Guess I should say something…

I feel like I should explain.. Like I have to justify my anger, my sadness, my time away. To be honest, I should not have to. Those who stand by me should understand… but who are those people anyway?

It’s been one sucker-punch after another. Just when I thought, for one second, that things were looking up – it all fell down. I had to take a few days to cope. Maybe I will need a few more.

Because the thing is, it is really difficult to go through this life alone. I know people are “there”… but they’re there for a quick vent, so we can go back to their problems. They’re there for gossip. They’re there to compete with me. They’re there for their own ulterior motives, and if anyone is actually there for me, I don’t know who they are.
And that’s not to say that no one cares. I have many who do. They have their own lives, their own problems, their own friends. They have no room to have me close. I don’t fit. And that is not their fault. I do no not hold that against them. It is just the way it is.

So I cry alone.

And during this time I’ve taken, I feel guilty. What if someone needs me? What if someone believes I’m unwilling or unable? But I don’t know how to rectify this, because how do you say

If you need me, I can be here.
If you want to be the one I need, I’m open.
But if you’re just going to throw meaningless bullshit my way, leave me the fuck alone.

When I dare to speak the truth, they think me hateful, cruel. They think me broken, damaged, unstable. But the truth is, I’m no more unstable than any one of them. I just don’t deny it. I don’t try to hide my mess in the shadows. It’s in the light for all to see. Because

I
Am
REAL.

But reality is far too much for many to handle. They shut it down, avoid it, tell themselves it’s something else. Whatever it takes to keep their worlds intact. And I don’t blame them.. I used to be one of them. I used to be able to numb myself and convince myself that it was okay. But that artificial life wasn’t enough for me. I had to break free of the robotic cage and allow myself to feel fully.

So here I am, feeling. And yes, it can be painful – even crippling at times – but when allowed, joy easily overpowers the pain, and the beauty of life is wonderous. Still, it is a lonely way of living. For one who loves so strongly, loneliness is a constant reminder of a purpose unlikely to ever be fulfilled. And surrounded by those I love, who cannot see the deep cuts from the shards of my shattered heart, the loneliness is overwhelming. So I must keep my distance as I heal, and remember that when I am ready, they will remember me.

I’m Sorry.

I’m sorry I’m not back yet – back to being attentive, happy, myself. I know this is temporary, but it feels a lot less temporary with every passing day. I just want to be past it. I want to pull myself out of this.

But it’s a lot, you know?

We don’t all have best friends to stand by us. Some of us are alone in this. Some of us are taking it all on ourselves, then just when we think we can’t take anymore, twice as much is thrust upon us. It’s all we can do, to bear the weight.

So please, appreciate the people who you can turn to with anything. It’s okay if you can’t return the favor – you can’t be everything to everyone – but make sure you’re not taking them for granted.

Survival isn’t easy when you’re alone in the world.

And when you get the chance, love. Honest love can get you through anything, you just have to believe in it. Don’t fear commitment or getting hurt. Let’s face it, life is painful anyway and committing to the hope for something more is never a mistake. Don’t ever settle for someone who makes life harder, but don’t let fear keep you from being with someone who makes you happy.

Life is just too damn short.

Internet Mask

Here’s the thing…

You have no idea who I am. You see such a small part of me.

And I may try to tell you, but that’s not right either. Even if you hear me, even if you listen openly, all I can share is my own interpretation. And you, you will take my words and stretch them and push them and try to fit them into some form that works for you. Then you will say that I am perfect or that I am garbage, but it won’t be me. It will be your projection.

And we run this risk even in person, but over a long distance, the difference is extreme. I know this, I know this, yet I still try to form bonds. I cannot resist the urge, as I see so much in you and want to know more. I want to be there, I want to see you, know you, admire you, cherish you.

But you have no idea.

You don’t know that even just the part I see makes you so important to me.

And it hurts. And it’s exhausting. And though logic says others may feel the same about me, experience says that they prefer their projections. Reality is too real. It’s too intense, too meaningful. If they get too close, they have to care, and caring takes effort that they just are not willing to give.

It’s okay. I get it.

So they keep saying “I’m here, I care!” and I keep smiling and nodding and thanking them for their falsehood. They feel good for their offer and are happy to not have to follow through. I feel…

Alone.

Always alone.

But it’s okay! It’s okay, I’m fine! I’ll be back to myself in no time! Really, everything is good! Because if it’s not, then they feel bad, and we can’t have that! I smile and laugh and joke and they don’t see through it, because they don’t want to. We part and all is well.

For them.

But eventually, the mask starts to crack. I panic, and my fear is performed as resentment for having to wear it at all. This is not understood – of course it’s not, how could it be? – and what they see is unwarranted aggression. I cannot blame them. I don’t want to hurt them. I love them.

So I hide. I hide until I can put my”self” back together. I hide until I can fix the false face I will forever hide behind. I hide and my soul cries out for someone to notice, for someone to genuinely care, for someone to offer more than empty words. I turn up the music to drown out the aggressive silence. I lay in darkness and listen to lyrics of what I will never have, and am happy to know that others get to experience that which I long for.

Through this vicarious love, I will heal.

And I will be back to love you. I will wear my mask enthusiastically for you all. I will offer genuine affection, I will show the part of my heart that is full and bright and truly present for you. The honest positivity will shine, hiding the pain from view, and all will be well.

For a while.

But the mask doesn’t last as long as it used to. Sometimes I wonder how long it will be until I have to disappear for good.

But it’s okay! It’s okay, I’m fine! I’ll be back to myself in no time! Really, everything is good!

It has to be.

Numb?

Ever since I was young, I had a switch that I could flip in case of emergency. This switch took emotion out of the situation. No matter how much worse things became, I didn’t feel it. I was detached, cold, numb. This allowed me to do whatever was needed, in order to survive. Those who knew me well, could tell I was not myself. I faked it well for those who did not.

At 16, this detached version of me received a name: Roxy Jones. Roxy was seen as mysterious, intriguing. She was daring, as she felt no fear. She also felt nothing for those who grew infatuated, so it was common to see a trail of heartbreak behind her.

While this emotionless state was definitely useful, it also had its consequences. Without heart involved, it was easy to dismiss others. This could include ignoring them for any length of time, bluntly expressing indifference, and/or cutting ties with no explanation. Any action that best suited the current needs was quickly taken, without regard for others or even my own future emotions.

She smiled, but there was no warmth. She fought with unmatched strength and determination. She had a goal and would attain it, no matter the cost.

It could also become extremely difficult to come back from. Though it was known what emotion should be felt at any given moment, it was not quite felt. Using music and other passions, there would be constant attempts to summon true emotion. Usually these methods would at least cause a wanting for emotion. Eventually, something would get through to me and I would slowly come back to Life.

She saw the world as it was; a list of necessities and rules for gaining them. In memories, feelings were seen only as insignificant details. She knew, however, that I was still within her; watching, readying myself for my return. It was her duty to protect me, but she knew I would never lie dormant for long. Even when she resisted, attempted to suppress me, a loved one would reach me and I would pull myself out.

The most recent time this switch was flipped, it was more desperately needed than ever, more control was given over, and it lasted longer. Without the support of another, I alone had to bring myself back to Life. The struggle was lengthy and felt impossible, but I refused to be defeated.

She reminded me that I was alone. She reminded me that the world was painful. She made me wonder if I could make it on my own. I met each of her negative reminders with one of beauty. The joy was enough motivation. The passion for Life was still within me.

A few days ago, the world began to bury me once again. This time, I decided, I would be prepared. I asked my dearest friend to contact me after some time, to help inspire my return. I informed others that I would be absent for a while, to limit contact and so prevent negative social consequences. Then, I stepped back, relinquished control.

Only… This feels different. I have distanced myself, but do not feel truly disconnected. I cannot detach. I still possess control. Emotions, though quieter, are still felt. Others’ are still considered.

She’s gone. She’s really gone. It’s all on me now.

From now on, I’ll have to fight for myself.

Silence

I’ve not had much to say as of late. I have mostly been searching through the silence. I had surrounded myself with noise for so long, so I’d not have to see what lies in front of me.

I am reducing the clutter, so I can see what is important. It is not easy… I have held on to these for so long, it is difficult to accept that none of this amounted to anything. I know, though, that it is all weighing me down. How much more will I give to something that is never to be?

It is time.

It is time to make room for something real.

It is time to embrace the silence, so I can welcome something meaningful.

And I wish for help, someone to hold me accountable. I wish for caring sternness, so I will not falter. I know that I cannot have this, not yet. I must find all within before I can find it without. This knowledge is accompanied by fear, guilt, and overwhelming self doubt. Even so, I will fight on.

I may fail. I will fail. That will not stop me. As long as I can find the silence, I still have hope.

One day, I will not be alone in the silence. On that day, I will finally win.

I’m Still Here

A strange thought occurred to me tonight: I’ll probably live to see my boys become men.

What a crazy idea. Life keeps moving, I keep waking up, and every day my boys are a day older.

I have already lived 20 years longer than I ever thought I would.

My story is not a simple one. The main plot moves slowly, yet every page brings new conflict. There are many twists and turns. Some chapters exist only for character growth. Sometimes it gets confusing. Sometimes I have to stop, close my eyes, and try to forget it exists for a little while.

But it does exist. 20 years ago, it was expected to stop, but it is still going.

I am still here.

I get so lost in the drama that I forget… This is all just bonus.

I

AM

ALIVE

And I am so glad that I’ll be here to see what life has in store for me next.

My Birthday is in 2 Days

and I don’t want it. Because what’s the point?

What makes me so fucking upset is that I was going to help people. I was going to be great. Lives would have been changed for the better. I was on this path, I was doing well, and then

fuck me.

Because never in my life have I gotten a break. And all I want is to do good, but Life just fucking kicks me. And yeah, I get up, but I never make it far. I never get to be someone. I never get to help people. I never get to inspire. I’m just in the background, struggling to give people a reason to care.

Fibromyalgia. Narcolepsy. Restrictive Lung Disease. Anemia. Vertigo. Kidney issues. I start feeling stronger and plan to do something, anything, and then they hit hard and I can do nothing.

I can’t even save my cat, the one who has been there for me for years, helping me with my illnesses… Now he’s ill, needs surgery, and I’m failing him, because I am not enough.

I would have been great. Now I am nothing.

Happy birthday to me.

Dear Life,

We need to talk. The way things are… it’s just not working out.

I try to take a break to clear my head and you come back with more intensity than ever, which makes me distant again, which makes you intense, and on and on…

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m not saying I want to give up. Despite what I may say in the heat of the moment, I truly love you. I do. I wouldn’t trade you in for all the money and success in the world.

But this is getting way too hard. Something needs to change.

I’m not trying to throw blame. We’re in this together. All I can say is what I need from you, and what I can offer in return.

So here it is.

I need you to lighten my load a bit. I feel overwhelmed as things are, and it’s difficult to want to hold everything together when I can’t take it anywhere. I need to be able to move forward, and I just don’t think I can when everything is so heavy.

In return, I promise to be more present, the way I used to be. I’ll appreciate you more, and the journey we’re on together, even when it’s a bit rocky. I’ll stop looking behind me with a sore heart, and only look back with clear eyes and mind, learning from our traveled path in order to aid in the road ahead.

I will smile more and sing again.

Can we do this? Can we agree to stop making things harder on each other and make our walk a great deal lighter?

I want to continue this journey with you for as long as possible. Please help me make this happen.

With Love,

Ducky.

Connections

I’m at a point in my life where words fail me. I cannot talk to people about normal things. Talking about what I go through is difficult, especially when I know that others don’t know how to respond. So, sometimes I just listen. I listen to them have normal conversations, build normal relationships, and I wish I could be part of it.

I’ve always been an outsider, so I’m used to it. But when they’re my friends and I can’t be myself with them, because I’m too broken, it hurts.

And I want to confide in those who offer to listen, but I’m afraid that it will change the way I see them. If they take it too lightly, make a joke of it, or bombard me with advice, I’m going to pull away from them. And when my friends are all that make me feel sane, I can’t bear the thought of losing them.

The one person I should confide in, can’t handle the emotion in it right now. He’s going through the same intensity. He needs someone and I’m here, waiting, ready to give so much love and support, but he keeps it in. And I think that’s why no one else is leaning on me for once, because this is when I’m supposed to focus on him. I’m supposed to help him, and it will help bring me back. I just need him to let me.

I need to work on making myself approachable. Because of the anger and pain that occupies my every moment, I don’t seem very open. All I can do is let him know I’m here, encourage him, and hopefully he’ll let me in. Hopefully he’ll let me help.

Our connections can save us, if we let them.

Remembering Life

There is so much to say…

The beauty of words is in their power. Words that flow directly from the heart are felt on the skin. Painful elegance emulating a sudden breeze.

I remember the days…

I felt alone. I felt helpless and unloved and broken and worthless. I felt afraid of my strength and weak in my courage. I sang at the top of my lungs, but only in my mind. Lyrics poured from my eyes as I’d hide.

I felt the cold creep in. Necessary robotics to occupy time. Loss of self, to survive. Spirit exorcised, to keep silence intact. Needs squelched, for they were not to be met. Ice hidden inside an insulated smile.

I felt the passion. A soul soaring in galaxies never to be discovered. Gliding, frolicking in existence. A breath adored with wonder, admiration, and inspiration. Every nerve smoothly swaying, alert and alive.

I think I forget, sometimes. I hold out my mirror and ask others to see me through it. I draw a masterpiece of love, yet forget to include its eternity. I display the heart, without appreciating its history.

And so I stumble, forgetting the burdens that balance me. I cower, forgetting that which once frightened me. I look away, without seeing anything. Then, I try to say, “this is me.”

But I am not today. I am not yesterday, or tomorrow, or the day that I die. I am not this curve of the lips, or the wetness, or the pressure in the chest. I am not the shake of the head, or the sigh, or the slow applause.

I am I.

I am a legend that can never be told. I am a movie that will never be seen. I am pages of so many stories, in so many books, in so many minds. I am a love that will be felt, and lost, and felt again. I remember, today, that while I am and will always be Death,

I am also Life.

And now, it’s time to embrace it.