Are you supposed to almost panic at the idea of spending the night at the old folks place?
Are you supposed to feel like such a fucking misfits even there?
And I tried, I really tried to be sociable.
Shouldn't have been drinking wine.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Drive On
Yesterday I reread a book called "med uppenbar känsla för stil." A Swedish dissection of manhood, manliness, male culture etc. And a totally merciless dissection at that. It hit me like a hammer to both the head and the heart. Even more this time than the first time I read it. I recognize just about everything in that book. And I don't know when I feel worse. When I feel like "yes, this is the way I am and it is disgusting" or when I feel "no, this isn't the way I am but it is the way I am supposed to be. The way I have to act to be able to walk through this unscathed."
I see it so well. Being a man. What you have to be, what you have to do, how you have to act. At times I think there is something beautiful about at and at the same time it disgust me. It is so limiting. It is killing me. It is killing us all.
I am not wrong. That is the thing. I'm not like this because I want to, because it started of like a "fuck you" to the world. I am like this as a reaction to the world. Sure, I could dress differently, I could behave differently, I could think differently. But I shouldn't have to. That is the thing. I'm not like this because I don't want to be a part of the world, I am like this because I have to be a part of something, I have to have something when the world rejected me. The walls around me are there for a reason. Why should I crawl to the cross and ask to be a part of it now? I'm not the one to blame, not from the start. I didn't set out to be 'alternative' or what the fuck you want to call it. I became that way because that was the only place where I could make any kind of room for myself. Granted, at the moment it is a small, dank room. But it is mine. I took it. Contrary to what people might believe, it is not an act of opposition. It is not against the world or society or whatever you might want to call it. It is just different. It is something else. Something that very much exists on it's own premises.
Granted, I am quite defensive and sometimes (quite often) I act like offence is the best defense. I am not saying I have no fault in this. I searched eagerly for something different, something that was different to the core, and now I am paying the price. That is what first attracted me to Black Metal. The fact that it was so different. It didn't make any apologies. It acted according to it's own rules, rules that was (and is) very different from the ordinary worlds. It didn't make any apologies. It wasn't 'evil' because christianity was the real evil and had treated people badly. It was evil because it was evil. Everything from lyrics to views to aestethics was so much... It was the context for itself.
But at the same time it has killed something in me. This might seem utterly pretentious, but you know about the "1000 mile stare" that war veterans supposedly get when they fully understand the horrors of war? When they have seen things that couldn't possibly be understood by the rookies or the people back home? Sometimes I feel like I got something like that. Like I have seen the Tiger smile.
It's like there has been a search for extremes. Like not being a part of the world has made me search for something that is totally different to the core. And that maybe that was too different. Like it has forced me to lie, to adapt just as much as I would have to to be a part of the real world.
And I didn't really escape. I ended up in caricature, a parody of what I didn't want to be a part of. Not something inherently different. I chose to be a part of a culture that made me a perpetrator and not a victim. And that makes me sad. Incredibly sad. I am a part of the problem. I remember me an L talking about that. That she had always been friends with the fags, the ones that got beat up. My side is the other side. And I can't but help to admire her strenght and courage to stay on that side. I can't help but admire the strength and courage for all the people who can stay their ground on that side. I feels like they remaind true to themselves in so many ways. I admire that. And it makes me sad that I, at the time, couldn't be on that side. Or chose not to stay there.
At the same time I must say that the choices I have made, the side I have been on and the ideology that runs through it has given me an immense amount of pride and strength. I am not going to deny that and I am not going to regret that. But I think that it is time for me to build up many other sides of me and realize that not all of me has to fit in that frame. There is no need for a philosophy that permeats everything I do. I can be everything I want to at the same time and I shouldn't have to justify that to anyone, not even myself. I just wish I could have realized that earlier, instead of spending the last two (or more) years just trying to fit everything into some kind of mold. Or something like that. All this makes it sound like I'm incredibly one dimensional, and I can promise you that I am not. I have more dimension than you can probably guess (someone close to me once said that she was surprised that I could still surprise her by showing her new sides of myself after knowing each other for so long. Unfortunately they where not all good.). What I mean is that they don't have to fall neatly into the same basket. They need not be related. No red thread is needed. Something like that. But it is hard to think differently, and I don't know how to do it really. Everytime I try, a little part of me is saying "you are selling out, you are betraying what you are." And that is not a nice feeling. You want to be able to look yourself in the mirror.
But this feels like the start of Ende Neu.
Johnny Cash Lyrics
Drive On Lyrics
Anyways, I recommend everyone that can (especially males) to read "med uppenbar känsla för stil." It won't take you very long (I finished it in under 3 hours) but it is really spot on. I don't know if there is anything in the book that I disagree with. It is incredibly true and because it is true it is incredibly sad (I almost started to cry a couple of times when I read it because I recognized what I am and what I am not). It explains why we have machismo (in lack of a better word) to blame for so much and how it permeats every aspect of life. That we can't go or do anything without being our genders in the first place, not even if we want to. Read it. It's an order.
But I also recommend that you read that, "Klass - Är du fin nog" by Annelie Jordahl, the "Football Factory"-trilogy by John King, "Mitt förnamn är Ronny" by Ronny Ambjörnsson and maybe "Amon the Thugs" by Bill Buford if you want to see and understand where I am coming from in some small way. Yes, I know that there is probably a dozen or so books by highly skilled scholars dealing with the same subject and probably manages to explain parts of it quite well but I doubt that the really get it, that they really understand why people act like they do on their own emotional level. And I doubt that they can convey that understanding to reader properly, on an emotional level. It like book about neo nazism. There's hundreds of reports about kids from socially 'challenged' areas, explaining how they search for some point and meaning. But that doesn't make you understand the hate they feel. Not really. It makes you understand that they hate and why they hate, but not the hate in itself. It is like that.
Anyways, those are the books that I mostly recognize (parts of) myself in. Unfortunately.
I see it so well. Being a man. What you have to be, what you have to do, how you have to act. At times I think there is something beautiful about at and at the same time it disgust me. It is so limiting. It is killing me. It is killing us all.
I am not wrong. That is the thing. I'm not like this because I want to, because it started of like a "fuck you" to the world. I am like this as a reaction to the world. Sure, I could dress differently, I could behave differently, I could think differently. But I shouldn't have to. That is the thing. I'm not like this because I don't want to be a part of the world, I am like this because I have to be a part of something, I have to have something when the world rejected me. The walls around me are there for a reason. Why should I crawl to the cross and ask to be a part of it now? I'm not the one to blame, not from the start. I didn't set out to be 'alternative' or what the fuck you want to call it. I became that way because that was the only place where I could make any kind of room for myself. Granted, at the moment it is a small, dank room. But it is mine. I took it. Contrary to what people might believe, it is not an act of opposition. It is not against the world or society or whatever you might want to call it. It is just different. It is something else. Something that very much exists on it's own premises.
Granted, I am quite defensive and sometimes (quite often) I act like offence is the best defense. I am not saying I have no fault in this. I searched eagerly for something different, something that was different to the core, and now I am paying the price. That is what first attracted me to Black Metal. The fact that it was so different. It didn't make any apologies. It acted according to it's own rules, rules that was (and is) very different from the ordinary worlds. It didn't make any apologies. It wasn't 'evil' because christianity was the real evil and had treated people badly. It was evil because it was evil. Everything from lyrics to views to aestethics was so much... It was the context for itself.
But at the same time it has killed something in me. This might seem utterly pretentious, but you know about the "1000 mile stare" that war veterans supposedly get when they fully understand the horrors of war? When they have seen things that couldn't possibly be understood by the rookies or the people back home? Sometimes I feel like I got something like that. Like I have seen the Tiger smile.
It's like there has been a search for extremes. Like not being a part of the world has made me search for something that is totally different to the core. And that maybe that was too different. Like it has forced me to lie, to adapt just as much as I would have to to be a part of the real world.
And I didn't really escape. I ended up in caricature, a parody of what I didn't want to be a part of. Not something inherently different. I chose to be a part of a culture that made me a perpetrator and not a victim. And that makes me sad. Incredibly sad. I am a part of the problem. I remember me an L talking about that. That she had always been friends with the fags, the ones that got beat up. My side is the other side. And I can't but help to admire her strenght and courage to stay on that side. I can't help but admire the strength and courage for all the people who can stay their ground on that side. I feels like they remaind true to themselves in so many ways. I admire that. And it makes me sad that I, at the time, couldn't be on that side. Or chose not to stay there.
At the same time I must say that the choices I have made, the side I have been on and the ideology that runs through it has given me an immense amount of pride and strength. I am not going to deny that and I am not going to regret that. But I think that it is time for me to build up many other sides of me and realize that not all of me has to fit in that frame. There is no need for a philosophy that permeats everything I do. I can be everything I want to at the same time and I shouldn't have to justify that to anyone, not even myself. I just wish I could have realized that earlier, instead of spending the last two (or more) years just trying to fit everything into some kind of mold. Or something like that. All this makes it sound like I'm incredibly one dimensional, and I can promise you that I am not. I have more dimension than you can probably guess (someone close to me once said that she was surprised that I could still surprise her by showing her new sides of myself after knowing each other for so long. Unfortunately they where not all good.). What I mean is that they don't have to fall neatly into the same basket. They need not be related. No red thread is needed. Something like that. But it is hard to think differently, and I don't know how to do it really. Everytime I try, a little part of me is saying "you are selling out, you are betraying what you are." And that is not a nice feeling. You want to be able to look yourself in the mirror.
But this feels like the start of Ende Neu.
Johnny Cash Lyrics
Drive On Lyrics
Anyways, I recommend everyone that can (especially males) to read "med uppenbar känsla för stil." It won't take you very long (I finished it in under 3 hours) but it is really spot on. I don't know if there is anything in the book that I disagree with. It is incredibly true and because it is true it is incredibly sad (I almost started to cry a couple of times when I read it because I recognized what I am and what I am not). It explains why we have machismo (in lack of a better word) to blame for so much and how it permeats every aspect of life. That we can't go or do anything without being our genders in the first place, not even if we want to. Read it. It's an order.
But I also recommend that you read that, "Klass - Är du fin nog" by Annelie Jordahl, the "Football Factory"-trilogy by John King, "Mitt förnamn är Ronny" by Ronny Ambjörnsson and maybe "Amon the Thugs" by Bill Buford if you want to see and understand where I am coming from in some small way. Yes, I know that there is probably a dozen or so books by highly skilled scholars dealing with the same subject and probably manages to explain parts of it quite well but I doubt that the really get it, that they really understand why people act like they do on their own emotional level. And I doubt that they can convey that understanding to reader properly, on an emotional level. It like book about neo nazism. There's hundreds of reports about kids from socially 'challenged' areas, explaining how they search for some point and meaning. But that doesn't make you understand the hate they feel. Not really. It makes you understand that they hate and why they hate, but not the hate in itself. It is like that.
Anyways, those are the books that I mostly recognize (parts of) myself in. Unfortunately.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Wails of Death
People are saying things like "let it go" and "let it be" and stuff like that. And I try. I try to just... Let it be. Let it go. But it always comes back to bite me in the ass. Everything. And this is one of those days when I feel like I could take any way out just to make it stop hurting. When I just want to fall down on my knees and cry. And scream.
Fuck.
You shouldn't read old blog entries. You just realize how fucked you have been and how many chances you missed. You see what you have forgotten. Maybe it's a good thing.
I hardly even know why I am sad anymore. My life is falling into place more and more. I'm going to send in the best job application ever on monday. I'm going to (maybe, probably not) ace the exam in the beginning of june. I got a lot of stuff for my apartment already fixed. I got more energy than I had a year ago. And yet... Everything feels so utterly pointless. So... I can't seem to activate myself. I lose track of anything. I got an attentionspan of a goldfish. I forget things. I'm confused. And I should say that although I have more energy than I had a year ago, it doesn't mean that I have that much energy. I mostly still sit and stare at the wall and avoid thinking. In the past, walking and spending time in crowds, spending time with humanity felt good. It doesn't now. I feel like a jew with a star of David on my coat walking around Berlin during the war. I miss her so much it hurts, and at the same time I don't miss her. I don't feel the same need to be with her that I once did (probably because on some level there's pain involved everytime I meed her.).
I rarely miss people, actually. I rarely feel the need to be with someone, to meet someone. But what I have learned during these months is that I have that need, even if I don't feel it.
At certain intervals I decide to just take a step back. That that is what is needed of me. But it is so hard. So hard.
I feel so selfish. I'm trying not to be. But I feel so trapped. Like this situation, the way it turned out, prevents any change. That my pride is so much in the way, and yet it is not. And that makes me ashamed of myself.
I can't feel like this. I can hardly function. I'm at work and I had to run into the toilet 3 times already because I had to cry. It doesn't work. I feel like an open wound, and it doesn't get better. I've been hyper sensitive to the whole fucking world for six fucking months now. It can't go on for so much longer.
Fuck.
You shouldn't read old blog entries. You just realize how fucked you have been and how many chances you missed. You see what you have forgotten. Maybe it's a good thing.
I hardly even know why I am sad anymore. My life is falling into place more and more. I'm going to send in the best job application ever on monday. I'm going to (maybe, probably not) ace the exam in the beginning of june. I got a lot of stuff for my apartment already fixed. I got more energy than I had a year ago. And yet... Everything feels so utterly pointless. So... I can't seem to activate myself. I lose track of anything. I got an attentionspan of a goldfish. I forget things. I'm confused. And I should say that although I have more energy than I had a year ago, it doesn't mean that I have that much energy. I mostly still sit and stare at the wall and avoid thinking. In the past, walking and spending time in crowds, spending time with humanity felt good. It doesn't now. I feel like a jew with a star of David on my coat walking around Berlin during the war. I miss her so much it hurts, and at the same time I don't miss her. I don't feel the same need to be with her that I once did (probably because on some level there's pain involved everytime I meed her.).
I rarely miss people, actually. I rarely feel the need to be with someone, to meet someone. But what I have learned during these months is that I have that need, even if I don't feel it.
At certain intervals I decide to just take a step back. That that is what is needed of me. But it is so hard. So hard.
I feel so selfish. I'm trying not to be. But I feel so trapped. Like this situation, the way it turned out, prevents any change. That my pride is so much in the way, and yet it is not. And that makes me ashamed of myself.
I can't feel like this. I can hardly function. I'm at work and I had to run into the toilet 3 times already because I had to cry. It doesn't work. I feel like an open wound, and it doesn't get better. I've been hyper sensitive to the whole fucking world for six fucking months now. It can't go on for so much longer.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
YüGung
I'm just so sad. And it doesn't seem to go away. Just transform, mutate into a different shape and then come back and show it's face and then I know what it is and that it is the exact same thing that it once was. And it makes me kind of self absorbed. Egocentric. I don't mean to be. I'm trying not to be.
This will be one of the days when I can sit with my iPod and just cry, masochistically listen to music that I know will tear my heart up. Just to get it out.
This will be one of the days when I can sit with my iPod and just cry, masochistically listen to music that I know will tear my heart up. Just to get it out.
Friday, May 16, 2008
"This is no place for me..."
A friend of mine said that the trick, the cure is to forgive yourself. To believe that you too deserve happiness. I guess it is. But every fucking waking moment just reminds me of fucking up a life. Of pain caused to myself and caused to others. Of opportunities not taken. Of what I have become. Of what I have been reduced to. I don't have any desire to die, but sometimes I just wish I could blow my brains out. Just to make it stop. Just to not feel this anymore. Just to get it to go away.
I'm trying to be honest with myself. I'm trying to take a deep close look at what I feel and what I do and why I feel it and why I do it. But I don't trust myself. And on top of that is this overlaying sense of grief. Of sorrow. Of waste.
And this feeling of ignorance. Of being ignored. Of... But it is as it is. I guess. It just... It makes the bed and pulling a blanket over me seem so tempting. And then, when I get home... I just sit there. Waiting to be so sleepy that I can fall asleep. I try to read, but I just get lost. I try to watch movies, but I just get sidetracked by my mind. Nothing seems to take up enough time. Nothing seems to do the trick.
Fuck it. Everything just seems like I'm waiting. Waiting for time to pass. And I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of waiting for this to pass, I'm tired of longing for things that can never come again, I'm tired of this life, I'm tired of being trapped, I'm tired of trying and feeling that it don't make any difference, I'm tired of seeing my mistakes, tired of seeing others mistakes that they kept doing because I didn't have the guts to speak out (my own mistakes again), tired of being reminded by the silliest things, tired of feeling so strange and alien, of having no connection to the real world, tired of not being able to open up, tired of feeling like I've wasted myself, tired of tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired. Tired of writing it here. Tired of people looking at me as I am some kind of freak (and yet I feel like I can't stop, because that would be giving up. Giving in. Selling out.).
And bored. Bored with myself.
Should you let the little madness run loose or should you try and keep it under control?
I just want to lock myself up again. Not leaving the little safe havens I have created unless I have to. And I know and fear that will get worse (even though I have nothing to do in those little confines of mine. Nothing but myself and I am not good company for myself.).
I have been drinking too much coffe.
I feel so fucking alien. And I felt like that was proved about a week ago. Probably the reason I got so incredibly drunk. Just to destroy it.
And I'm tired of being angry. But right now all I want to do is scream. Just let everything rip out of my chest, like a fucking whirlwind of emotions, a maelstroem of destruction. Primeval Mother Chaos manifesting as sound and tears and pain.
And you haven't even seen half of what I am...
I'm trying to be honest with myself. I'm trying to take a deep close look at what I feel and what I do and why I feel it and why I do it. But I don't trust myself. And on top of that is this overlaying sense of grief. Of sorrow. Of waste.
And this feeling of ignorance. Of being ignored. Of... But it is as it is. I guess. It just... It makes the bed and pulling a blanket over me seem so tempting. And then, when I get home... I just sit there. Waiting to be so sleepy that I can fall asleep. I try to read, but I just get lost. I try to watch movies, but I just get sidetracked by my mind. Nothing seems to take up enough time. Nothing seems to do the trick.
Fuck it. Everything just seems like I'm waiting. Waiting for time to pass. And I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of waiting for this to pass, I'm tired of longing for things that can never come again, I'm tired of this life, I'm tired of being trapped, I'm tired of trying and feeling that it don't make any difference, I'm tired of seeing my mistakes, tired of seeing others mistakes that they kept doing because I didn't have the guts to speak out (my own mistakes again), tired of being reminded by the silliest things, tired of feeling so strange and alien, of having no connection to the real world, tired of not being able to open up, tired of feeling like I've wasted myself, tired of tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired tired. Tired of writing it here. Tired of people looking at me as I am some kind of freak (and yet I feel like I can't stop, because that would be giving up. Giving in. Selling out.).
And bored. Bored with myself.
Should you let the little madness run loose or should you try and keep it under control?
I just want to lock myself up again. Not leaving the little safe havens I have created unless I have to. And I know and fear that will get worse (even though I have nothing to do in those little confines of mine. Nothing but myself and I am not good company for myself.).
I have been drinking too much coffe.
I feel so fucking alien. And I felt like that was proved about a week ago. Probably the reason I got so incredibly drunk. Just to destroy it.
And I'm tired of being angry. But right now all I want to do is scream. Just let everything rip out of my chest, like a fucking whirlwind of emotions, a maelstroem of destruction. Primeval Mother Chaos manifesting as sound and tears and pain.
And you haven't even seen half of what I am...
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Dreams Of Unknown Kadath
So...
Yesterday I dreamt that one of the cats (Kali to be more precise) got killed.
Tonight I dreamed that I couldn't leave work. People just wouldn't leave. I tried to throw them out, but they just kept coming.
I woke up several times, but I just ended up in the same dream everytime I went back to sleep. A couple of times I realized that I was just dreaming, but I couldn't change the dream. As a matter of fact it just got worse when I tried.
I don't know. I feel stuck. Trapped.
I've come to the conclusion that although I feel the need to spend time with people, I am not really a social person. Sometimes it is because they bore me and I just don't have the energy to pretend. Sometimes it is because I don't dare to be. Sometimes it is because I really don't know how to do it. I don't know hot to connect. I don't know how people work. And I have always recented small talk in a way. Just shallow and empty frases, uttered just to kill time. Sort of like that. Superficial clap trap. But I guess you have to start at the surface if you want to get deeper.
Sometimes it is just the fact that my kind of small talk is fucked up. Too extreme. Because I think extreme fucked up things, my life is fucked up, so many of my friends and foes are extreme and fucked up. Sometimes I just think that I am so far out there. And I don't want to start lying to people, to start pretending either. I don't want to stand there and pretend I care when we could discuss something worth while. Something that maybe would change us both. One problem with that is that I think that a lot of people have a problem with understanding me.
I don't know. I just hate the idea of for examle talking about jobs or something like that. Jobs mean nothing. They are just something you do to get by. They are not you or me. I guess that sort of thinking explains why I am stuck where I am stuck.
I feel like the main character in Einztürzende Neubauten's video to "Sabrina." And it made me cry. Just stumbling on that video. Just seeing myself.
At least this has rewakened some sort of interest for music in me.
Some sort of storm is coming. Or some sort of darkness. Maybe just material. Maybe worse. Maybe better.
Discovery of the day:
Yesterday I dreamt that one of the cats (Kali to be more precise) got killed.
Tonight I dreamed that I couldn't leave work. People just wouldn't leave. I tried to throw them out, but they just kept coming.
I woke up several times, but I just ended up in the same dream everytime I went back to sleep. A couple of times I realized that I was just dreaming, but I couldn't change the dream. As a matter of fact it just got worse when I tried.
I don't know. I feel stuck. Trapped.
I've come to the conclusion that although I feel the need to spend time with people, I am not really a social person. Sometimes it is because they bore me and I just don't have the energy to pretend. Sometimes it is because I don't dare to be. Sometimes it is because I really don't know how to do it. I don't know hot to connect. I don't know how people work. And I have always recented small talk in a way. Just shallow and empty frases, uttered just to kill time. Sort of like that. Superficial clap trap. But I guess you have to start at the surface if you want to get deeper.
Sometimes it is just the fact that my kind of small talk is fucked up. Too extreme. Because I think extreme fucked up things, my life is fucked up, so many of my friends and foes are extreme and fucked up. Sometimes I just think that I am so far out there. And I don't want to start lying to people, to start pretending either. I don't want to stand there and pretend I care when we could discuss something worth while. Something that maybe would change us both. One problem with that is that I think that a lot of people have a problem with understanding me.
I don't know. I just hate the idea of for examle talking about jobs or something like that. Jobs mean nothing. They are just something you do to get by. They are not you or me. I guess that sort of thinking explains why I am stuck where I am stuck.
I feel like the main character in Einztürzende Neubauten's video to "Sabrina." And it made me cry. Just stumbling on that video. Just seeing myself.
At least this has rewakened some sort of interest for music in me.
Some sort of storm is coming. Or some sort of darkness. Maybe just material. Maybe worse. Maybe better.
Discovery of the day:
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
So I was awake relatively early today. To what use? No use what so ever.
I had a horrible dream tonight. And waking up withouth the Cats made it worse (since it was about losing one of the Cats in a horrible way).
I got to stop feeling this way. Somehow. It's like a fucking tar pit bubbling in my stomach.
God. All I really want to do is just pull a blanket over my head, stay in bed forever and cry. But what for? I don't know what has changed so much during the last few days to make me feel like this. I mean I had a couple of weeks of relative tranquility. And now this.
Fuck.
Nothing changes. It still comes as a chock everytime I really realize that "no, this really is over." I still spend every morning crying in the shower. I'm still always just a fraction of an inch from just falling into a sobbing little pile any time of the day.
The only thing that has changed is the fact that it once felt liberating. Now it feels like it felt before. Nauseating. Humiliating. Weak.
I don't know what to do. I don't know how to do this. I am trying. I'm trying to take a good close look at everything, I'm trying to see things and to see things the way they are and all, as much as I can. But it ain't helping. Now right now, anyway.
I had a horrible dream tonight. And waking up withouth the Cats made it worse (since it was about losing one of the Cats in a horrible way).
I got to stop feeling this way. Somehow. It's like a fucking tar pit bubbling in my stomach.
God. All I really want to do is just pull a blanket over my head, stay in bed forever and cry. But what for? I don't know what has changed so much during the last few days to make me feel like this. I mean I had a couple of weeks of relative tranquility. And now this.
Fuck.
Nothing changes. It still comes as a chock everytime I really realize that "no, this really is over." I still spend every morning crying in the shower. I'm still always just a fraction of an inch from just falling into a sobbing little pile any time of the day.
The only thing that has changed is the fact that it once felt liberating. Now it feels like it felt before. Nauseating. Humiliating. Weak.
I don't know what to do. I don't know how to do this. I am trying. I'm trying to take a good close look at everything, I'm trying to see things and to see things the way they are and all, as much as I can. But it ain't helping. Now right now, anyway.
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