Reoccurring Connection between Love & Evil

Reoccurring Connection Between Love & Evil

Reoccurring nightmares haunt people like me, for years. Nightmares are bad memories and fear that are stuck in your brain. That's my opinion, I'm not stating that as a fact. When a nightmare repeats itself over and over again, that means it has implanted itself into your brain, and has zero plans to vacate. Again, simply my opinion. To me, that's terrifying, I feel for people who have reoccurring nightmares, because I know how much it hurts. I know how frightening it can be. It's very easy to get frustrated, especially with yourself. I get angry with myself, because I don't know how to get these nightmares out of my head. Let me paint you a picture, a very scary one.

I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, below there is nothing but fire and the voices of people screaming. Somebody always screams "I'm burning for being myself." Every single time, and it makes me cry. In my left ear, somebody whispers "Crying doesn't save you, it only makes you weak." My left ear is ripped off. I can't scream, my mouth has been sewn shut. In my right ear, a whisper...."Everything you are is sin, and that is why you have to stay forever." My right ear is ripped off, and I'm pushed from the cliff into the fire below. I feel myself burning, and the nightmare ends.

My worst enemy could ask me to give them that experience, and I would refuse. I have a few theories about that nightmare, regardless, I wish that it would stop haunting me. The strangest thing about it, is that it connects to a reoccurring dream I have. Let me paint you a much prettier picture.

I'm sitting on a beach at night, surrounded by a circle of people. I don't recognize these people, but it feels like these people are my friends. I see that they are talking, and laughing but I can't hear their voices. I hear guitar music, and the waves. It smells like Fantasia incense, and burning firewood. There are so many stars in the sky, it makes me cry. In my left ear, a loving voice tells me "It's okay to cry, it makes you human." I'm kissed on my left cheek, somebody holds my left hand. In my right ear, I hear, "We love you for you, please stay with us forever." I'm kissed on my right cheek, and my right hand is held. I close my eyes, and that's the end. 

I feel lucky when I have that dream. Most mornings, I cry when I wake up because it makes me sad that I'm still alive. When I have that dream, I don't cry because I'm sad. I cry, because I'm happy. The nightmare came first, and it scares me as much now as it did the first time it happened. I needed it to be a one time occurrence, but of course, it was not. The second time it happened, I knew it was here to stay, and I was devastated. Having that kind of evil in my head makes me feel like a monster. I grew up thinking that my appearance and personality would send me to Hell. I've said it before, this is a place where differences are not welcomed with open arms. Something must have triggered me, because lost memories are coming home. The nightmare started months ago.

The dream started a few weeks ago, and I knew right away where it came from. It's so similar to the nightmare, it wasn't hard for me to figure it out. My brain created a counter world to escape that nightmare. That nightmare scares me so much, that I created it's much nicer cousin, without even knowing it. I didn't go to sleep thinking "I need to push the nightmare away with a better world"....it just happened. They're both so short, the length of a dream or nightmare that fades the very second you open your eyes. These don't fade, they hover than hide until they're ready to come out and play again. The nightmare is a Hell issue obviously. So, anybody could assume that the dream is a Heaven thing. Only, it's not. The nightmare feels like Hell, the dream doesn't feel like Heaven. It just feels like a better place, one that I could be in and not hear the monsters all the time. They're so loud these days, I can barely hear anything else. I drown them out with music as often as I can. There's lyrics to match the dream.

♫"This is happiness, to be everything at once.

Be un-blinded, be unlearned, be unbridled and un-burned." ♫

Those lyrics are from a song called "No Parallels" by Hands like Houses. One of my favorite songs and bands ever. Anyways, the lyrics remind me of the place in my dream. I haven't been able to match lyrics to the nightmare, but I believe that to be a positive thing. 

I have a pretty solid idea of what's coming my way soon. I'm scared, but, it's alright. This world isn't a place that I need to be, there is no help. Not for me. I'm still okay with that. I just hope whoever takes my place, has a purpose. 

Purpose & Villains

When you are the human version of the headache, life can get pretty tedious. Especially when you wake up every morning knowing that that's what you are. When you have little monsters in your head, and they spend every waking minute bullying you, life becomes oppressive. That's morbid, I know but it's what's real. Changing it stopped being  an option a long time ago. People will say things. They do say things.

"You're crazy."

"Stop being so depressed."

"You need help."

It's true, I do need help, however, I am beyond it. I accept that, because I'm trapped inside of my own head. Imagine being punched from the inside of your skull. Not that I would wish that on anybody, I apologize. Explaination isn't really my strong suite anymore. I guess, I really just hate what I'm turning into. Once again, I'm looking to my best friend, Music. I can always rely on that to help me explain.

"As the war between light and darkness continues,

Heroes and villains become harder to identify.

Kindred spirits separated at birth,

Fighting for their place in time to be solidified.

The clock ticks faster and faster,

While time runs a marathon in this Babylon.

But see, the end is only the beginning.

The beginning of the calm before the storm."

That's from a song by B.O.B and it's called "Bombs Away." That part is spoken by Morgan Freeman, and for good reason, his voice sounds like gold in vocal form. Anyways, my favorite part of that whole statement is "Heroes and villains become harder to identify." No, we don't live inside of a comic book, or a movie, but heroes and villains are real. It hard to tell who the good and bad guys are anymore. There are more villains than there are heroes, and that breaks my heart. Not just because they're the bad people, but because things happened to them that made them that way. I think I'm on the verge of becoming one of those people. I don't like it, or accept it, I don't want to hurt anybody, and that's what I'm doing simply by existing. I've said it before, I'll say it again, I would gladly give up my spot for somebody with a purpose.
  
I recently attended my ten year class reunion. Talk about a group of people with purpose. I was dreading it, I struggled with the thought of going, pretty much up until the day before. Now, I talk about bitter-sweetness all the time, I can't help it. It's an aspect of my life that I take very seriously. I love the feeling of being able to acknowledge the best and worst of both worlds. Going to this reunion was probably one of the more major bittersweet moments I've had in a long time. Just, not for the reasons most people would assume. See, I believe that we're apart of a very complicated generation. Things change all of the time, it's a part of life. In my opinion, our generation has dealt with a huge amount of changes. The older we all get, the more changes there are. This is part of why I thought going to this reunion wouldn't be a positive experience. I was scared, and I feel like I was most likely not the only one that was scared. I was an outcast growing up, I still am to this day. So, my preconception of the whole event, was that I'd be standing alone in a corner. 

I was wrong.

I'm wrong more often than not, I'll admit that, no problem. From the minute I walked through the door, everything was alright. As a person that deals with severe anxiety, I expected to freak out from the very beginning. I didn't, I was able to be social because people were being social with me, and there was alcohol around. I made the mistake of underestimating everybody, and I apologize for that. It was so beautiful seeing everybody, even the people that I didn't really interact with. I'm actually really proud to be able to say that I was part of a class full of people doing great things with their lives. Nobody had to pull a "Romy and Michelle" people are successful, hard working, and productive. That makes me happy, but it also proves my point. I listen to people talk about there careers, spouses and adventures. In the back of mind, all I can think about is the fact that I'm an utterly useless human being. I didn't deserve to be at that reunion. It's the same kind of feeling when I'm at birthday parties for kids. I'm not always the only person without any kids at those parties, but I might as well be. People often get confused when I tell them that I feel like I don't have a family. I get the confusion but I have a hard enough time understanding the situation myself. I won't dare try to paint a picture, the colors would run together. 

There's been so much in my life that I love. Beautiful people and beautiful things, that always make me smile. With beauty comes ugliness. Ugliness brings pain, and suffering. Pain brings demons that sit inside of your head and terrorize you. In my eyes, that's part of what makes a villain a villain.

I will not be a villain.

Bittersweet Little Gifts & The Desire To Leave This World

Being hugged by somebody who actually thinks you're worth something, is pure magic. Especially when you know that you're not worth anything. I have to admit, knowing that I'm an utterly useless human being is bittersweet. Bitter, because I seem to be in the way a lot. More often than not, I'm taking up space, or holding somebody back. I don't have the right to do that, especially not to people who have actual purpose. The sweet part is, when I'm not here anymore, it frees up a spot for somebody better. Somebody that is actually worth something. That makes me feel pretty elated. For the longest time now, I've felt that my existence is unfair. Not to me, but to other people. It's my belief that I was never supposed to be here. Some people disagree with that, but it's what I think, and it's how I feel. I get genuinely confused when I wake up in the morning, it just hurts my feelings now. Not all lives are a joke, I respect people's sense of resolve. I think my life is a joke though, and the punchline just never comes. When it does, I don't know if I'll laugh or cry, maybe I'll do both. Maybe my reaction will be painfully neutral. I have a few different horrifying reoccurring nightmares. Dreams as well, but more nightmares than dreams. Waking up every morning feels like one of those. I know what some people say.

"Life is a gift, and should be appreciated."

I don't entirely disagree with that, but I just don't believe that my life is a gift. I wish I did, but it just doesn't feel that way to me. I believe certain parts of my life are gifts. Like, fireworks. They turn me into goo. I remember, I used to think that after fireworks went off....they turned into the stars. I wish that I still believed that. Naivety saves my heart, I wish I was still naive to lot of things. Fireworks are tiny exploding miracles, and even though they don't turn into the stars, they're still a gift. On the other hand, my life as a whole is not. This world, where we all exist, is filling with Evil. Pure evil and poison.  There's starving people everywhere, but somebody's pissed off that my skin is the color a milk chocolate. People are getting away with disgusting things like, abuse, rape and murder. Yet, people are pissed off because a man wants to kiss another man, or a woman wants to marry another woman. There seems to be terrorists everywhere. What is it about humans that makes other humans want to terrorize them? I don't understand it, and I'm not really sure that I want to understand it. Hatred is fueling everybody now. It's like the majority of people in this world forgot how to love. Treating people nicely, and with respect has somehow become turned into something else. People make it seem like it's the wrong thing to do. That's super sad, it breaks my heart. Everybody is stressed, and taking it out on each other. People are so enthralled with social media that they forget about actual communication. It's all so frustrating, and being trapped within this chaos is only doing more damage to my very fragile existence. There's so much more about this world that breaks my heart, but I don't have to name every single little thing. I trust that some people see the same evil that I do. 

I honestly just wish that people could or would pay more attention to the good things. There are beaches covered with pink sand. There are beaches covered in black sand. Can you imagine how amazing it would be to see that? I know it would bring me so much peace. If I had the chance to lay on a beach with sand those colors, I could die with the biggest smile on my face. I would burn Fiesta Lime incense and play music by Tom Day. I could get lost in that forever. That's just me, I know that, but it's a picture I've painted inside of my mind. I wished more people did that, and if they do, I hope they share it with me. I'd like to know about pictures people paint in their minds. Even if that's just a far off dream, it's one of the good things I think about all the time. Even knowing that it will never happen, the thought is enough to make me smile for a few minutes on my worst day. I get so worried about people in my life. People that I know are worth so much, but are sad. I used to be able to make people happy. Being a good friend means so much to me, but I no longer have the ability to make people feel better. I can't make people happy anymore. My issues are in the way, my head is broken, my thoughts are dark and scary, and my spirit is dying. My spirit is sick, and suffering, and has been for the longest time. There's this song called "Little Black Cloud" by Crazy Town. That's the same band that had the one hit wonder, "Butterfly." The chorus was simple, bu the lyrics always appealed to me.

♫"I got a little black cloud that follows me, everywhere I go, it takes over me."♫

That song came out in 1999, and I still listen to it to this day. There are times when I feel like I have that cloud over me. Other times, I feel like I am that cloud. People always say things like "You're in control of your own happiness." Fine. If that's what your opinion is, than fine. Only, that isn't always true. People with mental health problems don't always have the option of being in control. We have demons, and they tell us how to feel, they tell us how to think. They control our actions, our words, and our thoughts. I don't think that people understand that those demons, they make their existence known every day. They don't just talk to us, they yell, they scream and they rampage. They're little monsters with more power than you'd think. So, no. I don't believe everybody has control over their happiness. Yes, you can cut people and certain  unhappiness from your own life, you can try your hardest to protect yourself. Only, the consequences always seem to be bad. If you cut a person from your life, you're a "bad friend." You're the "enemy", and "how dare you." I've been cut from many people's lives, but I understand why, and I don't blame people for it. But, not everybody does understand. It hurts to be cut out, it does. It's a hurtful part of life that some people just don't get over. To me, that's part of "being in control of your happiness" but it's so negative. It doesn't seem like it should be apart of happiness. Maybe that only makes sense to me. It might, because I struggle to put my words together most of the time. If only people knew how long it takes me to write just one entry for this blog. 

♫"Used to play pretend, used to play pretend, money.

We used to play pretend, wake up you need the money.

Used to play pretend, give each other different names, we would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away.

Used to dream of outer space, but now they're laughing at our face saying "wake up, you need to make money", yeah."♫

I love Twenty-One Pilots. Their music brings me so much peace, the lyrics are perfect. They say it just how it is. One day, you wake up, and you need to make money. Only it's not that simple. I'm an artist, and that doesn't always promise money. So, you go and try to find a job to save money for things that you're passionate about. Only, you have a last name that intimidates people. You look a certain way, and it puts people off. So you spend years trying to get a "normal" job, yet nobody will give you a chance based on these petty little things. People say "You can't give up, just keep trying." That's not a bad thing, but some of us reach a certain point. You get to this point where, you cannot take anymore rejection. Hearing that you're not good enough gets old after a while. You start to believe it, and then trying just becomes pointless. The constant rejection gets painful. You might as well stand in front of a person and say "You suck, we don't want you, and you aren't good enough" over and over and over again. It's like being punched in the throat repeatedly. They don't understand what they're doing to you. They don't understand, and most of the time they don't care. People in this world who hold positions of power, usually abuse that power. Those of us who are never given a chance, because it's already decided that we will fail, that pretty much means that we're screwed. I'd rather go back and play pretend. 

♫Sometimes a certain smell will take me back to when I was young.

How come I'm never able to identify where it's coming from.

I'd make a candle out of it if I ever found it.♫

Those lyrics are from the same song. I should mention, the song is called "Stressed Out." Even the damn title is perfect! This song is everything to me. I know you know what they're talking about. You're minding your own business, a smell hits you, and suddenly you are six years old again. It makes you smile for a minute, but you cannot figure out what it is. It's another one of those bittersweet little moments. I count that as a gift in life. 

Even with all the little gifts like, music, amazing smells, and thought of brightly colored beaches, I'm just so tired. I want the little things to be enough, I do. They aren't, and at this point I feel like no matter what I do, it will end with me in tears, and the world once again be laughing at me. I don't feel like anybody wants me around. People can tell me until they're purple faced that they do. My monsters won't let me believe them. People do tell me I'm not wanted, and they make me feel unsafe. They know that I feel scared, I won't let the world know that they're bullies. I like people too fast, I love and care about people too fast. Too much. So much, that it makes me seem creepy and weird. That's what being friendly is these days. It makes you a weirdo. Being loving is considered a bad thing. Being sensitive and crying a lot makes you weak. That's what I see, and I just don't want to see it anymore. All I hear is hatred, and pain. Not just my own, but other people's and it hurts me. My head is a scary place to be, and there isn't anything I can do to fix it. Some people are beyond help, some people can't be helped. The world's solution to "fixing" people like me, is drugging you up, and strapping you down. To me, it's cruel and unusual. To strap a person down who just wants to escape in the first place. It seems like being kicked while you're down. I understand why it's done that way, but I don't like it. I just want to step aside, I wish I could give my life to somebody else. Somebody that would do something useful with the time. Like, seriously, take my life, do something better than I will ever be able to do. I have faith you. 

The next time you see somebody that you think is worth something, hug them as if their life depends on it. 

Socially Acceptable Disease

♫ Disease by: Hollywood Undead ♫

Society today is blows my mind, and breaks my heart at the same time. At least, in my eyes, it seems to be more than some people are able to handle. Some of the behavior that I see from people that's become socially acceptable in this time, makes me feel like breaking down and crying tears of pure sadness for the world that we live in. It effects me that much. I'm sure if I was a stronger person, it wouldn't hit me so hard, but strength isn't really part of who I am anymore. I honestly don't even know who I am anymore.

Strength is a very tricky thing. It's a little funny to me, because it seems like most people only see it as a physical thing. It's so much more than that though. Strength is part of a persons mentality as well. If you lack it, you're considered to be "too sensitive" and that kills me. It's true, we're all human beings, but each of us is different in our own way. Some of us aren't as strong as others appear to be. Some of us believe that it's easier to bleed our problems out, than to talk about them. Some of us aren't capable enough to live like others. Some of us see beauty in things that most people don't. Even if that beauty is in death. Even if that beauty lays within something that most people view as ugly, or too different for their taste. Everybody is entitled to their own opinion. Everybody is entitled to feel how they want to feel. Only, these days, through my eyes, most people are taking the negative side. Difference is "bad" and "normal" is good. Only, the "normal" part is what makes me want to go to sleep, and never wake up. It's socially acceptable to hate difference. Even things that are out of anybody's control. People aren't accepted to be themselves, they can't be themselves without being criticized or judged. That isn't something that I'm able to deal with easily, it makes me sad. It upsets me since I am one of those people, and because I know others that live with that. Every single day. I just think living in a world like this is such a waste. It has it's perks. Beautiful things to see, and amazing music to hear. It used to be enough to keep me safe, but not so much anymore. Nobody is safe anymore. 

I wouldn't raise kids in this world, I absolutely would not. Here's one reason why, and also  something that frustrates me like nothing else. 

"Having balls" supposedly means that you're tough, and the word "pussy"somehow equals weakness. Yet, a slight flick to a man's balls puts him on the ground in the fetal position. Whole human beings come out of vaginas, but having one somehow qualifies as being weak. Yay people and society! I say that with every ounce of sarcasm in my body. I'm sorry, I really am, but that is nonsense to me. Fighting it seems right, but it won't change. Yes, the world has evolved and progressed, but nothing can save some of us. I wake up everyday, wishing that I hadn't. I am in constant pain, physically and mentally. Not that most people would know, I have a mask on most of the time. I'm starting to understand how people in my life really feel about me, and how me being around effects people. Ultimately, I don't really think that I should be in anybody's life. That's not me insulting people and saying that nobody's good enough for me. I'm saying that I'm not good for anybody. I feel like the biggest piece of trash on the planet. It's painful, but probably not as painful as having to put up with me. I love my friends, the real ones and even not so real ones. After years of being naive to people's attitudes towards me, I'm finally starting to see how people really feel. It's not something that I can really deal with. Spending so much time inside of your own head, it does this sometimes. It kind of opens up little rivers inside of your head, only instead of water flowing around, it's everything negative that you're dealing with. It's people's hateful words, it's mistakes you've made, the what if questions. You question every decision you've ever made, and end up wanting to punish yourself for the bad decisions. At least that's what happens with me. Inside of my head is a scary place, and I am very thankful that nobody else has to be there but me. I give people so much credit to people who actually have the strength to survive life. Unfortunately, I'm just not one of those people.

West Coast Bound then Broken

West Coast Bound & Broken

Thoughts throughout my recent vacation to California. 

April 28, 2015, 1:10 AM -

♫ - "No Parallels" by: Hands Like Houses

The train literally just pulled out of the station, and I already feel less stressed out and crazy. I'm almost crying tears of pure joy at the thought of getting away. I'm a walking emotional ball of feelings in general, so I'll probably end up crying eventually. That doesn't matter, I'm going to a place that brings out genuine happiness from within me. I can remove the mask, and smile for real. There are some people in my life that would be blown away by the difference in my behavior when I'm away from Western New York. People don't believe me, but the West Coast makes everything better in my eyes. This is part of the reason why I believe that environment makes all the difference in the world. Not for everybody, but we're all different in our own way. Even when there's a person that's grown up and lived in the same area for most of their life, and moved.

Multiple times. 

At this point, I wouldn't care if I didn't get to stay west coast, the train ride is so peaceful for me, and I love it. I could go all the way there and get right back on the train and feel rejuvenated. I'm not stuck in a place that makes me feel broken, and I'm not up in a giant flying coffin thousands of feet in the air. I'm on a tiny vacation that moves, and I feel better than I have in a very long time. I can't wait to wake up, and be somewhere else. I would say somewhere new, but I've been on this adventure before. Either way, I hope I can wake up and smile. Like an actual, genuine smile, not the fake one I use on a daily basis to make others less uncomfortable. 

April 30th, 2015, 8:10 AM -

♫ - "The Edge of Tonight" by: All Time Low

It's a bittersweet thing that I am actually in LA right now. Bitter because plans fell apart during the ride here, plans that meant a lot to me. It's become clear that certain people in my life, on this coast, mean more to me than I mean to them. That's part of my life, and it defines my friendships with most people. I can't lie, it always and forever will hurt my feelings. However, it doesn't hurt any less when I figure that out about another friend. The sweet part is I'm here, and I'm looking at Palm trees. Getting off of the train was slightly discomforting. It was time, that's for sure, but I don't think I was entirely ready. Not because I wasn't ready to be here, but because I sincerely love being on the train. It makes me feel oddly free, it's almost euphoric. As for actually physically being on this coast, it's absolutely freaking perfect. I can breathe, I can think straight, I am home. I don't feel anxious, I don't feel shaky, or like I need a drink. I'm where I belong. It's temporary. Painfully temporary but, I won't think about that now. 

May 4th, 2015, 6:34 PM -

♫ - "Jesus Christ" by: Brand New

I feel sick. My trip is ending so much earlier than it was supposed to. I understand that's how it happens to be, there isn't anything I can do about it. However, I strongly dislike it. Every single one of my demons were out of my head this whole time. It feels like the further away from Western New York I went, more and more of those demons jumped out along the way. Now that I'm going back, city by city, they'll jump back. By the time I reach the dreaded final destination, the little monsters will be screaming. Filling my head with everything that makes me wish that I was never born. I'm genuinely sorry if that's "dramatic" sounding, or depressing. It's how I feel, but most people don't take others feelings into account. I'm not just talking about my feelings alone, I mean people's feelings in general. I see it more and more these days. More often than not, I see and  hear of people's feelings being disregarded, chewed up, and pushed away.

Forgotten.

Ripped apart.

Judged unfairly and criticized.

There are people that tell me the negative things that others say about me. The most popular has been that I'm  too depressing to be around. I've heard that a lot, and it's hard. I totally understand why that opinion of me that exists. The hardest part of that is that it's somewhat true. I suffer with depression, that means I'll be depressed at times. I suffer from severe anxiety, that means I'm anxious, both mentally and physically. I have post traumatic stress, that means so many different things. My health, mentally and physically continues to get worse. It seems my mask doesn't cover as much as I thought it did. It would be mostly wishful thinking if I thought I could make the mask bigger and stronger before I get back. 

May 10th, 2015, 5:12 AM - 

♫ - "Car Radio" by: twenty one pilots

I had a weird....episode in my sleep a couple nights ago. I say episode, because I'm not sure if it was a dream or a nightmare. It was so damn bittersweet, that it's mildly frustrating even now. 

I was sitting in an empty bathtub, fully clothed. One of those really deep tubs, and it was placed in he middle of a forest that was nothing but trees with pink flower petals. I was in love with what I was seeing, it was beautiful. I could hear wind, birds chirping, and the air even smelled sweet. Suddenly, I was being pulled backwards, under water, that wasn't there literally a second before. Somebody is holding my shoulders down. I didn't struggle, I didn't want to make the process any longer. I get this weird feeling of euphoria, and just as I think it's almost over, I'm pulled up. Only, the environment is different. Everything is just gray. A dark gray color. Like nothingness. Gray and quiet nothingness, for miles and beyond that. The silence was deafening, and I felt colorblind. I tried going under the water, but it was gone just as quick as it had appeared. The tub was empty again, and I was alone in the middle nothing. 

It could have meant a few different things. It might not have meant anything at all. My best guess is that it has a lot to do with me being back here again. Environment can effect us so much more than people believe. This place sucks the life right out of me. I'm happy that it doesn't happen to other people. Friends that like it here. Even people I'm not friends with, I wouldn't wish feeling this way on my worst enemy. 

Feeling alone, even when you're with people. 

Having a constant thought in the back of your mind telling you that you're better off dead, or never having been born. 

Feeling like your mere existence bothers every single person that you ever have contact with.  

The constant need to hurt yourself, for ether control, or punishment. 

The moment I stepped foot off of the train, it all came flooding back. I know it sounds impossible, but it was physically painful. It was like waking into a brick wall. In two weeks, I went from being an utterly useless human being, to feeling like my life had a purpose, and back again. I just wish that there was a way for me to feel like "West Coast Me" while I was here. I've tried, I have but it just doesn't work. Sometimes, life can be like going to be movies. All the good parts, were in the trailer. It's weird, today I am exactly twenty eight years, and five months old. I feel just as dead on the inside as I did when I turned twenty eight. Hopefully, someday, California will revive me again. 

Bittersweet Bitterness For The New Year

It's weird that it's 2015, it doesn't seem real to me. I kind of wish it wasn't. I didn't think I would make it until 2015, I didn't want to either. 

The path my thoughts have taken, lead them to a very unnerving, alluring place. I'm not really sure what to call it, but I sincerely hope nobody else has a place like this lingering inside of their heads. It's toxic, evil, and addictive. Beautiful too, and that's what's so confusing, I can't talk about it without saying good things. 

Let me see if I can paint the picture a little better. Imagine being terrified of the dark, and being trapped in very dark woods. Only, your favorite music is playing, or it smells absolutely amazing, and you're warm and cozy. You can see a light in the distance, and you know you can get there. Only, with that light comes some of the worst things you've ever had to deal with in your life. Things that destroy you, things that you should probably try your very hardest to avoid. That may not be clear to most people, but it's the best way I'm able to describe it right now. Inside of my head, is a major cluster fuck, so when I do attempt to explain things, I don't blame people for loosing interest. Or, looking at me like I should never open my mouth again.

I was honestly under the impression that my thoughts, and demons would kill me before the new year. I was, and I didn't care. When you wake up every morning, and get upset because you woke up at all, to me, that means life is hurting you. Life requires strength in the same way that pain demands to be felt. I'm not a strong person. I think that I might have been a long time ago, but I'm broken now. I am a broken person, and it's not even a secret anymore. Everybody knows, and it's not really important at this point. I try my hardest to just smile my way though things, because my anxiety, depression, and other issues just make people uncomfortable. Which makes me uncomfortable, so it's just a vicious circle of unnecessary discomfort. Sometimes, it comes out, and I cry in public because my anxiety gets out of control. I really wish that never happened, because I know it annoys everybody. It's not healthy to keep it inside, I know that. It's part of why I'm so messed up in the first place. That's what happens when certain people have a toxic bubble of mental illness growing inside. It gets bigger and bigger until it explodes. After, it just starts filling back up again. With the old things, and new things. It's no way to live, at least not for me. That's why the new year is weighing on me the way it is, because I really didn't count on making it this far. 

I feel so bad for people that have to deal with anxiety, and depression. Especially people who are surrounded by others telling them that the illness they suffer from isn't real. It upsets me so much when people dumb mental illness down to the point where they might as well just say that it's not real. People do just straight out say that it's not real, I've heard it. I've talked about this before, and I'll always get defensive about it,for as long as I'm alive. Mainly because I'm tired of seeing other people that suffer from the same things that I do, get told that they need to cheer up and stop being so sad. Depression is not just sadness, and anxiety is not just indecision. So, no, telling an anxious person to "calm down" isn't going to fix them. In fact, saying that may only make it worse. Hearing those words, when you're having an attack puts a lot of pressure on, and it sucks. It's almost like you're expected to just press a button and shut it off. So, when you have pressure of that thought thrown at you when you're already having an internal nervous break down, it's absolutely devastating. That's like sticking your hand in a fire, and expecting it not to hurt. 

I'm trapped in a place where I don't belong. It's where I grew up, but I never really belonged. I'm what I like to call a "Walking Black Joke". There isn't very much diversity here. So, for as long as I can remember, I've just been labeled as "The Black One".....and it never used to bother me. I didn't know anything different, I didn't really understand. Now more than ever, I understand, and I wish that I would have just stayed naive. I realize now that, that's all there is to me around here. I let people say the things they say, and I play along with it. The truth is, if I didn't, most people would just stop talking to me. I have enough problems in my life that make people want to keep their distance from me. I don't want to add something else to the list. I grew up in a white community, a very small one. Not that I think anybody will really understand this, but....I'm not accepted by other African American people, because of how I grew up. On top of that, I'm not accepted by Caucasian people, because of the color of my skin. I'm not accepted by a lot of people in general, because of my lifestyle, and personality. It's a Hell that I hope nobody else has to be trapped in. So, that brings one question to the surface. 

Where will I ever be accepted? 

Nowhere. 

That hurts me, but I know it's the truth. I'm not taken at all seriously by most people, which is whatever at this point. So being a walking joke, it's really not that big a deal right now. It is part of what makes my anxiety and depression so bad, but it is what it is. It's too late to change it. I'm not saying that's the main reason I have the problems that I do, because there's just no way that's the case. It was childhood, it was growing up, it was a lot of things, and it was a mess. There's this quote I know, I honestly have no idea where it's from, but I like it. 

"Childhood is like being drunk. Everyone remembers what you did, except you."

It's perfect. I couldn't have worded it any better if I tried. I'm sure that applies to so many different people. Honestly, I think it's a very bittersweet statement. A very true, very clear fact, that may or may not be relevant to how people feel. In my opinion, it's on point. Being back where I grew up, it's just a huge mistake, but there really isn't anything I can do about it. Some might argue that for many reasons, one being that since I keep ending up back here, mean that I do belong somewhere. I don't agree with that. I understand why people would have that opinion, I do. Only, that's really not the case. It's not just me, I'm not the only one that feels trapped by this place. I can see it in other's people's eyes. I can see that they wish they had left, and had a different life. I can see the pain they're in, I can see how angry they are at themselves for getting stuck. I really feel for those people, because I know how much it hurts. I know that it's not easy to have passion in your heart directed towards things that aren't possible in a place like this. It's not comfortable, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. 

Now I'm a year older, and it just makes me sick. Happy 28th Birthday, I am dead on the inside.

Hear No Evil, See No Evil.

When Robin Williams left us, people kept on saying something along the lines of....

"Maybe people will pay attention now."

To me, that statement is somewhat bittersweet. Unfortunately, in this situation, my belief is that the bitter part over powers the sweet part. This is just one of many things that frustrates me about humanity, and society. Most of the time, it takes illness or something like death for people to open their eyes to certain things. Drastic measures make for drastic reactions. One emotion in particular brings others to the surface.

Fear.

It brings untouched emotions to the surface in a very quick and aggressive manner. It effects us all, yes, but in different ways. Those who don't suffer from mental illness, people who don't deal with the evils that are depression and anxiety, they have fear, but it's not the same. Their fear is subtle yet aggressive at the same time. When a person that doesn't suffer from any illness like those particular ones learns that somebody has taken their own life, it makes zero sense to them. So, there they sit, trying to justify it in a way that makes them comfortable with the random thoughts running through their mind.

"They should have gotten help."

"They should have gotten over it."

"It was a cop out, they were cowards."

"There's no way it was that bad."

"They were selfish."

NO. 

I can't help but get very upset when people make statements like that. I believe everybody is entitled to they're own opinion, we are all free to have our own beliefs. To each their own, it's a personal right. However, in my opinion, and in my experience....people who make statements like that have no idea what it's like to have severe mental illness.  Their demons are either nonexistent or quieter. Now, I'm not saying that I wish that everybody suffered from problems like that. I guess I just have very little to zero faith in most people when it comes to sensitivity and understanding. After years of having so many different problems, it's become very clear to me that most people aren't tolerant of things like anxiety and depression. They aren't patient with you, or the fact that you have those issues and it makes things harder for you. Or the fact that if you're anxious or depressed, it makes things of the most simple nature harder. They know, but they don't care, or they don't have the solution, so they pretend like it's not there. Some people will even go so far as to pretend that you aren't there. That sounds completely made up, I know, but I've seen it happen. People really can go that far, and they will.

I think that death is a trend at times, and it's very sad. When Phillip Seymour died, and people learned about his demons and drug addiction, they made statements that matched the statements about Robin Williams. Same with when people heard about Cory Monteith. 

"I had no idea. Oh my God, maybe more people will pay attention now."

Only, that didn't happen. Not with Phillip Seymour, Robin or Cory. Two days after Robin Williams was gone, people were promptly back to dumping ice water on their heads, and going on judgmental rants in their social network statuses. That's what I'm talking about when I say that death is a trend. People mourn, and move on, and that's totally acceptable. Only, I think it's unfortunate how people are so quick to make those kinds of statements, when they have zero intention of being more aware.

Over the years I've seen people take some very drastic measures to avoid helping others. Especially people who can't just openly admit that they don't want to help, or don't know how to help. For some, it's about effort, or having patience. Or, just not knowing what to do. For others, it's denial. They don't believe that depression or anxiety are real. For others, it's about religion. Suicide is supposed to condemn you to Hell, so you're considered to be evil before you're even dead. If a person knows you're suicidal, sometimes they will choose not to see or hear you for those reasons. I've also learned that those of us who are addicted to self harm are looked at as selfish, because we're hurting one of God's creations. Personally, I don't agree with some of that, but not I'm criticizing those who do. I'm simply pointing out some things I've noticed about people who are on the sidelines of the cruel game that is mental illness. Out of sight, out of mind. Only, not for people like me. The demons linger in our minds like cobwebs. 

"Please come back, but don't come near me."

I'm not really sure if that's a quote, or lyrics from a song, or what. I just like the words, and I found them on accident. I relate to those words, but I think they kind of tie into what I've been saying. People who chose to get angry at depressed, suicidal people, they tend to have that kind of attitude towards it. In a way, it's like they're saying....

"I don't want anything to do with you, but I want you alive."

Again, this is my opinion, I'm not claiming these things to be facts. It's just how I see it through my eyes. Now, I think a person has every right to feel that way. Hell, I'm guilty of it in a way. There's people I love, but can't handle being around. It's just one of those very suckish, very devastating feelings that some deal with from time to time. It's irrational, but there's nothing we can do about it. We're only human after all, you know? 

(Photographic Dramatization) 

Some of us have been marked for extinction since day one. Only....those marks, they can't be seen right from the beginning. As you grow, and get older, you learn, stuff happens. You learn about things. Beautiful things, happy things, sad and horrible things. You learn about yourself, and other people. You learn about how much, not just actions hurt, but words too. Soon, those actions, those words, and the hatred behind them, they turn into something else. There's a point that's reached, one that not everybody will always get to. It's the point where you realize that hurting them back doesn't bring peace. That's when the invisible mark transforms. The mark, it turns into a scar. After that, the scars....they multiply. I'm not the type of person that can just let go of the hateful things that people say to me. I wish I was, but I'm not. I'm just not that strong, and I admire people who are that strong. With me, it's like that whole demonstration with a sheet of paper. 

The paper, it starts of clean and unharmed.

 After it's crumpled up into a ball, and unfolded, it' damaged beyond repair. It will never be the same, no matter what.

(Photographic Dramatization) 

It can only get worse from that point.

(Photographic Dramatization) 

Worse and worse, until there's nothing left but wrinkles and mess.

(Photographic Dramatization) 

It's a shame that some of us are really that fragile, for many reasons, it's a shame.

One thing I've learned, is that sometimes, people just don't want to help you. It could be that, they are just that kind of person, or it could be that you're the kind of person that people don't want to help. Regardless, life goes on in one way or another. Me, I'm tired of life in general. I have been for a very long time, it's just how it is. Just recently, I was in a situation that was very frustrating. It was a level of frustration that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. It was almost like sitting in the waiting room outside of Hell. I was trying to make things better for myself, and it just fell apart so fast. I'm pretty sure I lost a very close friend, and it will break my heart forever. That friend, along with another one, they said things to me that really hit me. Like a brick wall. Basically, I learned the perception these people have of me. It wasn't eye opening in the way you'd think either. See, they made assumptions about me, and based their opinions on those assumptions. It hurt a lot, and it made me hate myself even more than I already did. The fact that I had somehow made these people jump to the conclusions that they did, it killed me. The fact that me needing their help was just burden, and that I thought they were alright with me needing their help. Those are things that eat my emotions alive. During that time, I was lucky enough to have another friend, and a new friend....give me hope, and shine some light on certain aspects of my life. 

The best way I can describe these two people is.....fireworks. They are just like fireworks. Their personalities explode, and go all over the place in the most beautiful way possible. They're colorful, and able to take your mind away from all the bad things for a little while. Instead of telling me everything that was wrong with me, they made me see what could be. They pointed out the good things, and had me concentrate on those good things. Their faith made me believe for a little while. Their attitudes towards me weren't negative or threatening. They didn't make me feel stupid for thinking the things that I do. Instead of yelling at me, and talking to me in a way that triggered my anxiety, they were patient, they were loving, they were kind. They recognized my pain, and dealt with it in the most perfect way. I'm thankful for all of my friends. Even the friends that are no longer a part of my life. Maybe I'm mean for saying this, and I don't mean to be.....but there are just some friends that understand me better. People that understand that anger, aggression, and and negativity are not things that I respond well to. My own family hasn't been able to figure that out in the last twenty seven years, so I'm not in shock when I see that other people don't get it either. Only, when certain people understand that about me right away, it makes me smile. It makes everything better for a little while. It makes me forget that I am a walking mistake, and that I never should have been born to begin with. It makes me forget that being in pain is a burden to most, even those who are closest to my heart. It makes me forget about the demons that are constantly whispering in my ear.  When people treat me like a person, it just makes me forget. 

I'm not angry. I'm not bitter. I'm just noticing things. One thing I've noticed a lot lately, and that the mentally ill are not tolerated by most. So, the next time a person takes their own life, hurts themselves, or lashes out in a way that you don't understand......don't pretend to care. Don't make assumptions, because assumptions are judgement's angry cousins. Don't think twice, think three times.

There's plenty of reasons why people let Death win. Try not to let your attitude, words and actions be any of those reasons.

Anxiety 101

Anxiety is like that mini heart attack you get when you slip on ice. Only, it lasts for a lot longer. Sometimes, it’s consistent, and stays with you for hours. Even days.  Anxiety is a cruel monster. A hybrid of your high school bully, and the ghosts of every insecurity of memories passed. A reminder of your memories from the past, whispering in your ear about things that you shouldn‘t have to think about anymore. It’s almost like having a song stuck in your head, only, the lyrics are repetitive on a disturbing level, and the voices can’t sing well. 

I’ve always been a strong believer that the ‘what if’ questions are a killer. I probably always will be, but I’m also a huge hypocrite. I ask those questions more often than not, and I’m ashamed. Those questions invade my thoughts on a daily basis, and trust me, I wish that I could help that, but I can’t. It always shocks me, how some people think that Anxiety is just something that you can turn off. It’s a real illness, I promise. One that makes itself comfortable inside of your brain. Like a house guest that won’t leave. It sits in the back of your head, forcing you to think about things that most people don’t. Mostly, those ‘what if’ questions, and irrational fears. Like, one of my irrational fears keeps me from ice skating. I’m afraid that if I fall, somebody will skate over my hands, and cut my fingers off. Yes, I’m totally aware of that would most likely never happen, but I haven’t ice skated since I was about ten years old. Another one is, that I’ll swallow a quarter the flat way, and it will cut off my air. It’s so ridiculous, because I would never put a quarter in my mouth. Why would I need to? I know that, yet I still have that fear. See, and it all because, one of my sweet little demons, went to a forbidden spot in my brain, and pushed my panic button. The good news is, I’m aware that those fears don’t make much sense. Also, I’d rather skate on a board than the ice, and snacking on currency isn’t my thing. 

When you have this problem, mixed with some others, being alive becomes a challenge. It takes everything out of place. Like, the past is in present, the present isn’t really happening, and the future isn’t there. It’s not easy to function with that. It effects everything you do, say, or think about. People you spend time around will eventually stop giving you the time of day. Mainly because,  they can’t handle your crazy. Which is understandable I guess, some people just can’t handle things. Only, when it angers people, that’s when I can’t help but wish I had a giant turtle shell to hide in. I say sorry for a lot of things, on a daily basis. It’s a coping thing. So when people yell at me for that, or yell at me in general, I shut down. Tough love isn’t useful in my mind. More often than not, reassurance that I’m fine is pretty effective. I don’t know if that’s just me, but I feel like others with the same issues probably feel the same way.  

When I was out the other night, I wanted to crawl out of my skin for a little while. It was on and off the entire time I was out. Only, lucky for me and my nerves, I was with people that made me comfortable. When that’s the case, being in public doesn’t hurt so much. Being alive doesn’t feel so wrong. 

I don’t know, I’m ending this on a weird spot, because go figure….I’m anxious.

Just a small town girl, living inside of her head.

If only rooms with padded walls looked like dreams. It wouldn't be so bad, right? I've heard depression described as drowning, but never dying. That makes more sense to me than it should, it's so accurate. I've always liked to swim, so it seems like I wouldn't mind being suspended in a body of water, for a long period of time. However, I have to admit, twenty some odd years is a long time to be swimming. I know, it's not really water. Instead of my lungs filling with water, it's doubt, shame, anxiety and last but not least, all my lovely little demons. The angry little monsters that reside inside of my head, reminding me on a daily basis that life doesn't need me. It feels like they're dancing on my cerebrum, and oh my God, I don't think I have ever once used that word before. Anyways, if I'm right, that's the part of the brain that controls memory. 

My memories come and go pretty frequently, it's very frustrating. When lost memories come back, it's aggressive. Like being punched in the brain with a fist full of fuck you. Excuse my language, but that's what it feels like. It's all part of the emotional roller coaster that is post traumatic stress. Incase you're wondering, there's no height requirement for this ride, and you will vomit. 
Every day is worse than the last. It's not the company I keep, because I'm not anywhere near the people that chewed me up and spit me out. It's not my environment, I'm not in the wonderful world of Western New York anymore. Don't take that seriously, because I took the word wonderful, and dipped it in a huge glass of sarcasm. I guess I'm just done. The things I was good at, the things that used to save me from myself, they're a thing of the past now. My camera used to be my best friend, but I am no longer able to do any favors for the art of photography.  

Writing was always a good outlet. Obviously, it still can be at times. I have this blog. Sadly, it's all that remains. Song lyrics, poems, screenplays, I stopped all of it. It felt like I was ruining something. It was the same feeling with my acting, and my music. I actually think I remember when I decided to kill my music. I was in the middle of writing lyrics, and they mentioned something about playing my veins like violin strings, with a razor blade. Super morbid, I know. I wouldn't recommend having a self harm addiction to my worst enemy. It's like having your demons on the outside. Anyways, I remember looking at those words, and wanting to cry. I probably did, because it had nothing to do with the rest of the song. It was just a random damn thought that I had, and it was scary. So yes, I'm a coward and I ran away from my own music. 

I'm an artistic disaster for sure, I've claimed that proudly for a long time. Only, you can be an artist and suck really badly at it. Turns out my photos are super generic, and my writing is that of a twelve year olds. Luckily, the person that pointed that out hates my blog. Their eyes are saved from this entry, yay! I didn't plan on updating, but I needed something to do. I am antsy, I can't sleep, and the demons are having a dance party in my head. Their music must have lots of bass, because my head hurts so bad, that I can't see straight. That's my cue I suppose.