When you have a memory like mine, things fade fast. Whether it was and old wound or, just the habit of forgetting, it’s getting old. Ironic. Hard to be sick of something when you don’t remember it. It’s like my mind forgets but my body remembers. Somewhere my body remembers, the lies. The hours, days, months, years I spent being anything but me. The days I spent happy, or comfortable maybe. Comfortable in my own skin. When I felt so, so real. I felt like I was living then.
Now the sorrow is like a painting. The colour doesn’t seep, really. The back of the canvas is still white sort of. Not really, that deep. Everything feels, predetermined. Like I have no control. I want to believe things are, going wonderfully. I’ve got, new and old friends. Both sets are, great. A job I love, money in the bank. My mother is more caring then ever and my sister and I are best friends. I’m going to school for something I know I’ll use and I’m not really dreading anything. Except maybe next Wednesday, and inevitably another fight that was started for no real reason other then to hurt each other, and hope that we show some sort of emotion then.
I know how in, the movies and on TV people say, just before a tragedy that things were just starting to go their way. How wonderful. That thought. Things start looking up. Wouldn’t it be nice? Instead of constant locks, filling and draining of the same water over and over. Sure one’s empty but another’s full. It’s a continuous cycle and while everything’s better everything’s worse. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could remember a time where I thought things were really looking up? Wouldn’t it be nice to know that maybe there is a stable ground to fight for. I feel like I’m, pushing two magnets that repel together. They’ll only ever land half way. I don’t have the strength to really, press them against one another. I don’t really have the strength to fill all the locks.
It’s nice at least, to know it’s not anyone’s fault. Factors are factors and they happen. That, that’s all right with me. I can deal with, working hard on a relationship or watching a family member drift away. I can deal with that. But life is not like hot water. You don’t get used to it. Constant pressure doesn’t lead to strength. It just, makes you tired. Like a game you just can’t get better at.
I watch myself do things wrong. Say things, I shouldn’t. I watch myself remain stagnant. The words have already left me when I think I shouldn’t have said them. My had has already moved when I want to pull it back. I can only hope little things don’t make the real difference. I can only hope she believes me when I say I love her. I want so bad to be happy. I want so bad to lave the twisting logic left back in these posts behind. The stupid ideals and meaningless sorrow. Wouldn’t it be lovely just to live life? Lovely, to really know what it I to live, instead of feeling this removed constant. Where every moment is known, predicted, almost prepared. It’s no wonder we fancy our own immortality. I certainly feel immortal. Like the added weight of days is nothing. Eternity’s pass, not months or weeks.
What happened to my candle in the darkness? What happened to my support?
I am so glad and yet, so upset that I’m not that girl anymore. It was so much easier to be depressed, and have a reason to be. No one really expected much from you. But now I’m not that depressed little girl. But I am so profoundly sad, so much more then I ever was. I couldn’t even tell you why. Maybe you could from these words. But there’s always something. I feel so helpless, knowing often what I’m sad about I can’t fix. Knowing it is not my job, that I do all I can and yet still I’m part of the problem. I feel so bad, so guilty because of the reason. What right have I to b upset because someone else is? That doesn’t seem to make much sense. I keep thinking I want something back, but I don’t remember. I don’t remember what we’ve been through. I don’t remember days and nights we spend together. My body knows but my mind fades. So what can I want back if there was nothing to begin with? I just wish I could make everything better.
Improvement is a two lane road, but to get to the same place both people need to know where it is, and want to get there. You know?
ReplyDeleteYou are stuck in one place, and I wish I could help you. Though I think I have long since given up trying to fill other people's locks.
ReplyDeleteI know what it is like to seem trapped within onself. All there is to do is think endlessly about things which will only get you deeper into the despair. I beleive, that the cure for this is to reach out of yourself, to break out of that prison. To truly make a connection with someone or something in a way that...transcends anything you could ever think about. If that makes any sense. One simply just needs the inspiration in order to realize certain things. And I think, my dear, it is the kind of inspiration that cannot come from within.