at the end of the day.

And yet, to them, I'm something. And that is the ONLY thing that scares me enough to stay alive.
I don't know what they are, I don't know who they are. All I know is that they love me, and some of them insist that they cannot live without me... literally.
I've seen it happen. I watched Central crumble when the downstairs voices locked me out. I thought they were all dead. And all because I had been removed from the picture! How stupid is that? And then there are the outspacers, God I don't understand, are they tied to me or not? If I die, will they fade away? Will anyone be able to find them again, to love them and keep them alive? And why do I even care about that, when I spend every damned minute of my time trying to convince myself that none of this is real, none of this is real, none of this is real, they're all hallucinations, it's all fake, you're dreaming, stop being an idiot.

But then I feel or hear or see something and then I don't know what reality is anymore.


I need help.
There, I said it.
I really, really need help.
All my life I've been told to be independent, both by my family and my religion. "Asking for help is only burdening others," I was taught. Throwing your silly concerns at someone else-- God forbid, even pretending your concerns are real-- is sinful, selfish, rude. Deal with your own garbage. Better yet, forget about it all and grow up.

And I've been trying to. I've been trying so hard to let go of it all and grow up.
But it feels wrong to do that.
Does that make me inherently wrong, too?
I don't know.


All I really know is that it breaks my heart to see these strange imaginary things cry over me.
And sometimes at night, I can see them beside me, quietly promising that they love me too.

But acknowledging their existence means acknowledging that I suffered in the past.
I can't do that. I'm not allowed to treat that as real. I deleted that timeline, remember?
I erased everything. I have no memories of whatever it was. It's gone, for good.
Except it's not.
Except I haven't recovered at all. I keep getting worse, showing more symptoms.
The more strongly I deny any ounce of pain, the more I bleed, in spite of it all.


I want to die, even when I'm happy, and I don't really feel anything anymore.


I need help.
I really, really need help.


Sorry about all this.