Can someone explain to me how some people are able to just erase you from their lives as though you had never impacted it? Can you just ignore the past and move on without questioning that blank space left behind?
Sometimes I wish I could just disappear from here and insert myself in a place where no one knows me and I can start anew. But that's not life, is it? Yes, people do it, probably more often than I know, but I cannot. Responsibilities to others and to myself keep me grounded. But sometimes, like these past few weeks, I wish I could say to hell with my responsibilities. Just leave. I will not be missed.
I used to think that if I died tonight, no one would notice for days, or weeks. Now, I know that it is not true. And the only reason I say this is that I have a job and my responsibilities to it. That's all.
In the end, I'm alone. To a certain extent, we all are. When I am stable, it is okay. I'm an expert at being alone, I know how to survive.
I look back on my university writings and the themes are the same. The bitterness of failure keeps coming back. It's never really gone anywhere. It surrounds us.
I wrote this while I studied at Dalhousie University. I find, to a certain extent, it still applies. How sad...:
November. 3, 1998
Mama I’m scared. I saw, I see it before me. It’s Failure. She’s approaching. Blackness, it comes, it wants to envelop me into its world. Oh, god, it’s a cloud above me now, it takes on so many shapes that each time I think it’s gone, it reappears in a different form. Why am I doomed to this? What did I do wrong? Or right? What did I say? Was it something I said? Silence. It’s palpable. I never wanted it to be this way. Never, never. Why now, why here? No, I’m not mad, I’m sad. What’s going on in that head, that head that isn’t mine? What are those thoughts? Why hide from me? It’s just me. Am I so scary, so repulsive, so wrong that I can no longer share the air? Why have I been shut out? I knew there was a door, but it’s been slammed in my face. Hard, really hard. Was that the intention? Was that a craftily set up plan? How could I have opened up my heart? Because now there is a puckering of the muscle, it’s been poisoned. And every time I encounter this other mind, this other presence, my own mind, the ego, laughs at me. At my stupidity. Why did I even try? Why did I open my mouth? Would it have been better otherwise? Who knows? I certainly don’t. But I can’t shed the tears that should flow now. I’ve never been able to let the sweet salt touch my lips for one of them. It’s the disappointment that I feel now which stems from the flower of hope. Hope that each time it will be different. Each time it isn’t. It’s a different face, but it’s the same outcome. Short-lived, unpleasant to view when the eyes open after the crash. Fuck the stock market and its crashes. This is what’s important. People. People who surround us constantly. We can’t get away no matter how we try. But was I so wrong that I thought differently about this? Was I disillusioned? Was it all a ploy? I think not. I think not. Bitterness swells inside. Bitterness smiles at me. She’s told me before that this is the way it is. I keep on defying Her, thinking She must be wrong. But has She ever been? No. She hasn’t. Fuck you Bitterness. Fuck You and what You stand for. You make me sick. I never want to see You again. But I know You’ll hold on to me. Your arms, longer than anything I’ve seen, are wrapped around me. I can’t breathe, I see the blackness approaching me. It’s getting closer, You’re squeezing harder. It’s above me. But in the darkness that now surrounds me, that surrounds me fully, I see the lingering smile that You offer me, floating gently in a breeze that I don’t feel. I see it, I see it and I hate it. Forever, I promise You.
Sometimes I wish I could just disappear from here and insert myself in a place where no one knows me and I can start anew. But that's not life, is it? Yes, people do it, probably more often than I know, but I cannot. Responsibilities to others and to myself keep me grounded. But sometimes, like these past few weeks, I wish I could say to hell with my responsibilities. Just leave. I will not be missed.
I used to think that if I died tonight, no one would notice for days, or weeks. Now, I know that it is not true. And the only reason I say this is that I have a job and my responsibilities to it. That's all.
In the end, I'm alone. To a certain extent, we all are. When I am stable, it is okay. I'm an expert at being alone, I know how to survive.
I look back on my university writings and the themes are the same. The bitterness of failure keeps coming back. It's never really gone anywhere. It surrounds us.
I wrote this while I studied at Dalhousie University. I find, to a certain extent, it still applies. How sad...:
November. 3, 1998
Mama I’m scared. I saw, I see it before me. It’s Failure. She’s approaching. Blackness, it comes, it wants to envelop me into its world. Oh, god, it’s a cloud above me now, it takes on so many shapes that each time I think it’s gone, it reappears in a different form. Why am I doomed to this? What did I do wrong? Or right? What did I say? Was it something I said? Silence. It’s palpable. I never wanted it to be this way. Never, never. Why now, why here? No, I’m not mad, I’m sad. What’s going on in that head, that head that isn’t mine? What are those thoughts? Why hide from me? It’s just me. Am I so scary, so repulsive, so wrong that I can no longer share the air? Why have I been shut out? I knew there was a door, but it’s been slammed in my face. Hard, really hard. Was that the intention? Was that a craftily set up plan? How could I have opened up my heart? Because now there is a puckering of the muscle, it’s been poisoned. And every time I encounter this other mind, this other presence, my own mind, the ego, laughs at me. At my stupidity. Why did I even try? Why did I open my mouth? Would it have been better otherwise? Who knows? I certainly don’t. But I can’t shed the tears that should flow now. I’ve never been able to let the sweet salt touch my lips for one of them. It’s the disappointment that I feel now which stems from the flower of hope. Hope that each time it will be different. Each time it isn’t. It’s a different face, but it’s the same outcome. Short-lived, unpleasant to view when the eyes open after the crash. Fuck the stock market and its crashes. This is what’s important. People. People who surround us constantly. We can’t get away no matter how we try. But was I so wrong that I thought differently about this? Was I disillusioned? Was it all a ploy? I think not. I think not. Bitterness swells inside. Bitterness smiles at me. She’s told me before that this is the way it is. I keep on defying Her, thinking She must be wrong. But has She ever been? No. She hasn’t. Fuck you Bitterness. Fuck You and what You stand for. You make me sick. I never want to see You again. But I know You’ll hold on to me. Your arms, longer than anything I’ve seen, are wrapped around me. I can’t breathe, I see the blackness approaching me. It’s getting closer, You’re squeezing harder. It’s above me. But in the darkness that now surrounds me, that surrounds me fully, I see the lingering smile that You offer me, floating gently in a breeze that I don’t feel. I see it, I see it and I hate it. Forever, I promise You.
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