Skip to main content
“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

--T.S. Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

Featured

The Awesome Power of Procrastination

*Trigger Warning: self-harm The power of procrastination is so awesome that even though I have been without Internet access for several hours and I have things that I think I want to do, I have spent that time lying on top of my bed thinking about how I would do all the things I want to do if I were to do them. Very productive. I think that the ideas I have are worth so much more in my head, I can fetishize every negative feeling and pretend that it makes me special or interesting in some way. But when the thoughts become words that I type out and read back, I realise how banal everything about me is. That's probably the real reason writing blog posts and writing in my journal gets a little harder every time. Here is a quick list of the things I should be doing right now: On Tuesday I had a very intense dream that was terrifying enough to make me feel slightly separate from my body all week. Even now, everything feels a little unreal and abnormal; I haven't stopped
Post a Comment
Read more
Labels

The people who try to help


Last night I dreamed I was somehow in a support group for people who suffer from Anhedonia, but for some reason everyone else in the group was getting better and pairing off. Except me(of course). I asked one of my friends why I wasn't getting better and she said it was probably because I didn't do the exercises and I look too scary for anyone to even ever approach me, never mind love me. I know it was just a dream, but it's still really bugging me.

Daar is nooit gesels tussen hulle nie. Hoekom moet daar wees, hulle deel nie die selfde wêreld nie.
--Manie Groenwald(In grys se duisende kleure)

I've gone back on my Marilyn Monroe kick(not that I was ever really off it) and I've been wondering what was going through her mind in the days leading up to her death, if she really was just having some serious trouble sleeping and accidentally took too many sleeping pills. I imagine there were people around her(including doctors) who all wanted to help her, tried talking to her and convincing her to stay positive, but it's hard to do that when you can't even fucking sleep.

You think that when you stand on the ledge, there are going to be all these people who come out of nowhere and scream their heads off trying to convince you not to jump, like in the movies. I stood on the ledge of a building(with my trusty bottle of wine) for over an hour and no one even noticed I'd gone up to the roof. You think you matter, you think life and love and the strength of your emotions matter. But they don't. Nothing matters and no one is coming to save you. Take that for just what it is.

The people around me who love me(including one doctor) keep trying to get me to "cheer up", but they all speak to me like they know how I'm feeling, like we're even sharing the same reality. I appreciate everything they try to do for me, it's just that their half-hearted attempts at occasionally saying something pleasant to me is nothing compared to the constant pain and screaming in my head. They can't help me, we don't share the same world. I am not part of the reality they live in and they could never possibly be a part of mine. Or maybe I'm just being spoiled and whiny and I deserve to die, if only to save others from hearing about my constant complaining. And then there's this...
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts