I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

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.

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.

Feeling It

The majority of people who live with depression feel it amplified during the cold winter months. Abnormal as always, I feel it significantly less. While the depression fades, other feelings come to play. This is when I feel myself again. This is when I remember to love who I am and what my life has become.

This is when I remember why the past is past.

All things in my life, stripped to the barest core, are love. For this reason, it is a subject that comes up often. This post is no exception. I hope that I will read it in my broken, self-deceiving moments, and that it will help me remember truth.

What’s meant to be will be, but there is a reason some things never work out.

I am emotion. I am made up of feelings; my own and those of others. I may panic, I may get lost, I may drown in silence, but it’s all because I feel so intensely. It’s a wonderful thing, in the truest sense of the word. It is beautiful. It is misunderstood, misinterpreted, taken for granted, and outright rejected. It is me.

I love who I am. I love my humor, even when no one gets it (sometimes especially because no one gets it). I love that I get excited about little things and shrug off big things. I love my awkwardness, my quirkiness, my antisocial behavior, and my longing to help everyone. I love that life is extremely hard on me. I love that sometimes I stumble and fall and feel like nothing.

I love my love for others, even when it blinds me. The truth is that I love people so deeply that I forget to distinguish it from Love. This causes me to tell myself that I want, need someone, when I truly do not. This sounds like a terrible thing, but it’s a vital piece of my self, even if I don’t always like to admit it.

If you are in my life, I love you. I want to be close to you. I want the ultimate best for you, and I hope that I am some small part of that. Though I may be in denial about this in the future, I am not in Love with anyone. I was once, only once, and sometimes I tell myself I still am. This is because he is still an incredible person, whom I very much wish to keep as a major part of my life. It is also because I yearn so badly to feel that feeling again. I ache to know that it is still possible for me to Love someone. It makes me a little sad to know that I am not still in Love with him… it would have made an amazing life story.

But so does this. So I have to live honestly.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel it again one day.

I Don’t Want the World to See Me…

but I want someone to.

I’m realizing that I don’t know how to be a friend. Maybe it’s because I’m too depressed. Maybe it’s my expectation that they will disappear anyway (they always do). Maybe it’s because I know I care more than they, so it hurts too much. Maybe it’s because I expect too much from people; see their potential and want them to live up to it. Maybe it’s none of these. Maybe it’s all of these and something else.

I don’t know.

I don’t want to be this way. I know it keeps me alone. I’m so tired of feeling alone.

…

So I apologized to a few friends. They told me not to. Friendship hint: If someone apologizes to you, don’t tell them to stop. Tell them “I don’t see it that way,” or “it’s not a problem,” or “I feel like that too, sometimes,” but don’t tell them that they don’t have to apologize. They do. Something inside is telling them that they need to say it, so let them say it, to quiet that urge. It doesn’t hurt anyone and it not only helps them, but may help you to understand them better. It forms a deeper connection between you.

…

I’ve always focused more on my relationship, and when single, on enjoying being alone.

This wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I could find someone whom I connect with enough to allow them to see me.

But I don’t. Ever.

Everyone gets pieces. They love these pieces. But if I can’t wholly be myself, what am I doing? So I leave.

And it’s all my fault, because I cannot love anyone enough.

I care. I love them as people. I am attracted to them. But I don’t Love them. I don’t know how.

All of this would be fine if I didn’t miss it so much, being with someone. The companionship. The kisses. The arguments. Greeting them at the door. Making little surprises. All of it. I could be so good for someone, if I could just bring myself to Love them. Or settle for loving them.

So I think about that one and wonder if I did. I know it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten. My heart still flutters at his smile, his voice, the memories. I gave him all that I could. I couldn’t resist him, maybe I still can’t. Knowing the way he made me feel is why I cannot settle for less. But…

No, he did not see all of me. Close, but I still held back. Was it just because I was young and scared? I don’t know. I don’t think I’m in place to know right now.

So I will go. I will see what I feel. See if i’m over him. If I can be myself and still want him, I’ll know it was real Love. If I hold back, I’ll know it never was. If it was, then I have to believe it is possible with someone again. If not… maybe I’m just broken.

………

So much for all that hope.

It comes and goes. This is normal. Sometimes life really knocks you down, though, and you get so tired of fighting it.

Tired. That’s my life, now. Narcolepsy, they call it. I call it the reason I got an F and 3 Cs this semester. I call it the reason I can’t enjoy a tv show, a book, or a walk. I call it having to have at least 10 loud alarms set every day to insure that I am awake to do the important things, like picking my son up from school. I call it pausing in the middle of a sentence, because I can’t remember the term for something and then completely forgetting what I just said. I call it having my 6 and 12 year old check on me throughout the day, because if I do fall asleep, it is extremely difficult to wake up and may include sleep paralysis and/or hallucinations.

Life, right now, is difficult. I feel alone, and hopeless, and hurt. I miss people, but don’t want to reach out, because I want them to be happy. So I’ll just keep pushing through. Just me and my boys; us against the world. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a way back to being someone worth missing.

 

 

Couldn’t Take It

This morning, I was supposed to focus on the ~14 weeks worth of homework that I have to get done in the next 12 days. Instead, I found myself sitting, staring. It’s been the routine lately: sit, stare, sleep, repeat.

I couldn’t take it anymore! I burst out of this cold, desolate chest, stood in front of the lifeless body, and screamed, “LOOK AT ME! FEEL ME!”

It looked right through me.

“NO! THIS IS NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE!” I had to do something.

I remembered the flutter felt last night and my answer was in front of me. Music. Music is the way.

So I started to sing, but it was not enough to remove the glaze from the gaze. I put a song on repeat and felt a slight ache from a weak beat.

It did not fade. It was working.

New songs, new lyrics to break through the chill.

I watched as ice melted to tears and the beat became stronger, pounding from the core. Never have I appreciated pain more.

I feel the urge to hide again, but I’ll fight it. I need to feel this. I need to keep living.

 

 

Autopilot

Today I got some help.

Help is not an easy thing to accept, no matter the form. I want to do it all on my own. I don’t want to feel that I am lacking, in need.

“There’s always gonna be a part of me that’s sloppy and dirty, but I like that, with all the other parts of myself.”

– Silver Linings Playbook

I love that piece of myself. I know others don’t get it. I know many see me as a charity case. I accepted help today because I knew that it wasn’t charity. It was known that I could do it myself, but also that I could use a helping hand. I am grateful. I hope this is also known. It is hard to express when you feel… robotic.

And that’s where I’m currently at. I feel as if I am on autopilot, doing what I must, without feeling, and sometimes without memory of doing it. I notice that my lack of emotion leaves a gap, so I try to fill it with words I would say if I was more myself. I know that no one looks long enough to notice a difference. Sometimes I wish they would, so maybe someone could pull me out of this. I know they won’t. If I don’t blow up, freak out, scream for attention, then I am put to the side. This is how it always was. This is how it always will be.

I could try to reach out, but I have nothing to offer anymore. I have no reason to ask for anyone to care, to deem me as important. I have no argument to persuade them. All I can do is keep doing what I’m doing, hope that one day I’ll be a real person again, and maybe find someone who will stand beside me in the days to come.

It’s not something I can count on, but at least the actors make it seem possible.

Nothing

I got lost today.

It was accidentally on purpose, the way these things can sometimes be. I wanted to take roads I’d never traveled. I wanted to see something. I wanted to feel something.

I walked along the empty streets, the chill in the air enough to keep everyone inside. This was how I preferred it. A school band’s rehearsal was my soundtrack as I narrated everything in my head. Usually, this all would bring me some sort of peace; this walk would be one of joy, of inspiration, of enlightenment.

I realized that I did not know where I was, or how to get to my destination. Usually, this would fill me with wonder, with delight.

I needed food, saw Taco Bell, and thought about the Crunchwrap I had been saying I was craving for the past year. I got it. I ate it. Usually, this would give me satisfaction, fulfillment.

I got the directions to my destination and walked on, feeling only emptiness.

None of this feels real. And I don’t know what to do about it.

 

Love and Hate

Those who don’t know me, don’t see me. Those who know me, see me as “different.” Sometimes this is seen in a positive way, sometimes negative, but it’s always there.

I love that I have turned my bedroom into the family hang-out spot. This is where we play video games, watch movies, read together, or just be.

I love dressing up or wearing silly masks/hats/glasses/fake mustaches to do everyday things, like walking home from school or grocery shopping.

I love being honest with my kids about how I’m feeling, even when it’s not pretty.

I love being poor, and the appreciation and creativity that come with it.

I love going far out of my way to help someone, even when it may not be the smart thing to do.

I love risking everything to following my heart, even when it’s not logical, when no one else understands.

And I hate the world for trying to beat all this this out of me.