I'm used to the "correct, polite" response being "ignore your troubles, paint on a smile, and man the heck up" but honestly, that is an incredibly unhealthy mindset no matter what my family says.
I may feel filthy and ashamed for talking about this, but I need to. I need to express this, if only to get it out.
Phone call this morning, from the mother. She tells me that insurance is refusing to cover my therapy bills, and that I can't go anymore. She proceeds to sob to my grandfather how I'm burning through all her money, that I "won't get better" et cetera. Now the grandfather is angry at me, for "wasting my mother's money."
Nevermind that they both
demanded I go to therapy twice weekly, and not to quit, because they both also insist that "I'm not making any progress" simply because I can't be "normal and healthy" like my brothers. I'm really sorry. I don't like being like this either. And I'm sorry you can't see any progress. Maybe the progress I've been thinking we've made isn't real progress. In any case I don't want to take your money anymore. I'm sick of being a thief. I'm sick of making my family members cry. I'm sick of being the cause of every fight and breakdown in this household, like I've been since my childhood. I really don't want to be that person. So I'll stop. I'll stop being such a burden. Somehow.
I'll stop it all, right now. I can stop. I'm sure we can stop. We got through
college without therapy, for heaven's sakes, I'm sure we can do this. Laurie will get her wish, we'll have to go back to having at least one Xanga a week, no matter how psychologically tiring they are. Progress needs to be made somewhere.
I keep having sexually abusive dreams, to be blunt. They're
horribly painful and I never feel rested when I wake up. I feel used-up and wrong and scraped-out.
I am so freaking sick of all these "spiritual people" telling me straight-up that I
need to have sex in order to heal, in order to fully integrate positive energy, etc. I am so wretchedly sorry that I can't. I'm scared, it hurts,
I don't want it. I don't hate it anymore, let anyone else do whatever they want, but please, for the love of the God you and I are both trying to reconnect with,
don't tell me it's my only option. It can't be. I hope to heaven that it can't be.
The family money problems are making it worse. I'm trying not to panic, but the pressure keeps rising on all sides and desperation is starting to creep in. Yes, I trust the universe, but... it's scary. I can't deny that.
I really don't have much left to sell. The manga from Spinny's teenage years is still here, I'll try to sell that. But that's it. I keep trying to draw, for the sake of commissions, but everything comes out looking like a 5-year-old scribbled it and although that's fine for
me, I can't exactly make money from it. I don't think so. I'm not sure. I'll try.
...But the biggest frustration is the label everyone else puts on my worth, as a human being. Do you know what I've been hearing, almost constantly, since elementary school?
"Oh, it's too bad you're sick... you're so pretty!" All the time
. My
"prettiness" dictates my value, apparently, just as strongly as it negates all my troubles. It seems that, if you're
pretty enough, people will gloss over everything
not pretty about you.
I dont' want to think about this. I'm tired of people telling me that the only thing "sellable" about me is my looks. Basically, go sell yourself; there's an audience! There's a market!
And I've been considering it. God help me but I have been actively considering it for MONTHS because I can't stand seeing my family suffer, and I'm not sure what else to do for income. But I'm terrified. I keep telling myself, "you put up with it for years the way it is, didn't you?" But I don't remember those years. And the very thought of reliving it makes me shake, and sob, and want to die. Then I go online, and someone is talking about "sacred sex," and I swear I do not want ANYONE but Infi talking to me about that subject, and I don't want hir touching me either.
I skipped my trans* support group last week. I did. I felt horrible, but I skipped it. Last time, there was one too many lewd references, and although I know it was meant as a "joke" I really don't want to expose myself to that. I felt unsafe. I feel stupid and wrong just admitting that. Why the heck would I feel "unsafe?" I don't know, maybe because my subconscious likes to
store that shit and it puts down really ugly roots after so many repetitions.
And yet I can't run. It's everywhere. It's on every website, it's in every crowd. I want to cry, what do I have to do to
heal this, so I won't be so incapacitatingly terrified?
You know what I'm scared of? I'm scared of people
using me for that purpose. I know exactly what "sacred sexuality" is and it has NOTHING to do with "sex," at least not in my book. I'll work with sensuality until the end of time and I will enjoy every moment of it, but the second you try and touch me under the pretense that it's "holy," I swear I'm going to let Wreckage or Razor or Sugar out to deal with you instead. I'm sorry, but I can't.
I'm scared of how
disrespected and
disfigured sexuality is in today's world. Infi is furious at how irreverently and nonchalantly that topic is thrown about. I understand. I actually do, now that ze's around. But... I'm going in circles. I don't know how to protect myself from that without putting up walls again.
Should I? Would that be wiser? I don't want to let that perversion into my mind, for the Tar and Plague to grow from again. But is that horrible resurgence only happening
because I'm so scared? Because part of me is so terrified, it is trying to claw its way free, and tripling the pain? Is the struggle my real damnation here?
I want to let go, let go, of all of it. I'm trying. It just keeps following me. There's some sort of lesson I keep missing, even after all these years.
That's why I'm in therapy. I'm trying to talk about this. I'm trying to release all this pain, and hear responses that we
couldn't think of on our own, because we don't have that perspective. I can't get that from my family or tiny social circle. No one wants to hear it. And yes, the progress is slow, because I am choking on shame and guilt and fear and self-loathing and crushing doubt, but we're moving, bit by bit. No one else can see that. I'm so sorry.
But I can't go anymore, regardless. I need to find another way of healing. I need to be brave. I need to do this on my own, on our own again.
I realized yesterday, when talking to Genesis and CZ, that I keep dissociating when in public because of how I feel I HAVE to respond in order to stay "safe"? I never noticed it to this extent before, but Genesis kept calling me out on it, and then it clicked. My instinct is to smile at people, to
immediately start interacting with even total strangers on a level of close friendship. I automatically and instantly trust people, and I expect them to respond to me in kind, with that sort of sincerity and openness and
active recognition of my status as a blessedly living thing. We're all God's creatures, you know. But then I smile at someone, expecting a genuine smile back-- the kind that is
meant, and not just parroted-- and all I get is a blank stare, or a judging look, or complete ignorance. Even though I know
they're probably acting that way out of fear or "social norms" or distraction, of
course they aren't doing it with malice... still, it's a brick wall instead of a handshake, or even better, an embrace. And then the dissociation kicks in, my own smile turns to paper, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next. I'm learning, but that snap-back isn't easy.
Nevertheless, that's obviously why I'm terrified of this sexuality thing. Like I said, I don't touch the physical aspect of it, and don't want to. But I have no problem with
intimacy, with the "sensual" aspect of it, with that sort of complete open-hearted trust and vulnerability. I
love that, it's arguably what I live for. Except a lot of people don't even realize it
exists in a non-sexual context, and for a similar lot of people, a "sexual context" goes hand-in-hand with vulgarity, or flippancy, or objectification, or... well. Worse things.
So I
know there's a risk. And I don't know if I even
should present myself as-is, with that in mind, because I don't want to be taken advantage of again. Where is the line, between prudence and fear? How much of myself do I have to hide in order to stay safe, to be wise? I
don't want to. I shouldn't have to. That sort of conscious obfuscation goes against my very nature. But I don't know.
I want to talk to someone about this, besides my therapist. Maybe we really do just need to start talking inside more... but again, that's almost unnecessary. I DON'T have to hide, in the inner realms... at least... wait, that's a good topic to segue into. It's the most painful one I have and God knows I want this
settled, without any bitterness or regret.
This quote just showed up on my Tumblr dashboard and I think it summarizes the problem well:
"We assume others show love the same way we do — and if they don’t, we worry it’s not there." I told my therapist yesterday, that my brain struggles with the very concept of "relationships" because of how that term was defined in my past.
If someone "loved" me, they were either using me for lustful and malicious ends like Julie... OR they were using me as a codependent attachment, like my family.
Furthermore, I
was always told that if someone "liked" you, it meant they wanted a
romantic relationship with you. I was told that I
couldn't have "just friends" because that meant I was "blind" or "lying" or otherwise unaware of the "truth."
All my "friends" who were younger than me, would use me. They'd steal and break my possessions, they'd order me around, they'd physically attack me. All because they "wanted attention" or wanted me to DO something for them. All my friends of the same age were either romantically interested in me, or too close to that for comfort.
I don't want to talk about this. It makes me ill and sick to my stomach.
The point is... I'm still learning that I CAN have friends who don't want to date me, or have sex with me. I'm still learning that I CAN have friends who aren't just my 'friends' because they want something from me, or worse, because they want me to dedicate my life TO them. I'm so used to that.
Genesis and CZ can act like that a lot. They both have emotional issues dealing with self-worth that cause them to look to me for validation, or something. Genesis will want me to act a certain way, and when I can't, he gets angry. Same with CZ, but he gets sad more. The problem is, it's
"I want you to respond to me in a certain way because that would make me feel loved." THAT'S the context they recognize love in, personally. But I can't always speak that language, so to speak. I
can't be romantic. I've
tried, and it sabotaged me, you all know.
My problem is that I feel no need to be in a relationship at ALL, not in that way. I don't like attachments, I don't like having that label to live up to. I don't like knowing someone has feelings for me that I can't reciprocate in that way, or receive in the sincere way they deserve.
So yes I love them. It's just non-romantic, and it doesn't need reciprocation. I've given that a lot of thought and it's true. Yes, it's nice to know someone
loves you, because then there's a mutual compassion between the two of you, and that's beautiful. But when someone is
in love with you, it gets weird. When someone only shows their love in THAT context, I get acutely uncomfortable, I get bitter, I get angry and sad because
I can't understand that sort of love and I am
so sorry that I can't. I can't even tell the difference anymore, in other people, because my brain flat-out
can't comprehend one of them. How can you know the "difference" when you see only one side?? So I jump to conclusions everywhere, to
their benefit of the doubt, according to the only option I've been given, according to what I can't see but have been told is always there. "
They're in love with me." And most of the time they
are. And it's beautiful, that they feel that way, but I can't... I just can't
understand it, not like that. I can't give it back to them either. I feel like I
have to, but I can't.
That's the problem. That's what I've been denying since 2011 or earlier, with those two. No matter how heartbroken it makes me feel,
I cannot give them the sort of relationship my "past selves" may have been able to give them, but that doesn't diminish the amount of love I have for them. I'm not Eros, I'm not Spinny, I'm not Jewel. I can't be romantic, I can't do the whole "boyfriend" or "husband" thing. And yes I love Xenophon, but I just don't think I can be the "father" she deserves. That breaks my heart more than anything, but she deserves so much more than a confused man trying to fit the label and failing. Bottom line, I need to stop forcing myself to perform according to what's "expected" of me. They don't realize I'm doing that-- no one ever does, upstairs or downstairs, because I know exactly what people
want from me-- and when I admit it they're hurt, they're confused, "
you mean it was all an act?" No, it was just a mistranslation. It was me forcing my honest affection into a format
you were comfortable with,
because I love you, but
not in that context. Unfortunately that context was what you wanted, sincerely, but the problem was that you wanted it
from me and I
cannot give that to you. Find someone else, please. You deserve to be happy. So do I. This isn't working.
I adore these people, I really do, but I've said it a thousand times and I'll say it again--
I cannot handle close relationships. They wear me out.
"You have to love so that the one you love feels free." And both parties deserve to be free. I keep excluding myself from that. I feel
so selfish every time I say "I can't do this, this feels wrong somehow," and then the awful cycle starts again, with me forcing myself to act against my best interests "
for their sake." It's all because I'm still convinced that "they
love you, so you HAVE to do
everything they say." Honestly, that's getting really close to emotional manipulation whether either party realizes it or not. I just... how can you tell if a relationship is toxic or not, if you really do love the other person, and they really do love you? If it's genuine, but it still doesn't feel right, and it's still exhausting... how can you tell if it's something you should let go of? I don't know whether I want to stay or leave anymore. I feel stuck,
obligated to continue what those before me started, to the letter. I'm just afraid because my brain says "leaving means you don't love them," and that's not true. Leaving the relationship means I'm now free to love them WITHOUT the jail cell of partnership expectations around me. I hope. Geez I have such a bad track record of unintentionally harmful relationships, this is such a tangled mess. Friends, family, partners, coworkers, etc. Everyone always using me as the "go-to guy" for whatever they needed, emotionally or however. I had to be able to give, give, give, no questions asked, "because I love you," "don't you love me," etc. and the problem was... they could give
that back if I needed it,
but I didn't. What I needed was something they couldn't give, just as I couldn't honestly give what they needed either. It's always been like that. It's so frustrating. I've always been "broken," always been "a freak," always been explained away as a "medical malfunction." They say "you're SUPPOSED to want sex, and romance, and relationships." Otherwise, something is "wrong" with me, in a fundamentally massive way. They defined "humanity" as "the ability to feel romantic love," and when I
couldn't, suddenly I became less. I became a robot, an unfeeling thing that they could not trust or get close to.
I am fully capable of love and compassion, just not in the way you're expecting me to. But even I doubt my validity now, and it's sick. It's sick.
I'm so, so, so tired. I want to live without having to constantly gauge my actions depending on "how they will affect those people." Can't go here, say this, do that, etc. because no, all your time HAS to go towards this relationship. Honestly? I don't need it. I never did.
I have enough self-love to last me a lifetime. All I want or need is an audience for my work. I don't necessarily want "friends," I want to give my creativity to these people and watch their eyes light up over it, watch them take it and let it grow. I don't want to be some personal point of focus. I want to be a wellspring. That's all.
Sorry for rambling over this again, I'm just exhausted and I don't know where to go from here.
That's a toxic
paragraph, is what it is. Can I just leave it there, and not re-read it or anything? I need a break. I need a break from ALL this relationship stuff for a while. That's why I've been avoiding headspace, truth be told. What do I do?
David was triggered last night, by something, some sound the grandmother made maybe. Jeremiah jumped up and was standing with his arms out, like he was ready to stand between hell itself and that little boy if need be. I spoke to him for a bit, I remember noticing that he and the two children still lived 'below the ground,' halfway between the Underground and the 'Midspace' level, the ground level. They slept in a small space, where Jeremiah said nothing could reach them unless it went through him. It made me sad to see them still living so afraid, he said it made him sad too, they didn't want to be this way. I said they didn't have to. He said maybe not, but as long as there was a threat to those children, it was hard to act fearless. I said I understood, wondered how I could help them feel safer then.
David was pretending to be asleep, he figured he'd be safer that way. I asked him if I could help him feel safer right then. I forget what the immediate response was, but I ultimately created another security blanket for him-- a fluffy blue one with snowflakes on it. I was 70% asleep at the time so I forget what I said exactly, but the blanket had a special power. If he held it up between himself and an attacker, it would "send snow to their heart," not to freeze them, but to surprise them and stop them in their tracks, surprised by the sudden tiny feeling of ingenuous cold. Like snowflakes, tiny and innocent. And it would make them reconsider, and leave him alone. I also said that if the need ever arose, David could "call me" through that same snowflake blanket, as I was tied to snow. I remember Jeremiah was smiling at all this, I felt bad that I hadn't been doing more prior.
Javier showed up for like 30 seconds at one point too? Before we went down to the kids. He too was mostly asleep, it was adorable. He reassured Jeremiah and then went back to sleep, sorry I can't remember dialogue. I do remember finding it amusing that he slept with a face full of piercings, of course he has no other option but it was funny to see.
I'm trying to get a job. The therapist has been discussing that with us for a while. Our biggest concern is still, "what kind of job can you hold that isn't going to cause psychological overload, and/or a relapse?"
I've tried to hold
several jobs over the years. Some lasted longer than others. And yeah, maybe I
could bite the bullet and continue in a high-stress job, but considering that I'm
already contemplating suicide
just to take the burden off my family, I think adding a soul-sucking job to the mix would be a bad idea.
I hate admitting my failures, my weaknesses, my flaws. Which is surprising, as I am
aware of them; I seek the shadowy things out because I want to get better. But actually admitting them outright? It's like shining a spotlight on all the reasons why my family has to suffer, on all the reasons why I hurt other people, on all the things standing between me and the "good people" of the world. I'm so scared to, because I'm afraid of looking in the mirror and realizing
just how ugly I really am. But I need to man up. I need to just... look. I need to admit that I'm a mess, before I can start trying to fix that.
I can't deal with sensory overload. Either I break down or shut down, when it gets too much. I try not to, but it's involuntary. Too much sensory input, either sound or light or touch, and there's either going to be an explosion of stress, or I'm going to dissociate entirely. I need a job that isn't going to be deafeningly loud, that isn't going to involve people shouting at me or trying to talk to me every five seconds, and that isn't going to batter me with tactile input (I know some people touch you to be friendly but that is
still hard for me to deal with in automated situations so please forgive me).
Fast-paced jobs are the same, because my brain needs a lot of time to process data. Even with my own work, I might have to re-read something five times before it registers. And it might take me hours to do one simple task. It's hell sometimes, because it's horribly frustrating to feel so inadequate and slow, but otherwise nothing gets done at all. So I also need a job that isn't going to force me to work so quickly that I can't comprehend where I even am, let alone what I'm supposed to be doing.
I remember cleaning the photo labs at the university... or at least, I remember the data for it (there's no 1st person data at all, but the vibe is solid). Three hours, in dark quiet solitude, just cleaning the equipment. I remember the smell of the stuff, I remember the color of that tiny orangish light. But I could do that for
hours and never get tired, or overwhelmed, and people praised me for what a good job I did. It worked out well for everyone! My performance wasn't suffering, and so I could GIVE more to people.
I don't mind "manual labor." I PREFER it. I love working with my hands, doing things like sorting or building or cleaning. It's like stimming, in a way. Sensory input-- especially tactile-- demands my total attention or it doesn't register, so when I work with my hands it's almost fascinatingly grounding. But the catch is that I can only deal with one sort of data at once. If I'm trying to listen to something, I can't touch anything, or I won't hear. If I'm working with my hands, I can't be listening to anything, or I'll lose any clear sensation of touch. Sight is weird, as it takes effort to concentrate that along with other senses, but I can do it-- as long as I don't have to talk! You get the idea.
I like moving around too, I like standing and walking. Sitting down makes me depressed and sick. Even at home I have to stand to use my computer.
So there's a list of things I'd like in a job. Am I being a "special snowflake," am I being demanding and prissy and selfish? Maybe. But I also know that if I sacrifice my mental health for the sake of a paycheck, NO ONE is going to benefit from it. If I'm going to be working for someone, I want to be able to work to the best of my ability, I want to be able to exceed expectations without burning myself out. I am a hard worker, I am a dedicated worker, and I will go the extra mile whenever possible, as long as I am not making myself sick in the process. That's all I ask for. Please allow me to have a healthy work environment, and I will make it worth your while.
I DO want to work. I'm not lazy, I'm not selfish, I'm not a waste of space. I keep hearing that but I know I'm not, I don't want to be. I just need... I would like to have a job that makes me feel like I'm really helping, like I'm really contributing, and that requires that I'm not emptying out my mental reserves just to get through each shift. That's all I'm asking. I hope that's not too much to ask.
I'll keep looking. I'll put out the effort and intention, and trust in the universe to deliver. That's really all I can do here. It knows better than I do, with the bigger picture.
That's making me feel more hopeful. I'm glad.
I'm not going to dwell on this anymore, not now. I'm going to continue with my therapy homework-- emotion logs and job hunting, fun stuff actually-- and try to take it easy for today. I have $150 of emergency money right now, thanks to a beautiful friend of mine donating it (seriously God bless you, you have been such a source of hope in my life whether you know it or not), so that's at least some stress of my back. Worst case scenario, it'll pay for some therapy, or the electric bill. But in any case it's a huge help.
However... I don't want to "work in order to pay the medical bills, which I got from trying to stay mentally stable enough to work in order to pay the medical bills..." ad infinitum. Life is so much more than that. Yes, my family insists to this day that "life is work and pain and then you die" but it's NOT, it can be so much more.
My problem is that I don't know how to tap into that. What brings me joy? I don't know. What do I enjoy doing? I don't know.
I'm so used to acting on obligation and expectation that it's hard to tell. I keep trying to force myself to get back into art, but that's the key word:
force. I don't know why, but art holds no joy for me anymore. Seeing
ideas appear on paper does, but that's always so detached from the process. I never
remember drawing things, it's like they just appear in my workspace. I'll keep trying to draw though... I'm the only person who can get the ideas in my head onto paper, or so they say, because every time I buy a commission it turns out more accurate than I could do on my own. But that takes money!
It's ridiculous. If I had extra cash to spend, it would all go towards other people, at this point. I'd give it away left and right. I just... don't
want anything anymore. I have no desire for possessions. Years ago I realized that the only reason I even bought clothing or collectibles was because I had no other way to say "I like this idea! I support your work and hope you create more." So I'd end up with tons of stuff I didn't want or need, because I didn't know how else to say "thank you for putting this bit of your imagination out into the world." Just for their own imagination's sake.
Of course, money always has to go towards daily needs... nevertheless, I could have all the money in the world, but it won't do me any good if I can't
eat anything. That's exhausting problem #2! I get maybe 1000 calories a day, tops. The docs are starting to get worried because every time I come in, I'm lighter than I was previously. I wouldn't complain, except for the weakness and brain fog and low blood sugar. I don't like feeling so tired. But I don't like how sick I get from so many foods. No one knows why! I've had all these tests done, I've had bloodwork, I've had
surgery, still the problems won't go away. Everyone's shrugging and saying "it's psychosomatic" now, and it probably is at this point... but where do I start?
I try to think symbolically. I've read enough spiritual stuff to have a good idea of how alternative medicine views certain troubles of this sort, although that can be even more of an obstacle sometimes (medical paranoia). And I know what internal problems I am still struggling with-- most of which currently involve independence, generosity, and fear of being taken advantage of again (esp. sexually)... all topics I've discussed today. I'm doing what I can. It's just scary, day by day, to never be sure.
Trust is big. Surrender is huge. Maybe I just need to meditate more, stop writing big jambles of text like this, it hurts my head.
I like being at peace. I like the quiet. I
love being in this room, alone, or outside, in the sunlight and trees,
alone. THAT'S what I miss about childhood, or at least from what we know of it. The youngest core was always playing outside, imaginatively, ALONE. There were no people ghosting with her, there were no voices shouting at her from the unknown, there were no headvoices talking and trying to front. It was pure, quiet, blissfully independent solitude. And I want that more than anything.
My biggest obstacle? After so many years have passed, part of me is scared to be alone, solely because of "the dark things that live in me." Honestly? Screw that. I'm not gonna let them touch me. I'm not even going to give them attention. If they rear their ugly heads, I'll look at them, see what they are, say "hm, I will deal with this problem then," and DEAL with it.
I need to stop thinking so hard. I'm fragmenting, the more I do this.
But I've... only ever
been able to "deal with it"
because of you guys, of everyone in headspace. Before them, the cores were stagnant, automated, unmotivated. It's only because of headspace that we've grown, together. Why the heck do I feel like they're holding me back? From
what? Exactly what IS trapping me here? Is it just that feeling, that stupid conviction that I "must sacrifice all autonomy and individuality in order for the 70+ other people in this body to live through me?" Because
that's what I'm doing. I'm "not allowed" to be uncomfortable with what
they want, and I AGREE with that, because I'm being really freaking selfish in saying "no" every time someone else inside is trying to assert THEIR individuality. Who on earth gave the ego a monopoly on this body? Why the heck is it so difficult to live in cooperation here? I'm so tired, there's so many of us, I don't know how to live a physical life as a collective, I don't know. I want to just go inside and
watch. That would be
perfect. Jewel, THAT'S WHY YOU SURVIVED, you never had an identity either and you KNOW it. All you EVER did was "watch," that's what your Links WERE, that's why you have no memory of the body's past, you never knew how to handle it either! You're the one who wanted to "write a book and then die," that's STILL your motivation, you can't deny it, not when you are
literally incapable of fronting in social situations. Don't you see?
We're all we have, and the only reason I'm exhausted is because
I've forgotten how to have this anymore. I miss the heck out of you guys. I miss you
so much. My heart is in excruciating pain every day from how alone I am, from how detached I feel from love and hope and progress, everything you are. But I've numbed out. I can't handle all that pain because to feel it in its entirety would
kill me. But part of me can't lie. Part of me still loves all of you, regardless of labels and fears and all that external bullshit, but that part of me only comes out late at night anymore, when the world is muffled and quiet and dark. When I close my eyes and forget everything else, you're always there, even when some part of me is furiously screaming that you're not, that you shouldn't be. That part of me wants to be alone forever. But that part of me doesn't know how to live beyond that instant gratification, beyond that concept of total freedom. It doesn't know how to
be.
I'm scared to death of all the shadows we still have to sift through, but they are 1000% more terrifying when these spiritual articles are making me feel like I have to do it alone, like it's this damning obstacle and hard-as-hell challenge, something I may never succeed at, with the penalty of death. With all of you around instead... when I stop obsessing over religious perfection, and just
go upstairs, somehow all those shadows cease to be morally humongous and I feel like
maybe we're going to be okay. So why the heck am I convinced that you're the stumbling block? Is it just because I'm sick of being sick? Is it just because my family keeps reminding me that I'm enough of a freakshow
without the "voices in my head" that "need to go away" no questions asked? That's how I've been told to feel. I don't know if I have the luxury of saying no. But I want to. It's weird to want things, but some tiny powerful voice way down in my heart is saying it
does want to be with you, all of you. It wants to stand in the face of all "common sense" and "normalcy" and "political correctness" and "moral rules." It wants to disregard ALL of that, no matter how terrified I am of the backlash from God I've been warned of, because there's a tiny tiny chance that maybe this love I secretly feel is the right thing. Maybe this weird, conflicted, messy as hell, painful but beautiful mess in our mind and heart
is a good thing, or at least a better thing than this numbness and sorrow. Maybe.
I hope it is. I really do.
I'm just so
scared. I'm going to go walk outside, and finish reading
The Neverending Story, and maybe listen to music later, if the mood strikes me. I love enjoying the results of other people's imaginations, I really do. I love being an observer. I just... I want to be able to observe
my own work, if that makes sense? It's the only reason why I obsessively type and sketch and things, I just want to see something coherent and finished, enough to just
stare at. Really, if I could just HAND these documents to someone else and let THEM write the story as they see fit... I don't think I'd mind. I might even
prefer that. Some of these stories I've been writing for almost 10 solid years, and there's
no actual story. There's just concepts, and data, and blueprints. I LOVE blueprints, I absolutely adore writing the spiderweb frameworks upon which a story can grow. But an actual
story? Honestly, I'm not sure I CAN write one. I don't see or understand things the way most others seem to. I'm baffled by conversations, by character interactions, by family histories, by that sort of thing. I can write THINGS, not people. So stories confuse me, because I'm too busy picking out symbolic threads and idea chains and the like.
No wait, that's it! I can't do LINEAR stories. That was the issue!
Mage Angels is DONE, the story is over, but it's like this: I know how it starts, I know how it ends, and I know the framework upon which everything inbetween hinges.
I have no idea what the actual story is. I know NOTHING about the histories or personalities of the characters. And yet I love them, and I love the story, or at least what I understand of it.
Maybe that's why it's hard for me to interact with people. I meet people and I want to know their
framework. I don't care about likes and dislikes unless you have a story behind them, something solid, something branching. I see people as
characters, almost. I want to know what would be on your summary page, if I were to write it. What story are you living? What role have you chosen to play within it? What colors is your life painted with?
I can't answer those questions. I don't have a solid 'self' to answer those questions for. I'm an
observer. I want to be the 'omniscient perspective,' the faceless and formless narrator, with no voice of their own.
I'm rambling again. My apologies. I'm not sure how I got into this topic!
"What brings you joy," they ask?
That does.
Watching imaginations bloom and unfold,
that gives me joy. And honestly, these worlds within me, I want to see them
outside of me, somehow.
I'm going to take small steps towards that. Just put the effort out, and see what happens. I don't care about secrecy anymore. Let it all go out there, let other people catch it and carry it. Let it become something greater than me, bit by bit, until it can survive
without me. THAT is what I want. I want these stories to become
independently existing things.
I've figured it out! Finally I can put words to that need.
All right. I do need to go walk, and finish this book. I'm not sure what's in this entry, ah well, what was said was said.
Best wishes to everyone!
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