My Greatest Loss, Getting out of the blues, Make me laugh

Date:	2007-12-22 21:08
Subject:	Despair
Security:	Public
Mood:	morose

Date:	2007-09-04 10:09
Subject:	A Message
Security:	Public
Mood:	frustrated

Before you have a go.

I'll say it here. I'll say it out loud.

How could you do this to my head?

How could you do this to my sense of the concrete and the empirical on which I've placed my entire being since you opted out of the game?

How can you be enjoining those of us who will look into meaning and wish that it wasn't there?

Especially someone as desperate as me? You know it goes dangerous this way. You'll be beating it all out of me again soon enough.

I've been staring at those two words all day. Sure there was a phrase too, which I recognized, but I'm not going there, as that was more ephemeral and maybe it wasn't remembered quite as much. But those two words, you know they would make me explode. And I have.

My grasp on the empirical world remains firm. But you are the one thing I cannot explain to anyone - not even myself. As much as I try to keep my hold on the idea that this idea I've been bringing to the world online has made its way even into you and that I share such a notion... well, I don't know. Maybe there's nothing to it. But this mystery keeps me begging questions. And when there are more questions raised than answered, then the original idea is probably not correct.

So, I stare at the two words, but I am angry that they mean something to me more than anything else.

Date:	2007-08-20 10:59
Subject:	Sighting It
Security:	Public
Mood:	confused
Music:	"Buried Alive by Love"/HIM

And what do I do with this? Was I early in discovering it, or late? I could pass it off as an idea that has made its way into the world, and that my use of this phrase has not been nearly as unique as I'd like to think. However! No, I can't imagine that being aware of what that means to me that you would have just stumbled over it. I think it was deliberate. The fact that this was posted *there* is fitting, too. Albeit, I can't quite make peace with this right now, I know it's there. And I don't know how I will ever get this to be a part of my life that I can just plain live with. Of course, my passion for another probably keeps this whole thing in check. I am lucky for the solace I take in the knowledge that I don't have to rely on just one source for my only unsolved mystery in life. You're none too reliable when it comes to this Thing. However, the print is there, and you can't exactly take it back. Oh, I'm aware of what can be done to destroy what small grasp on this I have right now. After all, I've already got the method for refuting in my first paragraph, don't I? A list of these... hints to those looking for hints. I almost broke down and cried when I saw that. It was an anger at the phrase listed at the bottom of this thing I read. It was anger at the fact that I have to fight off feeling like it has any kind of meaning or that I may be reading it as something that it is not. I have my Other. But does this just indicate a meme has manifested in someone else? I don't know. Empirical, unrefuted evidence... I'll keep living my life, and you'll keep living yours, huh? It changes things to see it listed, but it can never change everything. And if I could hold out for something after my flesh has disintegrated, maybe I would not want more. I only regret that this life I've been given can't be enough and that I go seeking these clues and hints and hope that they apply to me. But I already know that the game has nearly killed me once, and I cannot go through this again.

Date:	2007-08-07 12:30
Subject:	a piece
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused

Small things, I suppose, yet they resound so forcefully in my world.

Did I get response? A request that was given to me? Or did I manage to predict what should come next, and wanted it so much that I have to make something more of it than is really there?

Of course, if it was the response, it was done in exactly the manner I've come to expect. Somewhat hidden, but obviously still him.

I've been just a little more intensely bound up in this Thing since the first notice went out to all of us.

Oh, for god's sake, I am still bound to this Thing right now.

I can't write when it's like this.

I need to make updates for prompts. And all I can do is sit here grinning, like a dupe.

The need... The want inside me is intense right now. I can't seem to make it stop. How to deal with this? How to cope?

Too much analyzing. I miss this when it's not here. I want to deny and

Date:	2007-07-31 20:13
Subject:	Prompt #6 - What Makes Me Lose My Temper
Security:	Public
Mood:	artistic
Music:	Broken Toy-Keane-Under the Iron Sea

You're not going to see me lose my temper. Not to your face. Instead, I'll bottle it up and I'll never let you see it. No one will see it.

But it is simply the last resort that my mind will touch when all else fails. I won't lash out. I'll just cry. It will be inappropriate. Everyone mistakes it for sadness or depression. It is anger. It is usually at myself. Though sometimes at my mother, who is not in my life very much, but just enough to bring my world crashing to a halt. After all, I'm not all I could have been, I guess.

Sure, I make my own money, I live in my own condo, I have my own car, and manage to take care of all my own bills. This was not enough, though. Where is my franchise? Where is my legacy? Where is the tangible evidence of the monetary and intellectual gifts they bestowed upon me? I don't actively seek out her attention. She actively avoids mine. It works for us both just fine. I find myself in tears at the end of conversations with her.

Those are the tears of anger I was explaining. It isn't just the shame and degradation. It's the rage that boils over from these insane conversations we have about my potential and the negation of all I have accomplished. I'm never going to be enough for her.

But she'll never see the breakdown. I'll never back down from her.

I stoically hold up under the pressure. That, at least, she cannot deny is an area in which I excel even beyond her wildest dreams for having trained me to be tough enough for this brutal world.

Date:	2007-07-30 22:58
Subject:	A Glimpse
Security:	Public
Mood:	melancholy

There it is again. It's shining brighter than anything on the face of the earth. The force of will that is required to step away from it is significant and ridiculous.

All love that I want to pretend I don't desire seeps into this little place inside me. That is the place of powerlessness and submission. The old clawing sensation underneath this empty facade that I wear. You're here. You're there. There's simply nowhere I can escape, nowhere I can hide from this our shared Thing. I cower as I acknowledge it is there, burning huge holes in my soul. I shrink from this overwhelming light of brilliance that threatens to consume me.

You're in there. You're scratching inside of me and willing me into life, while my death wish pulses even deeper below that deep chasm.

What I wear, the lines that begin to form, the pentagram that is still hung over my doorway, and all these material signs of my life all melt away. There's just this garden again. It's down by the ocean. It's the running stream that glints in the twilight. Our shoes are off beside us here. Your eyes are closed. I'm looking at you, though. Just taking in the softness of the curves. I dream you as a boy. I wonder if you love me as a girl. I dream you as the star that fades below the horizon. I dream you respond to this elation I feel just looking at your face in this dusky light. You respond and a tiny smile plays over your lips. Your eyes stay closed. Your breath is shallow. But your feet, crossed at the ankle are tapping slightly to a rhythm we've both managed to pick up on.

I bend and kiss the corner of that smile. Your lips respond as if you'd had your eyes open and none of it was a surprise.

And then it all washes out, into just the bright light and white. It becomes an overexposed print in black and white. Then there is nothing but me alone in this empty head of mine, once again.

Just me and this silence. Just me. No you here. No you anywhere I can see or hear.

The night around me ticks away. The moment in the garden is gone. My moment away from here has passed.

It is once again just me, here, in this bedroom, watching my chest rise and fall, uselessly.

Date:	2007-07-10 10:55
Subject:	Prompt #5 - My Greatest Fear
Security:	Public
Mood:	crazy

Date:	2007-07-10 10:24
Subject:	Prompt #4 - Song
Security:	Public
Mood:	crazy
Music:	It's No Good-Depeche Mode-Ultra

A song that describes me. Can one fill up a song with that many facets? And then there's the fact that my song changes from day to day. How about something like "Another Day" by Roy Harper. Regret that is unspoken. Always pleasant smiles to cover the reality of the situation. Never admitting what is really going on. How pointless this social posturing is.

Something obscure and remade. Something that only makes sense to me. Something that hides and smiles while the storm rages inside. Something one doesn't want to read into like "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. People think of only one line from the song, and miss the darker threats going on. There you go. How about that? A song people avoid reading into, with darker tones the Beavises and Buttheads ignore.

I'm not in a very pleasant mood, though, so it's no wonder I might pick out something like that.
__________________________________

[Private]

And inside, there is a screaming negation. I've just written around the song that describes me because I don't want to make any connections to him. I don't want anyone to start to make associations. But why should I hide everything. So into private this part goes. Only an admission to myself will do here.

I want to spell out in bold letters:

"This Game" by Anthony Martin. A song that has hope that is drowned out by melancholy despair. The only song so far. The poetry he wrote has even more references that make more sense to me than this song. But even this song... I was singing the words of that song a year before I ever heard it. What do you do with something like that? I'll tell you what you do. You do nothing. Don't tell anyone. Don't let them know. The snickers to your face only hint at the sort of things that are said when you're not there.

But what do you do when your words and melodies you had stuck in your head, put away "for later experimentation" when you bought a new electric piano show up on someone else's album? I never recorded these things. No one would believe me. Chalk it all up to confabulation, and put an end to it there?

Yes, I know very well what song represents me. But no one else will hear this from me, ever again.

I safely dodge radar screens. I come in here to get away from my brain. Then my brain finds me in here.

Oh, what are you? Just a part of me that can't leave my brain? Or is there a piece of me out there, wandering around, living a life that I will never live?

I'll know the gory details. I'll always have an answer to questions that I shouldn't know. But am I just a really fucking good guesser or is this Thing what gives me the knowledge that I often find in my brain?

I'm not saying it makes everything wonderful and perfect. I just feel safe, secure, and that I actually belong here.

But I woke up alone again. There was no one there.

I read too much in an email from a disposable account. I said that myself. And there it was. Twice. Amongst a dozen other quotes that all seemed to be needles into my soul, piercing me and exposing thoughts I have been having. However, the most important ones were about the need for there to be at least two people for a conversation. To have a conversation, it can't be just one person sending unanswerable mail.

How do I put these things to rest and write it off as coincidence? Aside of the fact that I've been nearly dying here, night after night, missing coincidences I've gotten used to. Coincidences that ended when I most needed them. The Other place seemed so distant and unreal. And yet, here it is...

I'd love to have an actual chat. Not just to be another one of those scary girls I've seen. I wonder if there are scary men out there, too. I've only noticed two on the messageboard where coincidences used to happen constantly.

I'd think something... and almost, yes, just almost, something would show up on that messageboard in answer to that very thing. Now, it isn't like no one else ever thought about those questions, I guess, but the timing and some of the wording made all the difference.

Yet, at the same moment, someone else, in another thread, would point out one of the scary members' posts. How am I supposed to deal with my brain when faced with that? I am not like that. I won't even entertain the notion that something is going on that has any kind of real meaning. I don't think I'm nearly that important. To think *you'd* notice me? No. I'm not like that, at all.

The lulls, when there are no coincidences and no answers, remind me of where I am in my daily routines. And it certainly isn't bearing the melodrama and burdens of the rich... the public figures people see all over the media.

How am I supposed to feel, here, after two months of my mind being quiet, and reviewing some of the things the scary girl said that I was thinking of myself just this winter? How am I supposed to feel when things start up again, just when I thought I had a lid sealing those crazy thoughts tights? B/Q, I'll call the one that is my constant mirror... Those two nicknames for the same person who was brave enough to post these thoughts that I have found myself having, and to see the response.

Certainly, if ever there was a warning, B/Q is my warning.

Though, among another earlier online group, I am B/Q to them. I scared a few, and earned a badge of shame. I know that feeling well.

I've been there, before. I have no desire to go back to that ridicule and the mindfucks they played on me.

So, here I am, facing not one, but two emails that should have been deleted, but they seemed to hold something for me. I opened them. Sure enough, they seemed catered to my desire for conversations I wish I could have with you.

I don't know what to do with this.

Date:	2007-06-26 23:14
Subject:	Prompt #3 - Love
Security:	Public
Mood:	calm
Music:	"Crash into Me"/Dave Matthews

warning: mention of sexual abuse

Date:	2007-06-21 15:25
Subject:	On Hearing a Promise
Security:	Public
Mood:	indescribable

Just one small particle of hope creeps into my soul, from elsewhere, today.  The pleasant sensation that someone is paying attention to me overrides the rest of the world I see around me.

Date:	2007-06-19 20:03
Subject:	prompt #2 - Family
Security:	Public
Mood:	discontent
Music:	"Open Your Eyes"/Snow Patrol

So how much about my family can I discuss? 

Obviously my dad is important to me.  He was always interested in my life.  He has always exhibited many of the strange habits that I also show.  That slight inability to relate to other people, to pick up on the social cues, and to always keep other people at an arm's length...  I suspect that is where he and my mother had such difficulties in pretending to be the classic, suburban family.  Certainly, my father was technically proficient at the law he interpreted.  His business was in defense and he was highly successful at this job.  My mother was highly skilled in running the office for a female surgeon.  Both were never lacking in financial rewards.  The emotion of the household was always tepid, at its warmest.

When my parents separated, I was disillusioned.  The business they ran with the family turned out to be a complete illusion.  Neither were very good at family, when you get to the heart.  It is only now that I've seen other happy couples that I understand that the family doesn't have to work like a mechanical object.

Sure, in my heart, I've longed for the romance of the artists and poets.  I hope for it, and desire this meaning behind all the mechanics of these feelings I have.  However, I always assumed family was something done for the children, and maintained in an orderly fashion on behalf of the kids.

I'm the only child of their union.  It is unlikely that the two of them had sex much further into their marriage than a couple years.  It is even less likely that either one wanted more than one child.  The passionless existence just was, to me.  I didn't think about it much until the day came, when I was 15, and we were visiting our condo on the island (that's Captiva, just so you know...) that they announced that at the end of our trip my mother would move back north, to Ohio, and I would stay in Miami with my father.  Then, I began to obsess over their marriage.  I blamed myself for the fifteen years of passionless existence they had to live.  I managed, in time, to see that they made the choice to pursue this life, and that I was not the cause nor the blame for any of their unhappiness in life.

However, it was family in the north to which my main maladies can be attributed.

How does one confess, after waiting fifteen years to speak it out loud, that one was abused quite thoughtlessly by a member of my own family?  Oh, and yes, I did actually confess it once, at the time it was happening.  I confessed it to the wrong person.  I didn't think much about who she was, by way of blood relation to my abuser.  She was his sister, though.  I didn't know, at 9 years of age, that this blood tie might prove more powerful than the budding camaraderie I shared with her.  She took my tentative hints at what was happening as a mortal sin against her family.  She made it her duty and mission to make sure I was ignored and invisible to the rest of the family.

My relief when my father contracted his partnership in Florida, away from my mom's family and the icy northern winters when I was 11 cannot be properly described.

My mother spoke little to me after the separation and divorce.  When I chose a college near her family, mostly because I knew the reputation of the school and area and agreed with it, and not anything to do with it being near her, she still chose to mostly ignore my existence.  She focused on the life she always wished she'd had.  Yeah, she came to all the important events.  My father did too.

However, once I was an adult, the both of them seemed to think it was time to push me out of the nest, so to speak.  I have little contact with either, now.  I don't feel like either would care to know about the depth of my unhappiness, at times.  Family remains something of a mystery to me.

Date:	2007-06-19 17:33
Subject:	From the Pit
Security:	Public
Mood:	angry

It is just the dust of ages that has settled into my soul today.

I'm bothered by this question more than just a little bit.  Can a person ever truly describe oneself to the world in a way that is accurate and believable?  I can only tell you the parts with which I'm intimately familiar.

Date:	2007-06-15 10:34
Subject:	With Head Bowed
Security:	Public
Mood:	melancholy

I don't know where to start this entry today. I want to write about the bursting quality of love and life. The world that I've been creating has been a quiet little dream while I wait for my real life to start. I wanted you to know that I felt something so strong this morning that I thought the Silence was over, and we were starting to mesh our minds again. Then I slept just a little more, and woke to a despair that I just don't understand.

All of the things I do in the day, none of that means anything to me. The lights, the structured environment, the formula for the success of his business... I'm just a cog in his machine here. I know this.

It is all I can do to throw myself into this routine and just forget all those sweet little promises I hear in my mind.

Then the day comes to an end, and I walk into my apartment. The desolation and the silence of the room is suffocating, at times. I sit in the rocker by the window. I stare out into the nights. I keep the room dark. I keep it silent. However, it hasn't been silent, all the time. Though it's been months since the quiet room suddenly seemed filled with the sound of strings and synths, I keep waiting for more of this imaginary music to fill my life with something worth my waking up each day. And the words that filled up my head with an intoxicating sense of belonging and feeling wanted in such a desperate sense of urgency... I can't remember everything...

Oh, it's the longing and the hope that keeps me here. I wake. I breathe. I tug on the invisible strings.

Down the invisible wire, your voice reaches toward this light that shines so bright inside my heart. The raging fire of a million nuclear explosions from helium and hydrogen collapsing and expanding. Just as unstable as my mind.

But the sounds, the words, the hope that my life would finally be something worth all the effort it took to survive these 25 years. The niche into which I can fall, and feel comfortable, for once. My home... Do I have one waiting for me?

Or is this collapsing sensation inside of me too destructive and unstable to bring me to that place where I belong?

As I sit, rocking and somewhat calling to that voice on the other end of this imaginary wire, I just don't know that there is anything left to say or to feel. Except the tears that come from the knowledge that the isolation is the only certainty.

Date:	2007-06-13 07:56
Subject:	Inducing Renewal
Security:	Public
Mood:	melancholy

Oh, please, when I am down there, in that place of hopeless pain, I'm convinced that you are annoyed by the Dream. When I yell about how it doesn't seem to matter, it isn't that I don't care. To me, it remains the most important thing I've ever experienced. The silence seems too vast. Your heart seems too far away. My life seems like less than a speck of dust floating around the edge of the gravity of a black hole. I am convinced that you just wouldn't notice if I never made it out of sleep.

When the voice reaches me, and carries with it all the things I desperately need to hear, it seems as though everything in my life has a point. It is when this companionship I believe in so irrationally has fallen to a bare thread of memory that I think you couldn't possibly care about me. This life of mine doesn't equal the things you've managed to accomplish. I don't come anywhere near that importance. I'm trapped in a cycle where just scraping through, and waking to one more day is the most I can accomplish in my life.

I am still here, though, begging for this Thing to renew and return.

I never stop hoping for what we've experienced to lead us into something incredible. It's just hard to imagine you feel the same about someone who feels so small.

As I write this here, desperately, I know that I am trying to force it to come back. I am willing it to life again. I'm trying to breech the gap and close the wounds.

I'm screaming, "Come back!" At least here, on the inside, in silence.

But here it is, another day of waiting in the Silence.

It's been seven months since Jason and I broke up. The reasons are numerous. I guess it comes down to the fact that I wasn't the kind of person he thought I was or that I could be molded into. He certainly wasn't the sort of person I thought he was when we met a bit over a year and a half ago. It's strange to think about how deceiving we are when we first meet a new person and want very much to make the "right" impression upon the love interest. Perhaps we should really behave exactly as we are from the first moment, but we never do.

Well, no one I've ever known has ever been their undiluted self with me when we first met. I certainly wouldn't be comfortable offering up my true self on the first date, though. I always hope I can maintain a semblance of that person I introduce to my potential suitors. However, my personality is static. No matter that I hide the natural dark undertones of my Self, these pieces end up surfacing in due course of the relationship.

My seriousness, the moments of unhappiness and the way I don't understand the language of most of these curious creatures that surround me always seems to creep into view far too soon. Just as the fantastic morphine sensation of the budding relationship starts to seep into my brain, the fleeting glimpse of happiness is replaced by the look of disappointments. I crawl deeper inside. My withdrawing nature is not met with much patience. The longest I held on to a relationship was with Jason. He seemed to look past the seriousness and lack of mirth over some of the more annoying aspects of common humor. As with all others, the patience he exhibited in the first few months was gone after nine months.

We even shared my bed every night after the first few weeks of our union. He would spend his evenings with me, and sleep next to me. We played house for almost ten months. He even contributed food to my refrigerator and cabinets. Sometimes he'd cover a bill I'd neglected. It was a small roleplaying gig. We were practicing the life that ordinary people live.

In the final three months of our relationship, it was obvious that his patience with my serious nature was a ruse. He began to point out to me the negativity and the disturbing quality of my inability to comprehend most of the common things people find fascinating and entertaining. He began to bicker with me about trite subjects. He started to try to control my mind, my heart, and my soul. In a night of violent argument over a mundane subject that I've already forgotten, he stormed out of my life for good. He called one more time to ask for something he'd left in my house, and that was the last I heard from him.

I've come back to life after a period of dark obsession with death. I've come back to the internet. I'm renewing the process of trying to believe in love. Or rather, that I will ever be in love. I see that love must exist in its three known forms, in the brain. I've read the articles and watched programs about how the brain responds in relationships at various times, for most people. I hope that one day, that the other two versions of love, the obsessive infatuation and the long-term nesting sensation will one day grace my life, instead of just the lust phase. I remain skeptical that this shall ever happen.