the spectrum heart cathedral system

I am so, so, so ashamed of the updates that have been here recently.

Jay is an absolute idiot. I don't know when he'll ever learn. Self-abuse to the point of his personal masochistic euphoria is GOING to lead to a hack, you moron, because hackers USE pain and trauma!! I don't care how much YOU enjoy blood and pain. The fact is, there are hackers who are going to use your state of mind to USE EVERYONE ELSE.

Here's something you may have forgotten. ANYTHING you "enjoy" = MASSIVE DISSOCIATION.
The instant you find yourself "interested" in something, you CHECK OUT. That is a CONSTANT and it has been for YEARS and I don't know WHY the heck you keep getting surprised when your "suffering" kicks our brain into blank-out mode and then some demonic hacker sneaks in and DOES JUST THAT.


The eating disorder people are fragmenting badly and that whole situation is falling to very dangerous pieces.
All the previous "trigger foods" are now identified as "obligatory" and so suddenly, now we aren't eating anything, and the few things we have left over that we thought we "liked"-- because we were told to, or because someone thought it was interesting when we first tried it AND since DATA TYPICALLY DOESN'T "STORE" when the body eats they DON'T REALIZE if, five minutes after that initial "interest," we're in crippling pain or vomiting. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE.

So now that one horrifically stupid "broken coping method" (basically, "destroy things" in a "non-violent way") no longer works. We can't annihilate edible things anymore, we can't even use them as sensory reminders because it no longer registers. No matter how hot or spicy or cold or bitter or salty we make something, we don't sense it, even if the BODY does, and it does not take those experiences well. Our senses are so detached that we can honestly burn our hands and not feel it, although we are aware that we were burned, and the body is in pain. It's just too far away. The pain is too far away to feel anymore.

What do we do now.
Jewel can go back to typing, of course. There's enough work to do. Except we're no longer in 2004, or 2002, or whenever, regardless of how hard to believe that is. It's 2015. It's incomprehensible.






Last thing. I wrote a letter earlier today but it was so asinine, so attention-grabby and childish, I gave up.

Consider this a "suicide note."

I've been killing this body, slowly, for a while now. The effects are piling up. The damage is irreversible now.
In some confusing way that's "existentially terrifying," the thought that death is closer than ever now, but I'm learning to not take that personally anymore. I need to make my peace with death, in its totality.
Part of this psyche wants to live, I guess, or at least it's afraid of dying a heathen-whore death like this. It's afraid of such a humiliating, painful, slow, frightening death. It wants a "holy death," something clean and fast and bloody and fiery. Like the original child, it wants to be a martyr. It wants its death to somehow absolve the sinful disgust of its life, its wasted ugly life, a fat embarrassing waste of skin and space.

We don't want the family to be ashamed of us. We don't want the family to be disgusted by us, and embarrassed by our existence.
But day by day, it is difficult now, those two consecutive surgeries made it tough to recover and now we've temporarily forgotten how to live well. Part of us doesn't care. It's too tired, it feels too hideous.

I can't cry. We can't cry. It's not allowed. We have to be strong, we have to man up, we have to stop acting like a baby. We can't cry. There's no reason to get upset over these things. Just deal.
It's just… is that numbness "holy?" Is there another option?
It frightens me when I see people proclaiming "non-attachment" and when I try to do so, I end up not caring about anything anymore. Which can be fine, I suppose, but then it turns into apathy, and that means I'm doing something wrong. I'm just unsure what else would happen, being so utterly cut off from everything, not caring anymore.

I don't know. I miss caring, in a way. I despise attachment, but I miss caring. I miss when it mattered if we felt healthy or sick. I miss when we had things we wanted to do, because we enjoyed them. What is enjoyment even like? If it's like Jay does, then that's the problem-- total dissociation from reality, caused by something unendurable. Detachment to the extreme. Is it possible to "enjoy" something in the physical realm? Or is that being ignorant and sinful?

Daily life. Can you imagine? What would it be like, to get up in the morning and not feel dirty? To not have to eat, to be able to run, to have something to do with your day that was… I don't know the word. I really don't. It's like, having 12 awake hours where you're not exhausted and anxious and feeling everyone else's stress. Having something to do as an individual that matters to other people, and enriches their lives. Something selfless, something worthwhile.
See, that's how awful we are. The word 'selfless' hurts a bit. How much more do we have to sacrifice? But that's the wrong idea. "Sacrifice" helps no one, not when we're bleeding out and hoping someone benefits. But what's the alternative? Is it possible for us to thrive, and still DO GOOD for others?? I hope so. Somehow, there has to be a way for that to be true. I don't know how yet though.

But this is effectively a suicide letter. There's been one too many days of this.
Blood, too much blood.
Pain. Headaches, stomach pain, old injuries acting up. Flashbacks.

It's all caused by depression, I know. And we're only depressed because we're weak. That's our personal case, and it's true. We're weak. We wouldn't be depressed "if we didn't exist," that's the sad truth, the truth, "sadness" isn't real for us.
I don't know. I want to obey, to "be good," but those people who give us the RIGHT advice still feel WRONG. The things they say might be excellent information 85% of the time, but when we actually succeed in those things and go to them, all we get are paper smiles and ignorance. Like there's no actual caring. It's like the mother (God forgive us she's a great person when she's not forcing us to be like her, forgive me please). Do what she wants, what she likes, and she'll be nice as pie, genuinely so… because you're great! She's so proud of you! And I love seeing her happy, I do.
But the moment you slip, the moment you ask a question they don't personally like, they're uncomfortable. They don't like you anymore. Now you've disappointed them, you've shown that you're too selfish to know what's right, and you're not worth their time.
It's all so distant. That's why I stopped going to those spiritual websites, and that's why I'm so terrified now.
Is this "depression" my punishment?? Is this sudden massive decrease in personal health and environmental safety a direct and intended penalty, God telling me I messed up beyond forgiveness by "turning my back on Him?" God it terrifies me, what if I really DID commit some unforgivable sin, by daring to suggest that their website wasn't the panacea to every spiritual ill, wasn't the "one true path" to God?
I'm so so so scared. But they tell me, "walk your own path," before telling me how to walk it.

That's the problem. I am so so so sorry, I am painfully sorry, for ever judging those people. I really am.
I didn't realize I was condemning them until I had it pointed out to me. "Follow your own path," but I was yelling at them for theirs. Why? Because part of me, deep inside, STILL believed that there is only one path, EVER-- and if THEIRS worked perfectly for them well that meant it was THE path, and so it HAD to work for me, or I was FLAWED. A self-fulfilling nonsense prophecy (or so I hope, perhaps selfishly and stupidly).
If their path felt wrong for me to follow-- not simperingly 'uncomfortable;' I'd often jump into their paths with desperate enthusiasm-- I labeled that a mortal sin. How dare you object to what you are being told to do.
If it makes them happy, if they WANT YOU TO DO IT, then you MUST, because if it's right for them then it's ALWAYS right, if it makes them happy then you must ALWAYS share in that, and if you disagree then you're just not kind-hearted enough to sacrifice your own needs for the greater good yet.


This keeps repeating.
It all boils down to that one thing, over and over and over and over.
I'm sick of giving my power away to other people. I'm tired of feeling unable, unworthy, or too unintelligent to make my own decisions.

I'm scared because every time I've tried to "walk my own path," it's started out with joy and incredible insight, and then something horrible would happen that proved it was all false and sinful and secretly demonic. Just like when I was a kid. "The devil is tempting you!" no matter what. If it seemed too good to be true, it probably was.
I'm sick of that. God, I want to be happy, not just on the inside but on the outside. It's easy as pie to still be happy and smile when life looks like a fallout zone. But day after day, that keeps repeating, and my soul begins to feel cheated. "Why the heck do you keep forcing me to tune into happiness when THIS is our life situation???"
There's a fine line. Being "happy no matter what" is SUICIDE when it makes you stagnate, AND when it makes you not care about moral lapses. That's why I dislike the "non-attachment" message delivery I've read, because it always seems to preach an extreme.

Saying this feels wrong and horrible.
I want to be happy without stepping all over negative emotions to do so. I want to live in the moment without murdering the past to get there. I want to be non-attached without being apathetic. I want to be able to care about things, I want to be able to enjoy things, I want to be able to love things, without feeling like it's disgusting and shameful and plain old silly. "How foolish! You are still like a child," I would be told. Smiley face.
Why do I keep reading that I "must be like a child," then? That frightens me too, because what our family has recorded of "our" childhood is not a person we want to be. They were malevolent, and proud, and angry, and selfish. Sure they "lived in the moment." Sure they were "happy" almost always, and their negative emotions-- however horrific-- would blow over once they were expressed. But that child was not a nice person. They were an animal on their worst days. And yet they were STILL your ideal.
I am so confused. What is right? After 10 years I'm still asking that question. It's ridiculous.

I'm always, always going in circles here. I need to break that.
Problem is I can't tell what's "truth" and what's not. I'm fighting my own emotions, which I label as "stupid" and "uneducated," because sometimes when I'm told to do/ act/ say/ be something, I get a gut-deep "I don't know about this" feeling. So I push past it, hard. I question everything I think and feel until I don't know how to think or feel anymore. I push until I break and then it doesn't matter because by now, I'm just a program, just a nice little shell doing everything you tell it to… or at least until that "pesky depression" comes back and knocks it into a sobbing heap.
Then you show up and laugh in my ear, "how silly!" Crying is so alien to you. Sadness is so foreign to you. You scare me, and that scares me, because I never thought I'd want to be sad, or cry… until I felt it impossible not to, and you laughed and shook your head and said it was just an illusion, let it go.

I want to. But I'm terrified that if I do, I'll end up like you.

This is a mess. I want to talk about this to someone, anyone, but we're alone.
God help me I am so sick of being lonely. I am so SICK of people messaging me on social networks and making small talk and acting like they're the savior. "I'm talking to you!" I don't like talking. I need companionship, somehow, I want to experience what it's like to be in a community for once in my life, I want to be in a group and not just because the teachers felt bad for me and forced me in there. They didn't want me there. I want to be PART of something, I don't know. This is stupid.
"Everything you ever need, you can provide for yourself." Sure, maybe that's why I have D.I.D. or whatever the heck this allegedly "fake" thing is. Maybe little us was so freaking tired of being hurt and rejected that when they broke, they didn't mind as much as they should because oh wow, company! Isn't that horribly sad though. I know that's the truth. We've been ashamed of it for years. The first person to face Julie head-on didn't fight back as much as they should because it was the first time another "human being" had ever paid that much close attention to them. Sure we were a toy. Sure we were being used. But as horrible as it was, they couldn't hurt us without us so for those few excruciating minutes we were valid. And that made the pain and fear all the more horrible afterwards. We didn't want that… or did we? What did we want?
To this day we struggle with it. What do we want? Why do we throw ourselves into abuse, over and over and over? We know we don't want "attention"-- when we get it, it disgusts us, and we leave. We don't want people fawning over us. What do we want?
I don't know if there's a word for it. Coming home and knowing you're welcome there, even if no one talks to you. There's no ignorance in the air. Feeling at home somewhere. Not romantic trash, that was wrong, so wrong. It came close, we tried, but it was so wrong. We can't quite forgive ourselves for that either, for not realizing, for not being ABLE to realize until YEARS later… it was never their fault, they didn't know any better, we didn't know any better, and the fear and guilt and anger and sadness just built and built until we were unable to see a friend smile at us without expecting something bad to follow. It wasn't their fault.
God and this hurts even more because I KNOW we have friends now, don't we? A few, at least? But I don't know how to deal with friends, even though I love them, what do I do to be a friend in return, that I can do? I'm so scared of having to perform again. I'm so scared of conditional friendships. But I love them, I do, just knowing they exist, the doubts kill me, do they really care? Am I going to scare them away, by accident? Why am I even doubting them? I have so little faith in my ability to be a good friend, I guess, after all these years. I'm so sad, so sorry, so angry, for their sake. I'm not always a good friend to myself and it breaks my heart because I don't want that bleeding onto other people anymore.

This is idiocy. This is why I'm suicidal. See all that idiocy? All that whining? It's stupid. Day after day. It's ridiculous.

This body is a waste. It is too abused to function anymore.
The family says our saving grace is that we're "pretty." When we're suddenly not "pretty," well, no one really cares anymore. Once you're ugly you just get pity.
Crying isn't pretty. Scars aren't pretty. Even something as innocuous as fluffed-up hair isn't pretty. We must always be pretty, they say.
We stopped hormones for close to three months because the family suddenly decided that "it's causing all your problems!" Magically, the problems we'd had for years upon years suddenly became visible to them now that we were on "medicine" that was helping. First time in a decade the dysphoria starts to abate, we're happy, then reality slams in-- now what? We're visibly trans, can we handle the prejudice? Suddenly we're an adult, can we cope with the memory loss, with the abruptness of this new life situation? We were stressed, but deep down we were happy, we were finally reaching some truth outside. But the family said no. Stop the hormones. They're causing all this trouble. I don't like the smell. I don't like the way you're acting now. We tried to compromise but the guilt got so choking we stopped. Miserable, but feeling too selfish to pursue our own happiness, we stopped. Then some of the changes reversed. That day we went out into the car and someone screamed and sobbed for about an hour and then I don't remember the rest of that week because we were trying not to be an asshole and kill the body.
It's much, much harder to cope when the dysphoria comes back unannounced after being gone for the first time in years-- and dissociation making it so you don't actually remember what it was like back then.
After two months of awful anxiety surrounding expired prescriptions and ineligible meds we finally started the hormones again, now it's just patience waiting for them to kick back in, and skill dealing with the fear when the family tells us "they're making you sick and depressed" when I can't remember what it was like to not be on hormones in the first place. Are they right? If I hope it'd be worth the risk even then, is that stupidity? Is that a moral challenge I failed?

I don't want to be weak. I don't want to commit suicide because they said that means we "weren't strong enough" and "we failed" and "we weren't worthy of living in this blessed time" etc.
God I am so scared, I am so tired, living isn't easy either when every day is like this.
We can't eat. We can't exercise yet. We can't go out, the body is terrifying, the family is distant, we are isolated almost all day. Solitary confinement gets to you after a while, you know? All the silence, stuck in a small place, week after week after week, still being terrified that you are "too selfish" and striving to make yourself into what the "people online" say.
How do they know? Why do they have all these magic intuitive visionary powers and knowledge, and I don't? What am I missing, what's wrong with me, that I need THEM to tell me what to do?? Even when I only freaking FOUND them because their articles MATCHED my personal experiences?????
2011 was marked as "blissful" right up until the hideous, hideous hack hell in the second half of the year. The first half of the years was nonexistent. But there was a bit, somewhere in the summer, that somehow cemented itself as "transcendent" and God if WE were able to tap into that…

"We." That awful cursed word. We're just freaks, is all. We're fake and we're freaks. We've had other people with D.I.D. tell us that. We're faking it. We're making this up.
Sometimes I wish it were true, I wish it would just stop, all the hell would stop too. I often try to force it all to stop. Why do you think there have been so many reset attempts, so many bluescreens, so many glitches, so many numb periods, so much slippage? It's exhausting. We keep wanting it all to just finally stop so we attempt psychological suicide.
But then life gets even emptier, as STUPID as that is. All of a sudden life becomes grey and empty and dull. Now, what to do but the daily grind? Sleep and eat and work and do what you're told. That's it! Wash rinse and repeat, over and over, and then LO AND BEHOLD, one terrible evening you get HACKED because the dissociation and self-abuse got just that bad, and then all of a sudden there are RETRIBUTORS in the bathroom cutting even deeper lines into the legs.
And in those moments I find myself, always, ALWAYS, sobbing with joy.
It's stupid, it's so STUPID, but there it is.
After so long of nothing, I'd throw myself to the dogs if it meant Laurie would fish me out. I'd let everyone in the country use me as they wished if it meant Wreckage and Razor would be following my ass, furious and battle-ready. I'd do anything, I'd endure anything, if it would mean this numb drudgery would stop and we could be, WE could be, that blessed terrible word-- I would do anything.
And that scares me because I am tempted to say "No exceptions." I've never said that. There are too many awful "anythings" I could be forced to do. But really, I would pay in my own blood if that was their price.
That's the story of this System in a nutshell, I suppose.

Another night, another retelling of this same open wound of a topic.

I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to fix it.

This IS a cry for help now, okay? Yeah it's asinine, yeah I feel dumb and weak for it, but right now I'm just so crushingly sad that I don't care. I'm asking for help and if that means I deserve a kick in the face then okay. I'll take the broken nose. I know I'm a bad kid and I should be punished. But I'm too sad to care. Right now I need help.

I don't know how to fix this.

I… I dream of a day when this body will feel good, and clean, and holy. It's been years since it's felt worth anything.
I don't want to disgrace this family anymore. I don't want to be afraid of everyone inside because I feel so filthy, so utterly wrong and disgusting that if they showed up at my door right now, I would collapse in the bitterest tears ever shed because I would probably close that door in their face. I would close it out of shame, out of such profound and crushing shame that I, this whore, this pig, this scrap heap of filth and sin and ugliness, this reject, would DARE to exist around such perfect things. God I am so sorry for existing.
I want to be a light again, I want to be a hope-bringer again, as we were once, so so long ago, we didn't lose it, we couldn't have.

How do I "forgive myself" for this when "forgiveness" still feels like "justification" for me? How do I "forgive" this body for being such a wretched pile of filth without giving it permission to perpetuate that?
All I've ever known is, if you want something to change, you hurt it until it does. That was the method. Kid not behaving? Slap 'em around a few times. Terrify them. Shout at them. Get them so afraid, that misbehaving becomes terrifying too. That’s how it works.
But if you kick a flower for not growing, it dies.
What the heck is the difference? I don't know what it's like to be a flower. If I wasn't growing even after I was watered they'd still cut me down. I'd be a waste of their time, a waste of space. That's how it is, right?
I don't know what I'm doing. Let me try to organize the ugly thought that's trying to express itself here.



Remember when we used to have "inspiring" entries? Back when the System was real, and love was real, and dreams were bright?
I don't. I am so sad, but I don't remember.
It's funny. We forgave ner totally, but those words stuck like hooks in our brain.

At one point, we were someone they loved too. Where did we go wrong?
I still say, it's because they needed someone else, who wasn't with them at the moment. So I was a placeholder, for them both. Once that place was filled, I was no longer needed. So I can leave with grace now, realizing they never really needed me, they just missed someone else so much-- or needed someone else so much-- that I was like a painkiller, for a while. Just an aspirin to take the edge off. Now they don't hurt anymore and so I am unnecessary, which is perfectly fine.
It's funny though. I say all that and with all sincerity, I don't know who they are. Any of them! I have no memories, just a data strand that says "we knew them once, they were "friends" once, we are still having trouble managing the sudden collapse of that."
Why, I know why. It's because "they" are also described as "the ONLY people downstairs who knew about us, and cared about us." That made them invaluable. So… to suddenly and completely lose that, to have 5 years of someone knows I exist to suddenly "hey, no you don't, you were a terrible person, "guess we were wrong" about you being so nice after all!" It hit like a torpedo to the chest and we never really healed from it. The doubt never, ever went away.
Are we really that… bad? Are we really that malevolent on the inside? Are we really just an awful influence sugarcoating itself, and leading people astray? How can we tell?
Since then I've been an aching awful mess, I don't know how to reconcile this. I feel that everything I've ever felt and seen and said was a lie, even if I didn't realize it at the time.
I am so, so happy that they're all happy now. But the ache has nothing to do with them. It is, seeing them so joyous, and realizing that I do not exist anymore, in comparison to them. It's like watching a movie. The people in the movie, and the people watching it, are totally separate. But only the watchers can love the characters, not the other way around. They can never touch, ever. That's what this feels like. There's no bitterness, there's just this knowledge that I can never be part of their world. I'm fine with that. I'm not fine with the feeling of nonexistence it causes.
That is so hard to put into words. It's… for 5 years they were the ONLY people in the WORLD, literally, just two people, who knew who I was and who knew who WE were and who cared. Then it stopped dead. Almost overnight that entire time period that was "too good to be true" just… collapsed. I don't even know how. Who the heck bunked with them? What did they do? Who manned this body in 2012 and did what to them, for that consequence to occur??
All I know is that the separation was paired with the sentiment that "we were wrong about you all along" and…
Since then I've doubted everything. That's all I'm trying to say.

...Oh God that is terrible. I just realized. What if ne reads this, I don't want ner feeling guilty over that, there's nothing to feel guilty about. What do I do, do I still publish that? I can't lie, I need to express it, I'm not mad or sad or bitter at them, never-- I can't go back, I don't even want to, it's been to long, I don't remember anything-- but what did we do? What did we do? I want to fix that somehow, I want to heal THAT, I want to somehow scrub out all the pain and hurt we somehow left on them, I want to know that the thought of us brings NO pain to their hearts. I am so sorry, I don't even know what I'm sorry for, I just want this to be well, I just want you to be well.
Someone loved you. They did. I don't know who they were, we can't find them, I don't know what they said or did but there is a resonance, of the way they genuinely thought of you, and it was true. I want to say that, at least, for everyone we once knew out there. You were loved, we didn't lie. They just... disappeared, and the people who I guess you met later didn't know or remember that well. But I can see it there. I hope that means something, if only to patch up some aches, to clear up some confusion. There's a lot of confusion here for me at least.
I don't want there to be blind spots and bruises in your memory because of us. It's not fair to you. You have my blessing I guess, for what it's worth. For whatever you gave us, for whoever you were to us, thank you.

Geez even saying that feels selfish because it's something I said.


On that note, I don't want to be a bad person. But I'm so ashamed of all the self-promoting garbage that gets posted here.
"Listen what a good day I had!" "Let me tell you about how much I like life!"
And why am I so bitter over it? Because I'm convinced it's fake. …Or at least, I'm scared to admit it might not be. Because… because if people in this System really are happy, the real kind of happiness… I don't know.
I'm angry because I see the darkness too. I see that we are a horrible influence on people still. Look at me, look at all this angsty typing. I'm a bad influence, no one wants me around their kids or families, I'm the one they kick out on the street! Not Jay, not that kid who can't be bad, to the point where he drags everyone ELSE into pain. What irony. And that's why I'm angry, because I'm sad, I'm so unbearably sad, he exists because we NEED that, we NEED someone who CAN'T be touched by that awful sadness, someone who CAN somehow, inexplicably, impossibly, tap into genuine joy even in the face of death and NOT be tormented in the process.
Jay doesn't get hacked. People try, always it seems, but he gets kicked out too fast. Problem is then other people get hacked. And he can't bear it when he finds out, if he finds out. It's not really his fault, not really. He just tries too hard to bring light everywhere, even to the guillotine, forgetting that the blade's gonna drop either way. Malevolent forces follow him, like the Plague, yes that was a terrible pun but it's true. He's the target because he's a testament to what they are NOT, to what they CAN'T touch and ruin, and they want him dead. But even after all these resets, even after how many times he's been shattered, he's STILL around somehow. And that makes me so so sad, to see him unaware of this nightmare, and for me to WANT him to be unaware of it all, because he's hope in some weird stupid way, hope that we're not evil, hope that this painful life situation isn't the endgame, hope that there's more to life than what I feel.
When we tap into headspace, we touch something bright and real, every time. Even when we're sad. Even for me. I realize that now. Even now, with this body sick and the head hurting, even with the reality of the family collapsing about us, even with us not knowing what tomorrow will bring… tapping into headspace, even for a moment, catches me in the moment, and… for a second, everything is bigger on the inside. Suddenly there's more. Even if I can't see it, I can feel it there, some greater experience, and God I wish that could stay, I want it to stay, PLEASE let that be the right thing for us, somehow… somehow, somehow, PLEASE, don't let it be wrong.
There's too much love there, just in the fabric of it, not the romantic bilge this physical space keeps throwing at us even now… no, there's real love in headspace, compassion, something that language doesn't express. It's stupid. It's so stupid. I feel like an idiot saying this, all fancy childish dreams and ideals. But no one's laughing at me this time. They're standing back, staring at me with a mix of anger and fear, and they won't say a word.
I don't want to be part of it, personally. I couldn't. It'd kill me, I think. Too much. But if my job is to work this body, then at least let me know it's there, at least let me touch it for God's sake, it's the only light I've got, is knowing that exists alongside this.

I don't know what to do. This is all I can do, this typing stuff. I'll switch out at some point, probably, something I won't experience or remember, but I'll be gone. I hope someone good comes in and gives this poor stupid broken body a rest.

I… if this life was all there was, then yes, I would want to die. If that fighting in the kitchen was all there was, I'd want to die. If I had nothing to live for but the daily grind, then I'd want to die.
It's hard, even now, feeling all that rage and desperation and screaming teeth-emotion from them. It gets in and sticks and it hurts.
But that's not all there is.
There's more somewhere, something clearer, something I wish, something-- God, I wish I could reach--

 

 

 

 

 

Thought #1: I have a personal rule-- emotions are shown upstairs, not downstairs. I'll bleed joy into pages whenever it is needed, and in headspace I can laugh and cry and everything else... but it must never show on my physical face. That tends to have disastrous consequences. I also tend to show emotions either as 1) intellectual translations, or 2) programmed responses. It's why I don't like them. Either I'm not feeling at all and am only acting as I feel is "appropriate" for the situation, or I'm feeling so much that I don't know how to translate it, and it comes out as a jumbled mess of broken words and random movements.

Thought #2: I have this nagging suspicion that I'm failing at being an individual, on some level. It's hilariously ironic. When I work, I work as a watcher. I write and draw and compose as a channel, not a person. It's the natural method of doing so, and it's the only way I can operate. Problem is, as soon as "I" enter the picture in any way, shape, or form... things collapse. I think this is why I'm having these weird lingering problems with headspace. When I'm not a part of it, it carries on spectacularly, without any trouble. When I am part of it, I can't seem to function at all. Having a personality is confusing to me, most days. Downstairs it's borderline traumatic at times. I'm not sure what to do.

Thought #3: words. I'm not very good with them. We were talking about paraphrasing in class today, and it struck me why I can't seem to do so easily: I find such specificity in chosen words that I see no way TO paraphrase, when the information given is confined strictly to the written word. It's why I personally become very frustrating if I can't find the "right word" to use in speech or writing, even if a synonym or alternate term would work just as well: I'm actually trying to find consonants and colors and sounds that match up with my intended message, not just the etymological function. So I tend to honor specificity in turn.

Thought #4: today I discovered that the old Jewel DOES still exist-- and that she almost always co-fronts with me. This explains a lot. She's no threat to anyone, though-- if anything, she's actually a gateway to all the old creativity we thought we lost, which is highly significant and deeply consoling. She also insists that "her color is still Red," which poses quite a few questions in the Spectrum, but I'll continue to investigate that on my own time.

Thought #5: life as an "alter" in general. I'm not even sure who or what I am anymore, and strangely that doesn't seem to matter much. All I know for sure is that I'm not the original body consciousness. That's a relief; it takes a lot of stress off my back.
It is exhausting, though, having to constantly struggle for mental dominion against the girls underground. It's very tiring. Sometimes I just want to not exist at all. Sometimes I wonder if that's even me thinking... I only seem to exist in any total honesty at night. I'm afraid I've fractured too much to do any differently. During the day I can only come across in written words, or maybe music, or sight. I can't talk, and moving can be difficult. It's tiring, it really is. But Laurie keeps reminding me that life is beautiful anyway, and hearing that come from someone who is covered in battle scars means more than I can say.

Thought #6: synchronicity. For months I wasn't seeing any numbers, wasn't getting any lineups anywhere. Then, last week I think, they just exploded back into reality as if they had never stopped. Numbers were everywhere, songs kept communicating long-forgotten truths, random words would do the same to greater degrees, weather patterns would line up with upstairs events... it's incredible. Many people upstairs talk to me here that way, too. Chaos does so the most often and the most audibly (His native language isn't verbal either)... so it's good to hear him talking in that way so often now, after not having been around him for so long upstairs. It makes life feel "right," somehow. Also, my dreams are returning to their vivid brilliance, and people from headspace are able to access them again. Laurie has stopped by about three times this week, so far. I find it amusing but entirely unsurprising that this only started happening once I finally began reading the Sandman comic series... and let me tell you, synchronicity abounds within those pages.

Thought #7: remember your old and insistent title. You're a source of Hope, like it or not, and you cannot reverse a metanoia once it's taken root in your heart. Don't forget the old hopes from old lives either... our timeline may have been reset twofold, but that doesn't mean we don't have a chance this time. the only reason you took a knife to the disc in the first place was because you hoped something new and better would replace it. has it? take a look. i think it has.
Maybe we're closer to winning this war now than ever before, so to speak, even if it looks like we're in a doomed and empty void. Look deeper. Look beyond.

Thought #8: infinity sideways. How strange, and how oddly fitting, that both Chaos and Infinitii are demonstrating their importance right now. Something keeps telling me that they're connected, which is disconcertingly obvious when I consider it... but it's not a bad thing. It's just a strange thing, strange and shocking, but blessed nonetheless. Kind of like Xenophon. Maybe she has the answer? I wonder.
Lastly, Chaos' energy came through the veil last night for the first time since we spoke in Salt Lake City. After months of doubting whether or not anything was true at all, feeling that slam into my awareness was like... it was as if I had been deaf all my life, and in that moment, I heard music for the first time.
I'm sorry; this is an example of when words fail, absolutely and beautifully, to express what I'm actually feeling.

Thought #9: stop thinking for a while. It helps.

 

Well. Apparently the universe really, really wants me to stop relying on computers?
Within 24 hours I have lost virtually all work access to both my laptops.

A few weeks ago something kept telling me, loudly, "print out your Dream World work." I wholeheartedly agreed, but once again shadows kept conspiring to stop me. First my printer had a fatal error (he's still shot), then the ink ran out for the family printer. Then when I got it to work, I couldn't get on my computer to print! My schedule seemed to fill up at the exact times I'd be free enough to type. And when I could type, my Vista-- Abbey-- would often crash, freeze, or refuse to let me format documents correctly (she's a bit ditzy to say the absolute least). So I didn't get to start typing in earnest until about a week ago... and as of last night, Abbey no longer recognizes anything plugged in from a USB.
I can't access my files (my backup files are from February and are missing all the major edits that hit me over the past month), I can't print anything, and I can't even back up my files onto an external hard drive. She also has no Internet access (and hasn't had any for over two years). Abbey has effectively 'landlocked' herself and as a result she is now effectively as good as broken.
Then last night I tried to partition Apollo, my Mac, and that didn't work... long story short, he's now all but empty. I still have Internet (obviously) but that's it, and now it's basically pointless to go online.
Because of this I have been forced, and rather distressingly so, to abandon virtually all of my reliance on computers. I still can only write music and type on them, of course, but I'm stuck for right now...
Thank God Apollo is recognizing USB ports today. I don't care how old the info may be-- I'm printing every single page I have written for Dream World, just in case I lose computer access altogether.

This isn't about computers though. Honestly I'd be happier if I didn't have to use them, which is keeping me laughing through this fiasco, because hey! I'm kind of forced to do that now.
But the computers don't matter here. What matters is my work.
I know it's important. When I actively try to deny it I get loudly reminded that it's something I need to be doing.
And I've been doubting and denying far too much lately.

This isn't the only huge issue I'm being pushed to deal with right now.
In the big picture, really, I couldn't care less about the computers. Like I said, I'd be happier without them. But that simple assertion hides within it an old thought that is more damaging than I ever realized. And the event that forced me into that realization is what is causing me to be so distressed today, re-routing this maddeningly directionless dolor into my technological concerns.
The computers don't matter. What irony, to realize that today, of all aching days.
Apparently, there are a few 'deep' emotional problems I've never dealt with because I had no idea they existed, or could exist. Now I'm reading Huxley's Island more studiously than I read my textbooks, and it's giving me insights that are so sharp and accurate it's rather disturbing. I've had to close the book and take a deep breath a few times already, as if I had just caught myself from falling off a cliff. I'll read sentences that describe my life so accurately it frightens me, because I didn't realize I was that dysfunctional on those levels.
Ironically, the level I clearly know that I'm dysfunctional on is still the worst.
But we'll get to that.

I'm feeling disconcertingly 'detached' today, and there's a worried anxiety gnawing at my ribs. It's the dry sort, though. It's the kind that feels like standing in the middle of an empty parking lot as thunderclouds roll in, and the air is choked with the smell of ozone. The wind whips around you, almost intangible in the coffin-warm air, foreboding. It's not a nice feeling.
I used to call these 'Julie days,' before I learned that she was just as much a casualty as I was. These are shadow days, ego days, hours that fester in the interim between headaches and fever sleep. I don't like it.
And yet, in trying to prevent these days, I perpetuate them. In trying to traverse deeper into love, in trying to open my heart a little more, I find myself forgetting closeness, forsaking affection, closing my heart. Every time. I don't understand this.
I know what happened last night, and yet I don't. Laurie insists we talk about it, and so we will. Friday, maybe.
But the point is this: whatever last night triggered-- and maybe it just dug this up yet again, the parasite that refuses to die-- today, I fell into fragment mode.
No, no splinters. They're gone for good. But this is what the fragmented one felt like. It wanted nothing, nothing at all; it rejected everything, pushed everything away, denied and forgot and renounced it all. No exceptions. And it makes sense, when it is here. Whenever it is here, it makes perfect sense. My perceptions seem to be colored by circumstance, even when I am present. Why does the same state of mind feel so incomparably different, depending on when I feel it? Why does the emptiness beckon with both bright and dark? Why do I still seek nothingness? I'm supposed to be using stars to fight this entropy, but I've been rejecting Timeheart for the false light of the void. And yet the irony sticks around. I always seem to find myself caught up in paradoxes.
Genesis showed up to say hello this morning, to see how I was feeling, and I told him to leave. Not out of malice, no, but simply because I didn't want him around.
Indifference is deadlier than enmity.

It's been three months since that hellish night of January 17th, and in a sick, sick way, that night was more beautiful than last night was. Why? Because I could feel, three months ago. Because even though I was bleeding and sobbing and praying for death or deliverance, Xenophon was standing there by me, telling me that she still loved me even with the new gashes on my chest. Even though I felt worthless and abhorrent and twisted beyond forgiveness, Chaos was there to offer just that, holding true to unconditional love when I was convinced I had thrown it away, convinced that I had sinned irreconcilably against him, against life itself. And even though I lied and manipulated and hurt and deeply damaged both myself and the innocent, with a bloody knife in my shaking hand, Laurie still put her life on the line for me, to jump in the line of fire, to try to save me from my own vicious contrition when I was the one desperate for bleary red retribution.
“Truly, it is in darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us.”
Does it work the opposite way as well?
Last night there was no blood, there were no tears, there was no sickness or fury or self-hatred. But last night felt dead, somehow.
It is in light that one finds the darkness... I need to go beyond.
I am so, so sick of this duality.

The computers don't matter. But that disconnection is only one symptom of a deeper disease.
I've been hiding behind my cool kid shades for too long. I may be the Seer of Love, but I keep forgetting that at heart, love translates to sight. And to see something, it takes time.
Time. Dare I say... how ironic?
Three months ago I swore, bitterly, that I would cast off my secondary title forever. In that moment of deep remorse I hated it.
But time didn't hate me.
She never did.

Genesis noticed something about me, the other day. I have a habit of becoming so hopeful, so enraptured with transcendence and the life beyond the physical, that I forget that I still exist in the physical. I forget that I still have a body to take care of. Yes, even with my worrying about my health lately. Life feels like a movie, a video game, a fantasy. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality, you know? But what if I can't tell what 'reality' is most days, and doubt every single sensory perception I have? If I treat everything as false, then what is real? The answer is nothing... nothing really matters to me.
In direct contrast to my current Care Bears addiction, I haven't really been caring much about anything today. Only today, mind you! This only started after last night, and that's what's unsettling here in spite of the dearth of emotion. Last night only happened because I cared. I cared so much, so honestly, that for a few hours I wasn't afraid. Then I woke up, and... well. Then I washed my hands of all of it. Then I woke up and wanted to erase everything, again.
I used to think I wanted to turn back the clock, to return to the 'old days' of childhood when all I had to worry about was writing, drawing, composing. But as I thought about the events that surrounded my work, I realized that I did not want to turn back, ever. The family life, the school events, everything that swirled around outside me back then was repugnant. Even thinking back to the 'golden' times-- the forts in the living room, the jelly sneakers and squirt guns, the class plays, the violin store-- felt wrong, because I knew they were all just crystal bubbles in a sea of sleep.
I didn't want my old life. I wanted the sense of ultimate non-attachment, of freedom from everyone and everything. I wanted to become identity-less, a watcher, a channel. I wanted to cease to exist as an individual, like I did back then, but only when I worked. I would create and dream and love it all, without a thought to myself. Once I started writing about my own story... things fell apart.
Things fell together, too. That's what's making me sick about this.
Since 2002, when I met Ryman and Markus, my life took a completely different path, leading me to Chaos and Genesis and Laurie and so many others... but at the price of those friends, I almost lost contact with others. And even now, I find myself wishing I could 'go back' to the time before that happened more than I'd like. It's not just wanting to strengthen my original links. It's also about wanting to get rid of the new ones.
I overheard Laurie talking to Chaos today, just a little bit as I was feeling too apathetic to do much. But two things stuck out.
One, she thinks I love her more than I love Chaos, in a way, because of my hardwired 'innocence' drive.
Two, she thinks I love the Dream World more than I love anyone upstairs, family or not.
I can't affirm or deny either of those thoughts of hers. And frankly right now I am too tired to think about it, because yes, my mind is still in utter 'reset' mode, and nothing in the world matters right now except detaching from reality. Homework? Not finished, as usual, probably not going to be. Sleep? Haven't been getting enough, won't get any tonight at this rate. Family? Haven't spoken to them all day, upstairs or downstairs. I'm sitting here listening to the LG*Girls soundtrack and feeling like someone punched a hole through my ribs because all of a sudden, I can't type on Dream World. Silly, I know. If only there was a better way to write it all down. But until I print everything out, there's this ridge-raw gap in my soul and only those old dream friends of mine seem capable of healing it. There's a light to them that just... illuminates things. It's hard to explain.
But they're the single reason why my childhood was beautiful, the single reason why so many of my old memories are lit with sunlight and sparkles and forest mornings. Without them, it might have been mundane, forgettable, maybe even banal. But with them, even the simplest things became a heaven. To this day, everything they touch turns to gold. Not even Laurie or Chaos has done that, as far as I can remember. I don't know how to explain it.

In a way, I do want to let go of all these connections. I want to let go of the daily worries about headspace and waking friends and all that nonsense. It's tying me down.
But... in a way I don't. I can avoid them for weeks and not be bothered, but then one day I'll suddenly hear him instead of a catastrophe or I'll look up in shock at the wrong name or something small like that will happen, sharp enough to pierce my armor... and even if I deny it, even if I pretend it's just a knee-jerk emotional reaction, it will light a desperate flame in my heart for something I'd long forgotten. But I still won't care. I won't care until suddenly he's there or she's calling me and in a sudden snap I can see them, just barely, vaguely, distantly. But it will be clear enough, and I'll see her scars or his eyes or her tiny face, and maybe in that moment the emptiness will fade to light and I will beg forgiveness, I will plead reconciliation for ever wishing they were gone.
Even now, and I know without a doubt, if I lift my eyes from this screen and look at one of the many pictures of him on this wall, my tense expression will immediately soften, and I'll find myself smiling, either with joy or with tears. If my mind is quiet at the time I'll notice that I'm starting to fall into that old feeling. But I hesitate, and when it speaks again... why does it always bring that up? Why does that feel awful, even now, after everything? Why can't I figure that out?

There are two things that make me forget all about these connections.
1. Series work. It somehow overshadows everything else in importance.
2. Trying to fix the deepest dysfunctions.

The moments immediately after they try to give everything to me are the emptiest. I was hollow before but then I become devoid, uncaring in total spite of the love that I know, I know with unfailing certainty they have for me. In the past I almost used to hate them, as frightening as that prospect is, but I knew half of it was projection. Now I just... don't care.
I think that's why Laurie is afraid I love her the most.
She's the most innocent one of us here, in that sense, which is strange and oddly contradictory. She's seen more than I'm aware of and yet less than I know. She has learned of the bloody details and shameful elaborations alike. But she's somehow avoided all the levels that even Genesis jumped up to reach. With her there's no romance, no passion, no intimacy. And because of it I adore her.
I am absolutely terrified sometimes, when she decides "why the hell not" and is a little more honest, a little less inscrutable than usual. I don't know how to deal with that blurring of lines, that sudden shift from a brutal and inviolable soldier to a compassionate and somehow even more sacrosanct angel. I am terrified because sometimes there's a color to her eyes that I don't recognize, but it's all too familiar just the same. I am terrified because if she ever does cross that line, the point of no return, she would become unreachable.
She got close to me one night and I had no idea how to reconcile the blissful sincerity with the paralyzing dread.

Speaking of dread. She's the only person I can feel around right now.
Chaos tried to connect with me last night and I couldn't feel anything. He was shocked and was trying to laugh it off but I know it worried him more than he'd dare let on. Here's the soul I've effectively promised to share my life with, and I don't feel anything with him. But when Laurie walked in almost two hours later, to see if I was okay, I felt that familiar glow of childlike excitement, nervous but bright. Then she walked over to where I was and put one arm around my shoulders, trying to lighten the mood, and my own disposition turned from sunny to startled.
At that same time I was aware of a heart-wrenching gap in my chest but couldn't figure out why. Here we are, the five of us; if there's so much love here, why do I feel so scraped out and cold? Why do I feel like either something is missing, or that there's far too much, and can't tell the difference at all? I could have cried but in reality I knew I'd wear a poker face no matter how many tears fell elsewhere. The split was too much to bear.
And yet, could I handle this if there wasn't a split? On these days, when I wake up wanting to be utterly alone and distant, could I handle it if I woke up to see him, to see her? Even as I type I know the answer is no, in stark contrast to my desire to be with them somehow, some way. I keep waking up and looking at my left hand, wondering why I keep feeling a wedding ring there when I've never had one, let alone a wedding to get one from. I keep thinking about weddings when I wouldn't have one if you paid me and I think I'm getting lost in symbolism, in shapeless concepts.
Still, the pain in his eyes when he realizes I still can't see him never fails to tear me apart inside.


This negativity isn't me, and it's bugging me.
But who am I, really? Watashi wa dare? Even that movie feels wrong.
I'm sick of consuming. I want to create. I can create. I will. I am.

I'm rambling. I'm tired. I need to sleep but don't want to. I want to sleep but don't need to.
I still don't feel like eating and I can't tell if I'm sick or healthy anymore.
This old fearful reality is terrible. Please, end already. Please.
I miss my family and I miss my children and I miss my daughter and I miss my friends.
And yet I can't feel anything. Why not?


I'm a mess. I can't think straight and I'll probably look at this entry tomorrow, laugh, and say "what in the world was I smoking to write such a depressive thing?"
I know. I'm trying not to laugh now, because laughing makes it even less important than I'm trying to make it now. And even if this is all fleeting and temporary et cetera, it is still important. Even the smallest things contribute to the big picture, sometimes in surprisingly significant ways. Right now, though, I've got my eyes closed and I'm wishing I was the picture and didn't have to keep pretending to look at it from the outside anymore.
I keep forgetting I have things I was meant to do and experience first, I guess. Life is meant to be lived.
It wasn't meant to be lived alone either.

What a surreptitious ego. I thought Holy Saturday had changed you. Didn't it?
I can't tell if I'm overlooking things or looking too deeply now.
Where did she come from now? She was here three months ago, crying, shaking, shouting. Now she's smiling.
But I remember the blood lotus, it had her face, it had mine too, and the past is a jumbled mess that I still can't decipher.
I don't want to decipher it though.
Even though she loved me and for that short while I did love her, when all was said and done I wished we had never met.
Now I find myself regretting it all, even as I try to find distant fragments of our past. When she is separate from me she is beautiful, enchanting, mysterious. When she looks at me with that crystal-blue smile I feel an awful regret rising in my bones, a sort of dismal bitterness at having such a bright thing suddenly become so personable. Don't bring me into this. Don't make me a thing, a person, an object. Stay free and elusive in your poppy-eyed wonder, as gorgeous as the first time I saw you. If I would love you unconditionally, why does that flame suddenly flicker when you return the sentiment? Why do I always leave you clutching cold embers to your verdant heart? Not just you, but all of them. I would love you to the end of time and beyond, as long as you never looked at me like that, as long as you never made me remember that I existed too. The fatal condition.
That can't be right.
I do love you. I love all of you. But it feels somehow wrong for you to reciprocate.
Sometimes I still feel that loving you is wrong.
It can't be. This is love, isn't it?
I don't understand.

Attention, attention. Here and now, boys, here and now.
Is enlightenment supposed to feel this vacant?
I'm thinking too much. What a joke!

So about those finals...
They went surprisingly well, don't worry! So that's done and over with but I apparently had some bad burnout from all the stress leading up to it, as I was sick yesterday and woke up today feeling more achy and exhausted than I have in weeks.
Ah well. It's over with now, or at least until the spring semester starts on January 17th.

In the meantime I have a lot to do.
My schedule for today has been booked solid. I've had about an hour of free time so far and unfortunately my mind got badly distracted during it. It's frightening when that happens. I found some beautiful music, sure, but why does it start to wander whenever I'm faced with a heavy responsibility? It's hard to catch and reel back in, because I'm still shackled to it whether I like it or not. It's not 'angry,' it's just scared and very rebellious. I feel that I want, need, to do things and it says 'no,' stubbornly and without reason. It complains and sulks and yet it's somehow strongly fearful deep under the surface. I don't like that it's dragging me down. I want to ignore it but that's another bad move. At least I can realize that. I'm not as in-tune with myself as I need to be, but I'm getting better. I had someone verbally attack me today but I was somehow able to stay rather conscious, and didn't attack them in return. It hurt, but I kept everything in check as best I could.
I borrowed "The Nature Of Reality" from the local library about three weeks back. What with finals, I wasn't able to read much of it, but I definitely need to get myself a copy of it soon. The little I already read has helped quite a lot. I still have a small amount to finish in TPON, and I have two other books set aside for right after I complete it, but I can't forget about this one either.
Back on topic, though. I'm still very out-of-tune and I'm figuring out why, slowly. Paradoxically, I'm in a good state and a very bad one at the same time. I have to go beyond that. I have to open my eyes a little more... well, more than a little, at this point.

My biggest concerns right now are these:
1. I'm still ignoring, downplaying, faking, and/or criticizing my own emotions. When I'm upset I deny it. When I'm sad I hide it. When I'm happy I blow it out of proportion or condemn it. And I keep either pushing my own feelings under the surface whenever those of others come up, or completely ignoring both theirs and mine and turning into a coldhearted machine. Some part of me has become too complacent, too nonchalant... too apathetic, too empty. Even so I am still clearly aware that said part is not me, so I'm consciously trying to overcome it. It's unsettlingly difficult though. I... it was a few weeks ago already, but there was one night after a severe hack that I was absolutely torn apart emotionally, but I shut off. I was in pain to the point where I wanted to scream and even cry, but I was silent and stone-faced and I said nothing... and once again, I forgot that Chaos Zero is an empath. He picked up on what I refused to show, and ended up sobbing uncontrollably for the next hour. I was sitting next to him with a blank expression and a shattered heart, knowing that I was fully responsible but at a loss as to how to stop it, what with how hollow I somehow was despite the intense emotional pain he was reflecting back to me. Eventually it broke through my armor, true, but the situation as a whole scared us all to death. Still, in a painful way I think we needed that to happen to realize that this is a serious problem. Ironically, we also have the second concern to worry about on top of it.

2. My pain addiction came back from where I had also pushed it aside. I was upset enough to even ask Julie and Dagger about it the other day-- yeah, I know, usually I run to Laurie but I figured they'd have interesting viewpoints-- and it did help, but it also confirmed that yes, the lingering shadow up here is still running rampant. It's not my 'splinter,' though. It's not manic or hysterical or suicidal. Those feelings have been hitting me in bursts here and there, which is deeply disturbing, but I refuse to let them affect me. Regardless, the shadow is there... and I know I can't get rid of that outright, although I used to think I could. We all have some dark to balance the light in this world, I guess. The problem is, I somehow keep forgetting that 'balancing it against you' and 'letting it desecrate you' are two totally different things. I still have that old idea that "the more I suffer and the more staunch I am about it, the stronger I am." I'm putting myself through hell right now and not saying a word (or, suffocating it in rainbows and sunshine to make it sound like a 'good' thing,' in emotional refusal) because I have this twisted notion that biting the bullet will make me a better man. This ties into the first problem, obviously, and it's getting bad. It's not the worst problem though, but I'll list number three before I get to that one.

3. I've realized that I seem to like the idea of things more than I like the actual things. This hit me hard when my Homestuck book came in the mail-- yes, I was glad to have it because I am deeply inspired by the comic and I like having a physical copy to peruse at leisure, but on the purchase level it felt completely useless. I love the comic, so I 'bought' the book as a gesture of appreciation, and for that reason alone. I simply wanted to say, 'thank you for creating such a beautiful thing.' If I never received the book, I don't think I would have cared. Or, if I received it and then promptly gave it back, or away, I would still be happy. I just don't like owning things, or having things in my 'possession' whatsoever. When I was younger I collected Celebi items and Care Bears, true, but it was because I loved the idea of them. I loved what they represented, what they brought into my life. If I saw a beautiful Celebi card online, I would stare at it and admire it and I would want to show how much I liked it. So, as I knew no other way to do so, I would buy it. And then when it came in the mail, it would feel so awkward and weird, and I would put the card away and never look at it again. The 'magic,' the feeling of gratitude, would be lost once it was 'mine.' It's hard to explain, but that concept explains a lot of what I do, including how I deal with relationships. I don't 'commit' to only one person, and I don't like people 'committing' to only me in the same way. The exclusivity feels totally wrong. I'll love people from afar and it will be perfect, but as soon as they start trying to get closer or intimate or the like, it freaks me out and I often shove them out of my life in an instinctual reaction. I apologize for that, but it has happened several times already. It's not just because of my aversion to 'romance' (whatever that really is), it's also because of the thought that suddenly this free 'idea' of a person will become something solid and attached. It's why I have troubles keeping friends. I like first 'making friends' because you have that initial impression, that wonderful spark of a person, but once they become your 'friend' for good, it feels like a burden, a weight. It feels like now they have been labeled and stuck into a box-- 'my friend,' instead of 'that person I don't know but I really love them as people.' I think it's why I never stopped loving Alex or Jena. They stayed far away, they stayed their own people, they stayed free and unbound to me. And it gave me the freedom to love them without feeling trapped. I still don't know why that transition from distant beauty to close stranger happens, or why exclusive or 'possessive' connections to people or things put me off so badly. And that's where I segue into the biggest concern.

4. Chaos and I haven't connected in months. Maybe it sounds like no big deal at first-- we didn't really connect for several years after 2005 happened, after all-- but now, with everything that has happened this year, it is a huge deal. I have been in shocking emotional pain from it, not in a 'negative' or 'wanting' way (heavens no), but in the sense that I feel like I'm missing something that I seriously need. Which is obviously the case. However, with the stress I've been under, the immense effort I've been putting into improving myself spiritually, and the fact that I am regularly so exhausted that I can barely spend ten minutes with Chaos once the day is out (and even then I can barely reach him), I just haven't been able to get that. We've tried, but the circumstances haven't been working. And it's caused all my other problems. One: I know that I can't be with him at the moment so I'm ignoring that, denying the fact that I do want to be with him, and, sometimes, telling myself that I'm 'ridiculous' for feeling that love at all. Where the heck did that come from? Two: Total soul connections really hurt, but in a positive way. I'm unconsciously looking for whatever pain I can get to replicate that, but it always falls either drastically short or in a vastly different way. I'm literally harming myself right now and I'm aware of that, but it is so hard to fight off. Three: I'm getting my 'ideas' mixed up. I am still so naive that I see my own childlike ideals reflected in everything, and fail to notice that it's only a projection (another thing I have to quit doing). As a result this has been making problem number 2 absolutely hellish, because I've been seeing redemptive qualities in terribly harmful things, when in fact those qualities were never there to begin with. I use terms and phrases and quotes that mean the exact opposite of what I'm trying to express, but I don't even realize that because I see something totally different in how they apply to me. I redefine them and forget to tell everyone else, and then I'm surprised when I find myself walking down the wrong road, because I misinterpreted the signposts. Maybe I have too much hope. But my heart is aching for that blue alien and the thought that that could be labeled 'possessive' by some stretch of the definition terrifies me. I just want to love him is all. I don't want him to be 'mine,' ever, not like that. But is it even a moral issue? If I want to love him forever but don't want to possess him in any sense, is that a paradox? I don't know. And that is holding me back from making the extra effort to be with him even now. I'm suffering, he's suffering, we're all feeling the side effects of this disconnect... and yet I don't want to mess up. There's a lot more to this concern (and the third one) that I've not mentioned here, simply because it scares me and I can't really understand it myself yet. My schedule is too booked for a Xanga session today and maybe even tomorrow, but if I have a free Sunday then we are talking, because this is shaking me up badly.

5. ...I'm worried about Xenophon. She's okay, but... she is really, really worried about me. She was riding in the car with me yesterday as I went to mail some packages, and she told me that Metropolis (which we all watched on Monday night) made her think of not only herself, but also of me. Long story short, she had two thoughts that were haunting her: one, I was still asking "who am I?" even when I knew the truth, simply because everyone else was telling me different stories, which scared her, and two: sometimes she asks herself the same question. She told me that when she ghosts, and she realizes that only I can see and hear her, it frightens her sometimes and makes her wonder if she's really there at all. I reassured her, repeatedly, that she was, but she's still very upset by it. I'm not too sure what to do about that (other than everything I possibly can), but it's really hurting my heart to know that she's feeling like this.
Luckily for her I'm going to see the local Philharmonic perform tonight, so she gets to hear that music and see the city all lit up and everything else that goes with it. I want to show her everything. I want her to experience as much beauty and love as she possibly can. Her appearance in my life made me suddenly realize how beautiful and amazing life is, no matter what, and I want to share all of that with her.
However I think I have to fix myself first. She insists I'm a great father, but I still have demons to battle, and even if she can only see their shadows clawing at me that's more than enough motivation for me to chase them away for good. I don't want to hurt her, especially not unintentionally. That always seems to be the start of everything.


...There's one wild card in this equation that has me completely confused, uncertain, and terrified.
I've been able to see and feel Chaos more clearly than ever lately, but this only started happening after I was certain I'd damaged him irreparably.
...I didn't.
I let my pain addiction and false misguided hopeful ideas get the best of me, but there was one moment where both of us were actually conscious and I was completely honest and now I can't tell if I won or lost or even what I was even doing in the first place. All I know is that there was an entirely positive result from something I judged as entirely negative, and I can't see straight anymore.
This is the equivalent of my personal moral perspective being flipped upside down and then thrown across the room.
There's one quote that's haunting me. "It can be enlightened... or not." It's so simple but I'm trying so damn hard I can't remember what it means. Why am I still painting everything in black and white? Doesn't that still apply here? Or am I mistaken? Where in the world did I even get the criteria to judge this by? I don't know. I honestly do not know what to think, because I have seen and felt some absolutely horrible things concerning this topic and my mind is still in paralyzed static from last Thursday and that isn't helping me cope at all.
I'm a mess and I don't know what to do, and it's even worse because he didn't get lost at all and that is the scariest part of this to me.
He was beautiful, but when he tried to bring me in it felt so terrifyingly wrong that I wanted to shut down right that instant. There was nothing wrong with him, at all, even in the same situation. But me... with me it was disastrous, abominable, malignant. Why in the world is there such a dichotomy between us there? Didn't we fix this? Or was I so focused on him, on the unfailing light I saw in him, that I forgot about myself and the shadows that somehow always follow? Why is that, every time we swear that this is fixed, suddenly another side reveals itself and then we have to fight this war all over again?
Oh wait. No. I get it now.
Chaos was blameless because he only held the idea. I was the damned one because I gave my hope to him and took on all the extraneous things. Good intentions are the path to hell, but what the hell was I even trying to do? I'd lay my life down for him but ironically this is going too far. Isn't it? I didn't do anything I'd judge as blameworthy in others. Why is it so horrific when it's applied to me, if all I wanted was to give him what I would never take myself, and allowed only him to have?
Either I'm wrong or he's wrong or we're both wrong, and I'm seriously thinking it's the first one and I don't know how to deal with that. Not with what I've been through.

I don't know what to do about this.
Genesis wants to spend time with me tonight because I swear to you, I am spending all of next Friday with Chaos no matter what it costs me. But... I'm more fragile than I want to admit. Yeah, I like being 'vulnerable' and honest and open, but only when I'm alone. As soon as you bring someone else into the picture, I shatter. Or least that's what I'm doing now.
Maybe it's because of that wild card. I thought about being with Chaos today, for barely five seconds, and I nearly started sobbing because I felt so overwhelmingly sensitive it was almost impossible to handle. It felt like my heart was broken, but only because it was on the verge of shattering anyway and he was the only person who had dared to reach out and touch it. And normally I don't mind that. I don't mind how positively defenseless he makes me feel. Now, though... now that wild card has made me so emotionally raw that I can't even bear the thought. I love him and I am honestly scared to be with him right now because I don't understand that side of myself anymore, and I know that I can't hide a damn thing around him. I'll suddenly want to give him my heart and soul and then nothing makes sense anymore and I'm afraid of how far I'd go to do that right now.
I can't even fix this by talking to him. I know, I've tried, and this has finally gone beyond my capacity to discuss with him.
Laurie tried helping me with this before, but that was when it was still simple and we were still blind to the details. Now I can't even comprehend it and it's driving me absolutely mad, because "what if I'm wrong" and "what if I'm right" and "didn't I already know the answer to this" and "even if I do have the answer what if it's not the whole picture" and I cannot deal with this anymore.
I can't solve this from the same position that started the problem, but I'm afraid that if I change my footing then I'll get irredeemably lost.
Everyone I ask gives me the answer that everything inside me screams "no" to. Some almost convince me to change my mind, but then they go and do or say something that reminds me of the static or the tar and I'm left paralyzed. There's too much of a split here. I cannot reconcile this issue.
I cannot come to a conclusion here, not when one side is sheer agony and the other side is him.

Nothing makes sense right now.