Category: Personal

“You look…”

“Like shit?”

“I didn’t say it.”

It’s okay, I know I look awful. People have been telling me that for weeks. My eyes are a little sunken and I haven’t had the emotional strength to flex the muscles in my face to give me that pleasant demeanour that people are familiar with. He takes the time to listen to me, asking questions here and there to better understand the situation. He’s sympathizing with me. He understands that sound judgements go out the window when heavy emotions are at play. I was sitting in front of a chicken burger that I had just bought but had no appetite for. “You need to focus on yourself”, he tells me. I assured him that I have and I took a trip to Denver to focus on my feelings. “No, not like that.” He points out what I’ve told him: I’ve been writing all these letters to you but made he me consider that maybe I need to write a letter to myself. I froze. It hadn’t crossed my mind before. It was a good idea. I’m constantly writing and addressing you because it makes me feel like you’re still there, listening. I’m doing it now, even. I tell myself it’s therapeutic but now I’m starting to suspect that I’m in delusions. I need to wake up and really focus on myself. I’m going to try doing it within the next few days. Just need to slip up one more time tonight.

“You can’t take on getting consumed all at once; you’ll never get anywhere”. He told me not to think about the website right now. I was really conscious about him putting his blue clipboard away; he didn’t even start writing on it. He tells me that I have more important things to focus on. One step at a time. He’s right. Focus on myself. Figure out my feelings. Establish and make clear my own requirements. Set a timeline. And let go if I can’t reach them.  He gave me a system. And I work very well with instructions.

Remember when we were in Madrid and how we were mesmerized by everything?

Everywhere we went, we had such different perspective on things. We’d point out those things to each other that we wouldn’t otherwise pay attention to. I was always very curious and you were always so determined to solve the questions I had. We learned so much about the world that way. It was a wonderful dynamic. Remember when we figured out what those fast moving things were on the beach? Of course, it was always about animals for me. There were so many times where I’d catch myself to be distracted by simple rock doves or squirrels. But it never bothered you and in fact, you seemed to encourage it. I mean, you took me to feed pigeons in Placa de Catalunya. You took me to feed birds and squirrels in Lynde Shores. You didn’t hesitate to buy feed for me to give to goats and alpacas at the Winter Fair. Those made me so happy. It meant so much to me whenever you took me to see animals and how patient you were when I watched them or maybe when I did some questionable things. Remember how we tricked those chickadees? Or put when I put frog on the baking tray? You know, it made me really laugh when you tried to catch that pigeon in Chiang Mai. I know you wouldn’t normally do that. I often wonder if I was rubbing off on you or if you were simply trying to make me laugh.

I can’t deny that I miss you. I just keep reminding myself that we’re just going to keep hurting each other.

I vomited this morning. My stomach can’t stop churning and my mind can’t stop thinking about everything between us. I’ve only ever cried like that with you.

I’m trying to save us. That’s all I can keep hearing but it gives me some sense of ease. I’m happy we talked. We have so much love for each other; it’s hard to ignore it. You still love me. I could hear it in the softness of your tone and the intention of your call alone was enough for me to know. But there’s also so much pain in our voices. I should be regretting this, hoping for you to forget me but I can’t help but feel relief. I can’t help it. It’s selfish, I’m sorry. Maybe it’s because as hard as this is I know that we’re feeling the exact same way. We’re struggling together. We’re fighting for our lives and for each other to finally be happy. To move on.

I thought I had been handling my emotions a little better this week. I’ve been drinking every night. Not too much though. It helps. I’ve been putting everything out of my mind. But as soon as I see any sense of compassion from you, I crumble and I get pulled under. Like being caught in the undertow, I keep getting dragged back and I can’t move on. Do you truly want me to move on? (I wonder.) Hate me. Hurt me. Give me mercy and just blow my brains out.

The world reminds me of you. Everywhere I go. Everything I see. I keep writing you letters that I may never send. I keep taking photos of things I may never share. It’s my way of coping, perhaps. There are so many things I wish I could show and say to you but I’m still so terrified of the thought of interacting with you. I don’t want it to be hard on you too.

How did we ever get like this? I wish it were different. I’m sorry for everything.

I finished 1984 today. Felt a sudden impulse to sit around Berzcy Park, the one with the weird dog fountain. I sat amongst cast-iron statues of dogs and a couple of cats, while reading about a man’s face being strapped to a rat-cage contraption.

He was right. The ending gets a lot more depressing than you can expect. It was difficult for me to finish Part III. There were a lot of themes that really put into focus the emotions I was personally struggling with: acceptance of the inevitable… anxiety over an uncertain future and, above all, ambiguous feelings haunted by memories of a former time. Reaching the last page, I couldn’t help but feel a larger sense of cessation.

I guess this is goodbye.

I’m fighting with everyone. My close relationships feel like they’re falling apart. I know it’s mostly my fault. My behaviour and mood is definitely taking a toll on the those who have to deal with them. I was scolded for not being able to handle pressure. I was yelled at for causing unnecessary worry by being rash and cold. And just last night, I was expressed disappointment by not knowing better. It hurts. I felt like I was at my lowest point but I’m still getting drag below. I know they care and trying their hardest to be patient with me. I’m trying to be patient too.

I’m sorry.

I had three hours of sleep. I don’t feel particularly tired but I know my body needs more rest. I’ve had severe lack of sleep these last couple of days and my skin is in horrible condition. My appetite is getting worse.

When is this all going to pass? When can we be happy again?

I’m on a plane, on my way to Denver. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not running away from anything and instead, I’m spending the time to pay attention to myself. I think it’s working. You know, take care of myself, listen to my feelings. That sort of thing. This, right now, seems like a good idea… but it may turn up being really bad. I’m prepared to take on the worst. I’ve been warned before that I might feel extremely alone and that I might not have the emotional support that I need. Another person told me that running away was dumb. I’ve had these things in mind. I thought about it extremely carefully and now the decision cannot be undone. I feel broken. I feel lost. And I think I’m in search of something but I don’t know what.

Will my heart stop if I hold my breath?

These last few days have been especially hard on me. My stomach has been churning and I have little to no appetite. I keep coughing because it feels like something’s in my throat. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to be kind to myself. I’ve been staying in. I ripped the old posters off my walls. They didn’t mean anything to me. So I’ve slowly been putting up all the things that do have meaning. I find myself just sitting around, looking at it this wall of mine. It made me feel better. Yesterday, my work on it had to come to a pause because there was a shelf I had to pick up and put up before I could position whatever posters I had left. I didn’t have mood or energy to do anything else. I just spent the rest of the time in bed.

//

Can’t look at 1984 the same anymore but I brought with me.