Sekirei

Remember Me

Remember us, and all we used to be...

Short entry, I hope.
Sekirei
capnspiffy
Well, the sedatives didn't work well last night, but they're sure working now. So damn tired, but now I'm supposed to be up. After abusing the snooze button on my alarm for hours, I was finally roused by knocking on the door. It was the UPS guy with my bed I ordered. I barely got to the door in time. And I'm sure I looked great, in my PJs with my hair all fucky. Yeah, fucky. That's the word for it. Fucked up just doesn't seem to express it well enough.

But now I'm considering not going to work. I feel too weak from the sleeping pills. And nauseous on top of that. Probably from the same thing. I'm rather dizzy, and just had to jump up and run through the house, then carry in three large boxes. My stomach just does not thank me. I think I'll at least go in to work, so I don't have an absence counted against me, but I may end up leaving early. I'm honestly not supposed to even be driving on this stuff...oh well.

Guh, my dream last night did not help, either. Because of everything on my mind, that's all I dreamed about. The stuff that's going wrong. The people who are gone. In the dream, I was apparently homeless, and retracing my steps back through other places I'd been. There were a ton of people from my waking life, including a former roommate, the lady who works at the local Subway, that person I'm always stressing over, and a few people I knew in college. I was trying to track down that one friend, sort of. Not really tracking her down, I guess, because I wasn't going to go see her. I don't really know what I was doing. I did at one point see her, but just kept going. I was apparently wanting to tell her thank you for the help she gave me when we were friends. But I never did. It was a weird dream. And I woke up from it feeling even more awful. Sleep used to be an escape. I hate dreams like that.

And there's still the issue that plagues my mind constantly (if anyone actually read this they'd be getting sick of hearing it): is she really gone? Does she really hate me? Is this really forever? Before she was still there. I felt it all along. It's why I crazily wrote in a journal like this, because I knew someone was there. The inscription on my arm tells me to go on...there was kind intent behind those words, a will for someone to have me live and be happy. I don't know if that intent is now dead. These more recent words to me make me think that they resent any help they gave. I'm honestly not sure. People aren't very clear sometimes, and unfairly refuse to have a real two-way conversation. Maybe they're still there. Maybe they still care. "Maybe" is the most I can say. I'm afraid to let myself entertain that thought now, though. Afraid to lead myself on and then find out I was wrong. But I can't stop thinking about it. I keep trying to distract myself with books, shows, games, shopping...but I just can't. I wish I was so easily pleased as most of my peers. One time in a class, my professor asked if you can buy happiness at Wal-Mart, which everyone seems to think has EVERYTHING. One kid honestly answered yes, because they sell XBoxes there. The professor was appalled at how most people mistake pleasure for real happiness. I don't know if I pity or envy those people. Everyone wants to find "real happiness." Well, I found it, but there's also the downfall that you'll experience "real misery" as well if you lose it. Maybe life would be better with just minor pleasures and the minor disappointments that come with losing them. That sounds cheap to me, but hey...ugh, no, I don't think I could live like that after knowing the feeling of real care, love and fulfillment. Oh, the plague of not being shallow. Are all the good people in the world miserable?

Bah, but I must go get ready for work, I guess. I'm terribly behind schedule. I pray that this day carries some sort of a sign as to what's real anymore.

Can't think of a title. Seriously.
Sekirei
capnspiffy
Don't they always say this shit gets easier? Why is it that nothing ever goes according to plan with me? I started out okay. Thought I was going to move on. Now here I am, awake in the middle of the night (okay, early morning, but that's smack in the middle of my sleeping period on my schedule) absolutely crazy with grief, uncertainty, and fear. I'm cracking up. The thought of even getting up in the morning and getting ready is overwhelming. I've already missed work on account of this. I can't keep doing that. I find myself cracking under the pressure at work now, too. Usually I can suppress things well enough in public, where appearances are important. But all of this is too much now. There's just too much that I can't fix now. Even if I get professional help again (something I have been wanting and trying to do since I ran out of my medication a couple years ago), what good will it do? What will I get out of it? I'll still remain despised, even though the root of all of this is an illness. I'll still have to live every day with the knowledge that I wasn't good enough to wait for. That the people in my life that claimed to care would rather throw me away than try to help someone who's obviously ill. I've never been able to really make an effort for something unless there's something waiting for me at the end of it. If it would help a friend, I'd do it. If it would fix the damage that's been done, I'd do it. If I had any thought at all that it would help anything in any way, I'd do it. But I just can't see anything beyond all this mess. That's the fun of this disease. If you don't have someone to point you in the right direction, you don't know which way to go. You can't see anything but pain and misery. I've tried so hard to explain it, but no one gets it. They just flip out and yell at me for what I already know this is making me do. It makes me delusional. It makes me lash out in strange ways. It makes me panic. I've told them. All of them. I'm sick. They just keep yelling that I have a problem. Can't they hear that I'm trying to tell them that? I'm quite aware I have a problem! But in this world, unless I have money, and a lot of it, I can't get help. Not right now. I've been trying to hold out at my job, get raises and whatnot so eventually be able to afford it. But I don't know if I care now. I can't help that I feel that way. People seem to think I should be able to control every little feeling I have. I can't. No one can. People feel the way they feel, and choose to either act on it or go into denial. But that doesn't change the way they feel. And denial is not healthy. It's much healthier to accept yourself the way you are. But as I also said, that loses me the ability to have friends, I guess. So...lie about myself or be alone. Such great options. I know if I go to a shrink, that's going to be the first thing they'll ask anyway: "do you have a friend or someone you can trust to talk about these things with?" I've been to enough psychiatrists and counselors to know. I'll have to say "no," and then they'll tell me, "well that's not good. You need to be able to talk to someone." What the fuck do I do there? They'll just tell me to try to explain my sickness and rebuild my friendships, ignoring me when I say that's not possible anymore. All I'm trying to do is get some damn pills. But you can't say that to a doctor. They'll think I'm a druggie. e_e Damn it, I just know what works. I don't understand why it's not even okay for me to vent. People who were my friends told me to live...this is how I cope with no one to talk to directly. I AM trying to live. I want more than anything to be okay. But I can't be okay when I'm being criminalized for things beyond my control. They act like I LIKE what this does to me, what it makes me do. But apparently I just make people feel guilty when I tell them how much they help me. When I ask them just to exist in my life. Just to try to wait this out with me. I can't help how I feel; I can't help that having a friend makes life a tad easier. I'd stick around with someone I cared about. No question. But...I guess I'm just not worth it. No one can kick me for saying that now. It must be true. If I were worth a damn to anyone, I wouldn't be alone. I went through all of this before, got help, tried to get better, because I honestly thought I could win back my friends and my life. That was a goal worth working for. But it's been forced upon me over and over that this time they're gone for good. I don't know what that's supposed to accomplish. They know it will crush me. They know in this state I'll probably never be able to recover. Maybe, if my mind wasn't slipping out of my control, I could deal. But when it's going to be months before I can even consider medical help...I don't even want to think about what I might do before then. As I've tried to explain, I'm not bloody suicidal. Everyone tries to label me as that. I keep telling them that my fear is I might turn that way. I don't KNOW what will happen. All I know is a lot of bipolars end up that way. I've known some personally, even, and that held true for them. Can't people see I want to live? Can't they see I'm scared of losing my will to live? Can't they see that everything I do, no matter how strange it seems, is an attempt to save myself? I try to talk about my problems so they don't consume me. They say I'm "complaining about being alive." That's not true! I don't want to die, I want to fix my problems so I can live! I don't feel I can ever have peace until those people see the truth in this, but they'll never listen now. They never wanted to see the good in me at all; just the bad. I shared everything with them. My accomplishments and how much I've grown, and the things I was doing that made me happy, made me proud. But, like anyone, there were also things that made me unhappy. Why am I suddenly criminal for feeling the same way everyone else does? My friends vented to me when things were going wrong in their lives, too...I figured they would understand. I listened to them. Tried to help them. Was just there for them, at least. Why can't I be afforded the same human right? They say I made them feel guilty, but they make me feel inhuman now. I'm not a person to anyone anymore, I guess. But that's supposed to give me drive to live. Right. No matter how much I cared for them and was always there for them, they accused me of not caring at all, of abandoning them. They were all I bloody lived for. They were the one thing that was real in a sea of fake people who just wanted to use me. I made that as clear as possible to them. I told them how much they meant to me. Often. They called me a liar. Told me I wasn't doing enough for them. Said that I was using them as a "last resort" when I clearly preferred them to anyone and anything else. I don't know what else I could have done. I didn't use them. I meant it when I said I loved them. Why can no one believe that? Why does no one believe that under all this sickness I'm just a normal person? Why do a few missteps completely negate all the good in me? I need these questions answered. I need to understand, and to be understood. I just can't go on with this consuming me like this. It's not fair. Everyone else gets closure while I'm left to question everything in vain and suffer for it. This is normalcy for me. This is me when I can think. Miserable still. So what will medication accomplish anymore? It will allow me to more rationally think about having lost everything. That's...great. No pill can fix this kind of damage. Why waste the money anymore? I know what I'll do already. I'll just bury myself in indulgences and fake friends in an attempt to forget. Like before. It'll work for a while, but...there's no doubt that this will plague me forever. So to all of you who claim I don't care about you: why would this be bothering me if I didn't give a shit about you? It wouldn't. Chew on that a while, huh?

Anyway...as awful as I feel, I need to try to get some sleep. I took a sedative over an hour ago, that's supposed to have me sleeping like a baby in fifteen minutes. Didn't work. I'm going to go take another and hope I can rest for a bit. I hope tomorrow brings some kind of hope for me.

Drugs, plz.
Sekirei
capnspiffy
I can't stop trying to sort shit out in my head, even though it won't make any difference now. It's honestly a blur now, everything that's happened. I'm not sure what I did anymore. I'm starting to believe everyone's accusations. But at the same time, I'm not. Yeah, makes no sense, right? Welcome to my world. I attribute it mostly to the fact that no one's bothered to actually have a normal, civil conversation with about anything serious in ages. It always turns to me getting yelled at, all the guilt for everything being put on me, cheap shots, hypocrisy, and just baseless injury. Leads to a whole lot of fucking confusion. I know I've fucked up some things, but I'm not the only damn one. Most of the time, people just get pissed with me because they don't like my opinion, or because I'm too practical and honest. Apparently the way to keep friends is to lie. Since any time I've told the truth about anything that matters, I've gotten people at my throat. And the solution to any negative action toward me by others is to hide. Another form of lying. I guess it's true that no one can hate me for what I am if I lie about what I am, but what the fuck kind of life is that? I still know that they hate what I really am. I'll still feel shitty being around them. I know this because I've done it. I don't like it. But then I'm told NOT to lie and NOT to be fake in the same breath...UGH, so frustrating. I know I've said all this before in other entries and whatnot, but it's still really bothering me. I hate that I'll never get any closure on this, and it will just keep bothering me. It doesn't help also having neurological problems with shit like this going on. Escalates all the already-tumultuous thought patterns into goddamn madness, to the point where I can't focus on anything else at all, and I just want to smash my head against the wall until it shuts up. I've tried to get back on my medication, to at least turn the volume in my head down to a dull roar, but there just is no way I can afford a $300/month prescription regimen. I would need insurance, which is going to run me $100/month plus the price of the meds, which would be greatly discounted, but that's still more than I can afford. I've tried numerous government agencies, but none of them will help. Sometimes the company that produces the drug will assist you, but lithium's not covered by a company. Generic only. It's not all that widely used, I guess. Dunno why; it worked great for me. I really miss having control of my brain. Like right now...I randomly hit a manic spell. Now I feel silly and giggly. I still know things aren't okay, but...I feel like skipping and...flying. It bothers me. It also bothers me that I'm still drawing a blank on what to do with my life. Nothing pulls me. I can think of...small projects I want to do. Games I want to play. Books I want to read. But that ain't a life goal. Is it? I've known a lot of people that really don't do anything.

I almost forgot for a second what's going on. What's happened. I remember now. Feels like I got punched in the stomach. Is this my fault, or not? All I know is...I don't know. Not right now. Ask me later. I'm sure it's still there, but my mind is on vacation. Yep, I could reeeaaaally use those pills about now. I almost feel a panic coming on. Damn it, I hate panic attacks. I miss my anxiety disorder. It was so easy to get rid of. Some bloody self-therapy with the guidance of a friend, and I solved it almost overnight. Neuroses are so easy. It's not as easy to alter my serotonin uptake manually. It's amazing how much grief has been caused by something as small as a genetic misalignment. Amazing how people will hate me for it.

Off topic time: there's a ghost in my room. Right now. I can feel something drifting around in here. Both physically and otherwise. It's not scary, just...here. It seems bored. Restless. I wonder who it is. Why they're still here. I sometimes wonder what will happen to me after I die...I've heard, of course, that if something remains unfulfilled in your life, you hang around after death until it's resolved. That's both comforting and not...on the one hand, it would eventually get resolved! On the other hand...no one said you can't get stuck here forever. It may never be resolved. That's something else I'm apparently awful and "depressive and morbid" for: interest in death and the afterlife, and not being afraid of it. People think that equals suicidal. Nooooo, sillies, that means acceptance. That means that I'll just be calm rather than kicking and screaming and pleading when the end of my life rolls around. I actually feel bad for people who aren't like me. Amazing how so many people I know call themselves Christians, but act like such nihilists. I'm really sick of being battered for thinking there are fates worse than death. Drawn-out suffering from an illness, for instance. I've watched many a person struggle with an illness for years, and they all begged for death before the end. When your dog is suffering, everyone agrees that the kind and humane thing to do is put him down, and put him out of his misery. Why can humans not have that courtesy? Makes me feel like shit honestly when people express a desire to have me live, no matter how much pain I'll be in. I'm really curious what they want me alive for. But no one will tell me! They say I'm being "depressive" again. *rolls eyes*

But I think I should go. It's Sunday night; work tomorrow, and I've not gotten to relax all weekend. I still don't get to now. I have to go shower, then make a list of all the work that will have to be carried over to tomorrow morning before work. Guh, two days a week is not nearly enough time to live. Later, world.

I'm such a Jew...and loving it.
Sekirei
capnspiffy
I used coupons at three places, a discount card at another, then went to Ikea. Today was a win.

A random side note...
Sekirei
capnspiffy
Just wanted to share a line that I read just now that for some reason reached out to me.

"Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end."

I don't know why it pulled me so much. Is it because I want it to be true, or because it really is? Or am I just tired? Either way, I almost feel heartened by it. Though I'm made slightly dismal again by remembering that I'm only talking to myself.

It's a strange malfunction that makes me post here. I want to be heard. But I don't want to force my words on unwilling ears. It makes me feel better to get my thoughts out here, but only if it's posted publicly. Even though I know probably no one will see this, it's still a remote possibility that someone will, and that helps me a little. As I said, I'm strange. Trying to understand gives me a headache, so I will spare myself and go. I feel almost calm now. Good night, loves. <3

Ghjfbflaui. Crappy morning.
Sekirei
capnspiffy
I think UUGGGGH is my word of the day. Woke up sick. Again. Slept late. Again. I dread having to go to work anymore because of all the shitty drama people keep starting with me there. I feel awkward just standing around by myself, having to stay away from people because I really don't want them to tear into me again for some reason. And all the people that are pissed at me for some reason tend to cluster together. Right by the time clock when it's time to clock out. So I just kind of hang back by the supervisor's desk and pretend to be occupied with something until the bell rings and they leave.

I hate feeling like this. It's affecting everything. The cat hates me now, because I blew up on her for that damn earsplitting howling she always has to do. It's just touching a nerve today. I also haven't handled the birds in a while, because I'm too preoccupied with shit...and I'm so weak now that it's torture to have to hold my arm up for that long to have them perch on it. I can't believe I have to go through all this now. God damn it, I was getting so much better! I had so much energy, was so happy, was making a lot of progress with Zeke, my skittish hand-fearing budgie, work was okay (I was even able to handle some overtime)...even after the first round of drama hit me, I was okay. I thought I would be alright, just go on, keep doing stuff...I was honestly surprised by my strength. I was actually perfectly calm and even happy still after a huge falling-out with someone very important to me and losing them forever, apparently. But...as I said in my previous entry, bad shit has to come all at once for me. More and more just keeps piling on, and it's getting to be too much now. It's making me ill, I can't eat, don't sleep well, get dizzy and exhausted very quickly again, and my breathing problems are worsening. Also, I believe I had put on a little weight, but looked in the mirror yesterday, and found, much to my dismay, that I appear to have shrunken again. u_u And my acne that I tried so hard to get rid of, that was almost gone, is now coming back in full force. Fuck. I was finally going to be able to do a photoshoot that I've been planning and stockpiling cool costume pieces for for AGES, but I can't do it looking like a pimply zombie that's been punched in the eyes. Never seen dark circles this dark outside of meth addicts. Guh. Guess I could do a shoot as a zombie...but damn it, that shoot I had planned was going to kick so much ass! But it's not like I have anyone to show the photos too anymore, anyway. I was mainly excited about getting to show them off to my friends. Kinda kills my drive when no one will even see them. I guess I could put them online, but I never get anything other than lewd, inappropriate comments from guys I don't even know. Um, yay? It really does kill my excitement about doing anything when I have no one to share it with. And it's hard to get into anything when I'm sick. It takes all my effort just to stay on my feet. Anything that kept me entertained, boosted my mood a little, no longer helps. All the shit going on far outweighs any amusement I used to gain from games, artwork, shows, etc. Even August, my other bird, getting his head stuck in a paper cup just now only made me smirk a little. I just wish I could get out of this funk. But...there's no shittier feeling to me than having no friends, knowing that no one gives a crap about you. The only way I've ever gotten past it is...I guess making myself think someone was still there. I could tell there was still someone before when something like this happened. And I was right. But...as I said, this time I probably shouldn't let myself believe that.

But man, this is aggravating. I figure out what I want in life, like everyone has always told me to do since I first learned to fucking walk, and then am just pretty much told, "oh, well, you can't have THAT...pick something else." Great, huh? I'm just so sick of not being worth a damn, no matter what I do. Sick of people telling me I am, then abandoning me. That makes no sense. If I'm worth something, prove it. If I'm not a horrible person, stop throwing me away. If you don't hate me, stop purposely building me up and tearing me down in ways you know will mortally wound. "You're a great person, but i don't want anything to do with you." How exactly is that supposed to make me feel? o___O I don't know what to believe from people who act like that. They tell me one thing, act to the opposite. As I said, maybe they're just fucked up...or maybe it's me. Since this is not just one person doing this to me, but everyone I was close to. Maybe I am just really damn awful. I wish I could at least see what's so bad about me. I thought I was a pretty decent person. I've done everything possible to help people I cared about. To be a good friend. But I guess that can't be true. If I was a good person, I wouldn't be insanely spilling my innermost thoughts to an unfeeling webpage. Well, maybe I should just swear off of people. If this is what's going to happen every time, if I really make people so damn miserable, maybe I SHOULD just be alone. No one can expect me to be happy being a pariah, but then again...no one cares anymore do they? No one knows what I'm thinking, what I'm going through...no human will probably ever read this. Well, hope they're all happy, then. Maybe I've finally done the world a favor by disappearing.

Lost it all. Again.
Sekirei
capnspiffy
Hi Livejournal; you're my only friend now, I guess.

Damn, it seems every time I have something going for me, my life is getting to some point of okay-ness, I'm happy with myself, my situation...something just HAS to happen to fuck it up. I don't even know how it all happened; it really made no sense. But now I haven't a single friend. Again. I've lost count now of all the people who want me dead, who think I'm a horrible, good-for-nothing, mean, worthless piece of trash. I just don't understand. All I've ever done is try to be there for people. Try to be a good friend. I've taken a lot of shit for people over the years. Standing up for my friends has earned me some horrible abuse. People should be in jail for some of the shit they've done to me just for telling them to shut the fuck up about my friends. But I'm not going to get into that. Anything that had been wrong with me, I've fixed. I've changed completely. Over and over. But people always just have new complaints about me, now just ridiculous things. Just having emotion now is bad, I guess. Even when I do EVERYTHING for someone (pay bills, clean their house, feed and clothe them, drive them everywhere, buy them everything they need), I'm awful and they don't have enough, and their life is hell and I need to do more. I'm supposed to have a backbone, while at the same time never defending myself and just lying down and taking random insults and slander thrown at me. I'm not allowed to speak of anything negative, yet I'm also too happy. I'm too demanding for expecting promises made to me to be kept. I'm awful for venting on sites like this to try to let off some damn steam and clear my head, yet no one will provide a listening ear. I just have never been able to bottle it all up for long. It's sad that they think I should. Well, they've all abandoned me now anyway, so why not say all this? Why should I care about their opinion anymore? Why hold back? Everyone's gone. And I'm apparently the biggest damn idiot in the world because apparently everyone who said they were my friend, significant other, or anything was just lying and leading me on for months, or even years in some cases. Well, they were good liars; I can give them that. I believed them. Oh, but they'd also yell at me for thinking poorly of myself. After doing all that to me. I've apparently never been anything other than a disposable backup friend, a chore, a punching bag, or a Saturday night booty call to anyone. But I'm supposed to feel great about myself after learning that...? The funny thing is, I DID feel pretty good about myself before all this went down. It's a shame, really. I was really proud of how far I'd come in life since high school, how I'd overcome all the obstacles thrown at me since. I tried to share my accomplishments with my friends, but no one would even acknowledge them. They'd just come down on me for the things they saw wrong with me. It's only all this drama that's made me feel like real shit. Tonight is the first time in a LONG time I've just broken down and cried my eyes out. I feel like a damn school kid again, hiding in the bathroom so no one sees me just lose my composure. I don't even know what I feel. There's just so much I can't even put a finger on any emotion. I'm just mentally exhausted.

And it's taking a massive toll on my physical health. Which, of course, I get hell for. I have lupus. I got the shitty end of the genetic stick. How the hell is that my fault? I get yelled at for not getting treatment, for even daring to tell anyone I'm sick. Well, I can't afford treatment. Plain and simple. My financial situation is far from ideal. I can't touch the poverty line with a ten foot pole. I'm making bills and rent, but that's it. The job market SUCKS. I'm doing the best I can, but no one believes that. I know full well what treatment is available, how much it's going to run me, and what it will do to me. It honestly would make me even more miserable. There is no bloody cure. They just chuck steroids at you, and when that fails, switch to immunosuppressants. You end up spending more time in the hospital than out. And you eventually die from it anyway, usually pretty quickly. I don't understand why people want me to lie about that. I'd rather know it now than find out when I've only got a week left. And in all of this yelling at me about how I NEED to put myself through these painful, miserable treatments, did a single person ever offer to help? Nope, not one. Wouldn't even offer so much as moral support. I hate hospitals. They scare me. The thought of lying in one for months, people throwing experimental treatments at me like a damn lab rat, being sicker than fuck is not a thought I relish. But the thought of being totally alone during it makes it unbearable. I won't put myself through that. And as I said, lupus has a shitty outlook whatever way you turn it. There is no cure. There are just ways to postpone the inevitable, but eventually, you end up with mass organ failure or contract an infection and die because of the immunosuppressants killing off your immune system. I'm already pretty goddamn sick, and the kidneys are starting to go. If I were going to prolong my suffering for any reason, it had better be a damn good one. The way things are right now, I don't see a point. Everyone thinks that makes me suicidal, but I'm not. I'm not going to kill myself. I don't want to die. I just don't want to needlessly suffer, either. Damn, if I had even one friend, it would be worth it. I know that, because when I did, when things started going alright again, my health skyrocketed. I started eating again, got my energy back, actually was able to be up and about and do things. I accomplished a lot of shit, and actually was liking life. I got my birds, trained them up, worked on art and modeling, and got my own apartment, among other things. I felt great. I wanted to be alive, even if physical pain on my part was necessary. That's nothing compared to how nice it felt just to know that someone out there cared about me. Or...at least I thought they did. Apparently they didn't. Had me fooled, though. I sometimes try to trick myself...force myself to think "oh yeah, I'm sure they don't REALLY hate me. Yeah, I've still got friends. They'll come back!" But it just seems stupid to try to lie to myself like that after all these people make it clear that they don't care one way or the other whether I live or die. Some have gone to the point of saying they hope I do, and soon. I need to just kick all these delusional thoughts that anyone will come back, that anyone is still there. Those thoughts just consume me 24/7 now, I guess as my mind struggles to hold itself together. It works sometimes; sometimes I feel nice for a fleeting moment. Hell, every time the phone rings, I get the crazy thought that maybe it's a friend. I keep thinking, by their erratic behavior, that maybe this is just some issue with them. Maybe they do care? I can't tell. I'm afraid to think of it. But lying won't help. I can't listen to that idiotically hopeful voice in my head this time. I need to just force myself to face the truth: I'm alone.

All I've ever wanted in life is a decent friend. They can say what they want about me, call me wimpy and pathetic, I don't care. That's just part of who I am. It's honestly a big part of what it is to be human. Relationships are crucial to happiness and health. I have no fucking idea what I want to do for a career or any of that. I just want to actually matter to someone. I obviously don't. No one wants anything to do with me. Why should I put myself through painful medical testing and treatment and hell from bill collectors, effectively ruining what little is left of my life, just to cater to the whims of people to whom I'm already dead? Seems pretty pointless to me. And anyway, I have no choice now. This stress is worsening my disease, whether I want it to or not. As unfair as it is, my wellbeing depends on how people decide to treat me. If anyone really cared if I lived, I made it clear that what I needed was a friend. If they can't offer that, then, well...they must not care all that much, eh?

Usually, I'd think there's a lesson to be learned, but...what am I supposed to learn from this? That no matter what I do, it'll never be good enough for anyone? That my purpose in life is to be just the target of someone's rage, a servant, or someone's personal piece of ass? That to have a voice is to be terrible? That it's stupid to believe that anyone is my friend, even if they tell me they are? That I can get away with murder, but to have love for someone is an atrocious crime? That last one really irks me. Hell, I've broken real written laws and gotten away with a slap on the wrist, but those three certain little words bought me a lifetime of hell. I guess I'm such a disgusting person that no one can stand to hear that from me. God damn, not like I chose my feelings. But not to worry, no one believes me when I say it, anyway. I'm just treated like I don't know what I'm talking about, like I don't have the capacity to really care about someone. This really upsets me, since that's the one thing I've always been sure of through all this turmoil. It took a lot of guts to come out about it. And it's one thing to not have the feelings returned. That I can deal with. But to be told I'm can't even have these feelings? Wow, I must be more unbearable than I realize.

So overall...I just feel like the shittiest shit in shitville right now. I wish I didn't have to just randomly rant to dead cyberspace, but I needed to voice this, and there's no one who will be kind and listen anymore. I'm going to go and sleep or something. I really don't feel like being conscious. I sometimes have some really nice dreams. It's a shame I have to wake up some mornings.

Still Breathing
Sekirei
capnspiffy
It's late, I should be going to bed...but I'm not, so deal. I'm pretty sure now that there is no one who still reads this, but if there's even the slightest chance she'll see it, it's worth every second. I may start posting again occasionally, but due to stalker issues, I can't say too much. I would much rather have people talk to me directly (and more importantly, privately), but this will do. We all know this is what I was reduced to before. And she saw it then. I doubt she does anymore. Things are...confusing. That's the only way to really describe it. They're tense and angry, but not in a bitter sort of way. It's not anger with each other. But...she doesn't want to talk, either. Hates herself. Thinks I'm stupid for wanting anything to do with her. But I can't hate her. I see no reason at all to. I don't think I ever can hate her. She's trying so hard to make me angry, but it just makes me sad. I wish she'd just accept my friendship. Really accept it, not just say she does and leave. I understand alone time, but this is purposeful avoidance, to try to hurt me and make me leave. Again, it only makes me sad. I feel bad for her. She could use a good friend. I know I could be that if she'd let me. She wants me to turn my back forever, but I want nothing more than to see her again. I'd like to see her smile, and I'd like to smile again myself. Now we both have to be unhappy. But I'm...okay. I got her to agree to talk to me once in a while, but...I know she's still going to try to push me away. Even though I know deep down she doesn't want to. I hope she wakes up soon. I may not last much longer. Very ill. I don't want to die and leave her all alone.

Summer has come and passed...
Sekirei
capnspiffy
Well, it's winter now, but the metaphorical bright, happy summer of my life is what I speak of. Gonna be a short entry. As much as I'd like to sit here for hours and pour my heart out to my old journal dating back to the dark ages of high school (just for sentiment's sake), it's going on four AM, and I have work tomorrow. So a few words: loss, longing, disappointment, dismality. 'Bout sums it up. Good night (or morning), world. Remember me.

Brave New World
Sekirei
capnspiffy
I figured maybe I'd write a public entry for once. *gasp!* So I had my orientation today for the Liz Claiborne warehouse job...lots of paperwork, and the traditional cheesy safety videos from the fifties. ID picture, which I hope doesn't suck royally. Not much else. I found out that I don't actually start work until the fourteenth, which was slightly disappointing, but at least I have a bit more free time beforehand, I guess. I'll take advantage of the opportunity to indulge in my latest obsession: Zoo Tycoon 2. I downloaded it and all the expansions the other day, and it's incredibly fun and addictive. Nothing else exciting going on, really. The job is the big news of the moment. I actually started online shopping for furniture, lol. I can't wait to have money again. The only problem is, Andrew and I may now be actually making too much to get the apartment we're looking at. :/ And it's our only chance, since anywhere else wants a co-signer. Bleh. We'll find something, I'm sure. May soon be getting Lola (my car) fixed soon, as well. Things finally looking up, maybe?

Later, Gators

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