You’re the Reason

I love my life, when I get to live it. I love good food, trees, and all the different colors that the sky takes. I love spider webs and ants and flowers that grow in the cracks of cement. I love the sound of hearty laughter, telling people I love them, and seeing strangers smile. I love twirling in the rain and making wishes on dandelions and listening to a song for the first time.

But life is also hard. It can be excruciating, even in the happy moments. It’s overwhelming and exhausting trying to exist in a society that cares more about money and social status than about people themselves. It’s a drama that often shows as a tragedy, and I sometimes struggle to make it a heartwarming comedy. I love it, but it takes everything inside me to be able to love it.

I have been battling depression for my entire life. Sometimes it comes close to winning.

I don’t like admitting it. I HATE admitting it. I don’t want people to know. I don’t want people to worry, or pretend to. I don’t want people to see this, because what good will it do for them? How will it help others to know that sometimes I just don’t want to live?

Most of the time, I’m okay. It’s hard and I want to run away or hide or just sleep, but I also enjoy things. Most of the time it is that or better. But then there are the other times-

The times when everything I do seems to make things worse.
The times when I feel like a failure, unworthy of what I’ve been given.
The times when I feel like I contribute nothing positive to this world.
The times when I believe no one but my children would truly be affected if I disappeared.

They are rare, only in my most painful moments. When I was younger, I would write about how I’d end it. I’d play it out in my head. I’d hold the pill bottles or the knife in my hand and stare at them. But I’d only take a few, I’d only slice a little, I’d do just a tiny bit of damage, then go back to my hell. I fought for my life when others threatened it and I never truly attempted to take it myself. I don’t even tell myself I will anymore (even if I sometimes wish I could). I fought it all and I will continue to fight. I’m still here.

And you are the reason.

You who love me, whoever you may be.
You who still lean on me.
You who are gone, whose shared memories only live on within me.
You, whom I have not yet met, but who will become one of these people.

I cannot bear to hurt you.

So any time you see me, any time you are reminded of my existence, I hope you’ll smile to yourself a little. I hope you’ll understand how important you are. You, just by being in this world, are helping to save a life. Thank you. Thank you for being my reason.

2023

I’ve only just gotten used to the fact that it’s 2023 and now it’s almost gone. If it weren’t for this one major change in my life, I might not believe that 2023 ever existed at all.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, so let’s just see what comes out, shall we?

When I made this move, this choice for myself earlier this year, I was excited to announce that the “selfish” act did not cause the world to end. And it didn’t. Really, I know that this situation is temporary. But… man, is this dragging on. It’s torture. It’s Hell. I have something beautiful just out of reach. My fingertips graze it, but I can’t quite get a hold. Yes, I’m closer, yes, that’s a victory in itself, but fuck, can’t I just have it? Can’t I just have something, anything to hold onto? Can’t I have one, any one thing, come easy, so I can breathe without wondering if each breath is my last? Please?

Fuck.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to vent or show how I’m feeling. I wanted to write a message of hope for the new year, whether I truly felt it or not. I wanted to take that mask to the grave. But I can’t anymore. I’m tired and I’m injured and the mask is broken beyond repair. I can’t fake it for you anymore. I’m sorry.

I smile and laugh a little every day. 2023 gave me that. I’m expressing myself more than I have in a long while. I’ve gotten closer to some friends and have grown distant from most others. That sounds sad, but it’s likely for the best. I am mentally, emotionally, and physically stronger, though it doesn’t seem to be that way. I love myself and care for myself more, though still not as much as I should. Right now, the days feel no different from past years, but deep down I know that a great deal of progress has been made.

But 2023, I won’t miss you.

This year was hard in ways it shouldn’t have been. It was excruciating and frightening and heartbreaking. I feel as if my soul has been stretched and pulled, like taffy. And all I can do is say, “I’ll be okay,” because I can’t even lie and pretend I’m okay now. But maybe I am, because I’m still alive and what the hell does “I’m okay” mean, anyway?

Geez, I seem to have a lot to say.

And I don’t know where to go from here. Do I learn my lesson and start 2024 off guarded, isolated, alone? Do I choose hope, knowing I’ll continue to be crushed over and over, until I’m left unrecognizable? Do I pick up an old mask and return to a life of lies, just to be with others again? No matter the choice, I will be lonely. No matter the decision, I will be in pain. It’s just about what I’m willing to sacrifice: Soul, heart, or dignity?

And that’s the thing, really. I’ve finally realized that my purpose is to sacrifice. It’s no grander or greater plan than that. I exist to lose, so others can win. I create the balance.

And there’s beauty in that, right? I know that I’d have chosen it. It’s who I am. I get my joy from that of others. But goddamn, this shit sucks sometimes. How, HOW does Life keep finding things to take from me?

And I’m still blessed, because I have the love for and from the people around me and blah blah blah, positivity and shit. And I really mean it, but also fuck all that. I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s, but I want to be stupid enough to think I would. I want to be ignorant enough to feel that all this pain is for nothing. I want to want to curse the gods and anyone else in a place of power, and scream THIS ISN’T FAIR! FIX IT!

But I can’t, because I’m not that stupid. I know that my sacrifice can be used to help others. I know I’ve made a positive impact. I know that I wouldn’t be happy if everything came easy. I know that my few loved ones are so much more than worth all that I have had to endure. I know that happy phases will come again. I know that no one is going to fix this, because this is how it’s meant to be.

And though I know it will lead to disappointment, I will choose hope. I will choose to trust in promises and agreements and protocols. I will have faith in the intentions of others. I will no longer conceal my heart when it’s beautiful, when it’s longing, when it’s afraid. I will not hide behind sadness.

Because this soul is a soul worth knowing.

So BRING ON 2024!

Reflection

Last night, for the first time in years, I looked in the mirror and saw myself looking back.
Yeah, a little fatter, a little older, a little more exhausted, but the core of me is still here. That hasn’t changed.

And I’ve been thinking about the fact that I have been close to death more times than I can count. Each time left its own battle scar. I used to be so ashamed of these flaws, but now I wear my marks with pride.
I was there.
I fought through it.
And I’m still standing.

I’ve even been loved, by so many. Maybe it wasn’t always the way I wanted. Maybe I didn’t feel they could truly see me, but they saw something in me. Each of them knew that I was different. Each of them wanted that difference in their life. And maybe I couldn’t love them back, or maybe I didn’t have enough faith in them, or maybe I just didn’t have enough faith in myself, but some form of love was received. And I’m still loved, every single day.

And oh, how I’ve loved! Though.. often it wasn’t the way they wanted. It was misinterpreted, taken for granted, and manipulated. It was also cherished, obsessed over, and yearned for. Some didn’t know it existed, some didn’t know the depth, and some denied it completely. But still, I love so strongly, whether strangers, friends or foes.

I’ve been lonely, too. That’s the other side of love, you know. I release my heart into the wild and I’m left feeling like something’s missing. Some days have been worse than others, but I’ve learned to appreciate those the most. Those are the days when I put so much love into the world, silently, that my heart is a little sad to not see the results. That’s okay though, because I have too much to keep close to home, and I know that it’s out there, it matters, even if I will never know how. The loneliness has a beauty of its own, and I smile to feel it, even in this moment.

So, I’ll still try to lose the weight, the lines, the dark circles, but if I can’t, that’s alright. Because I’m still here, still true to myself. Yes, I’ll fall and consider staying down. I’ll lose my way, my faith, from time to time. I’ll wear noise cancelling headphones to avoid hearing the beat of my heart. I’ll do all of these things, as I have before, but they will never last. I’ll always come back to look myself in the eyes and tell myself that I’m still worth it. I’ll never stop. I’ve already lived and loved so much more than I ever thought I would, and I will continue to do so until my last breath is stolen from my body.

If you’re reading this, I hope you will do the same.

I love you.

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.

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.

Irate.

It’s after 2 am and I am ENRAGED.

As of this moment, I am a monster. Once every 3 years or so, it all becomes too much. Every overwhelming, over-powered emotion fights to the surface at the same time. Like when mixing all the colors of Crayola, the result is pure shit. And I’m drowning in it.

I’ve felt it coming for a while now. I kept denying it, hoping I could stop it. Still, it would reveal itself. Hurtful outbursts. Moral deviance. Avoidance. My torso bears the scars and open wounds where I tore through my flesh absentmindedly.

I want to scream.

I want to tear the world apart. I want to act with false apathy and take people down. I want to embrace the power. I want to give up self control. I want to set everything ablaze and stand mesmerized by the whipping of the flames. I want to do – without forethought, without empathy, logic, or fear. I want to run wild, untethered and uncaring. I want all to see this monster they have created in me.

But as I sat here, seething, a recent memory came to mind. His not-so-gentle voice soothed me. For hours I stayed lost in thought, then came out of it smiling.

But why him? Why the one who seems the farthest, one who hurts me without a clue? Why this man who I know one day will break me?
And how? How, when my best friend of 20 years could not do the same? How, when I’ve always had to run away?

And how long will this last?

And though those I know will want to ask questions, the identity will be kept safe; safe from them, and safe from him.

I don’t want this to be tainted.

I want this one to stay.

Feeling Low.

I keep starting posts and I never finish them. Well, I’m running on 1 hour of sleep and I’m drowning in emotion. This is when things get over-dramatic. This is when I say the things that later feel exaggerated. This is when I think that maybe I shouldn’t say anything, because it can represent me in a way that will not be accurate later.

But you know what? This is how I feel in this moment. However temporary, these feelings are just as valid. So here we go.

Summer is always a crazy time for me, but I’m doing better than previous years. I almost got into something I shouldn’t, but I recognized that as an old pattern and stopped it before it went too far. So there’s that.

But I’m feeling… misled. I don’t know how to see things clearly right now. I think I lost my touch. There is so much bullshit, everyone seems to be a liar, a fake, or even delusional. Nothing seems real, nothing seems reliable, nothing feels like it can be trusted.

And I know that a lot of this is due to my own internal struggle. I’m going through a major evolution and two different parts of me are clashing. I lifted the partition and they don’t know how to share the space.

There’s the supportive, empathetic side. I like to think that this is the side people see most. I love, and I love to love. I share the joys and pain of those around me. I try to be a force of good, someone who will build them up when the world tears them down. Their success is my success, because helping them feels like it’s my true purpose. This side keeps my heart open, vulnerable. I feel all of the emotions, and I feel them intensely.

Then, there’s the independent, protective side. – the side that keeps people at arm’s length, doesn’t trust, doesn’t accept help. I –

I’m going to interrupt myself here and stop trying to act like this is all so clean and clear. I’m in tears. I just imagined someone asking me what’s wrong. I imagined my honest answer.

I feel like all I’m doing is superficial, pointless. Like I’m not making any real difference. I feel like I could disappear right now and 95% of the people I talk to, wouldn’t notice for months. When anyone did notice, it would just be a fleeting thought, shrugged off. I feel like I don’t really matter.

Yeah, if anyone heard or read that, they’d tell me I matter to them. And I would, for a day or two. But then it would fade right back. Those same people are the ones who would shrug it off.

I wouldn’t be missed.

The thought is soul-crushing. It makes me want to hide back in the darkness, so I stop wasting everyone’s time. It makes me want to disappear.

And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe someone out there cares more than I think. But maybe they don’t. Maybe I really am as alone as I feel right now.

This will pass. I will feel better soon. I’ll be convinced that people care, whether that’s reality or just me trying to find a reason to hold on to them.

I look forward to that.

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.

Another Confession

First, some background on me:

I love new experiences, good and bad. They remind me that I’m alive. Life is short and I want to feel as much of it as possible.

I also love a challenge. I like to test my limits and see just how capable I am. I’ve never experienced anything I couldn’t handle, even if I didn’t believe I could at the time.

I have never broken a bone. I have never been shot. I have never been stabbed (except twice by myself, accidentally, and it wasn’t serious).

People have always thought I was crazy for wanting to experience these things. They couldn’t even put into words why it is so bad to want this, but were very sure it was. So I explained to them that I like new experiences, blahblahblah, and they kind of understood.

And that was all true… but I didn’t tell them everything.

The times when I thought about it most was when times were toughest.

Automatically, one would assume I had a death wish or was a masochist, but that had nothing to do with it. I never enjoyed pain. I never wanted the occurrence to kill me, or even permanently injure me.

But physical pain is easier to handle than mental pain. So when everything was falling down around me and I felt myself getting buried, I needed something to take my focus for a while, something to allow me to reset. It had to be serious, it had to be intense, or it would be ignored.

In retrospect, this is probably why I would jump into relationships. Wrong or right, they were always intense.

So a broken leg, a bullet in my arm, or chip of blade stuck in a bone would be a relief. Yes, it would suck, but it would release me from other stress. It would be something that I could see, touch, control. It would allow me to temporarily set down some of my burdens, give me a chance to make a plan and strengthen myself before I took them back on.

“A break to keep from breaking.”

Yeah, I was never talking about a vacation.

***

LOL: So now, stress can lead to serious Fibro flares. Pain is there 24/7, but during flares, I can’t do anything. Sometimes I can’t even hold my phone.

Guess this is a case of “Be careful what you wish for.” 😂

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