I had been writing non-stop for weeks. I’m not sure if it was restlessness, or if I had too much to get off my chest, or what. Sometimes I wrote two or three entries at the same time, because my mind went off in so many different directions. It’s always been a habit to over-analyze things.

Then at some point, the world stopped making sense. My mind went blank, leaving me with nothing to say. It’s like my brain had given up on trying to figure it all out. I guess it’s better than thinking too much.

I feel so distant from everything now. A strange numbness, unlike anything I’ve felt before. The things that used to matter don’t seem important anymore. Or maybe I just stopped caring.

Every now and then, I get a surge of emotion, and I’m unsure of whether I should fight it or embrace it.

Twice in one day? What?

Five years ago, I wrote that hope was the mindkiller. It can be a euphoric feeling, but as the result of several bad experiences, the potential for disappointment outweighed the gain.

My way of dealing with disappointment was to assume the worst. It made me comfortable. There was certainty, and I could move on.

So I had learned never to hope. This is how I changed. This is how I adapted. A defence mechanism I used to protect myself from being hurt. I had been fine with this, until today.

Perhaps it was having Julie tell me that I’m better than the attitude I have, or the life I lead¹, but I’m filled with hope again. For once, I dare to dream of something greater.

I want it and hate it at the same time. It gives me courage, but throws my world into uncertainty, like I’m setting myself up to be hurt again.

But Julie’s strong enough to believe in me and stubborn enough not to give up, because I’m not capable of believing in myself.

And maybe that’s enough to break the cycle.

1. It made me realize I need someone else to tell me certain things, because I can’t see them for myself. I hate the fact that I can’t be strong enough for myself. I probably shouldn’t. It just means there’s something else about which I’m being too hard on myself, which I’ll have to tell my psychologist about anyway. [↑]

This is one of the strangest times of my life. I remember feeling something similar to this over four years ago, but I haven’t had it since.

I’m fighting my old self again. Fighting against these feelings and past habits.

I wish I could define and explain it. Vincent Gallo has a song he titled “Glad To Be Unhappy”, filled his distinctly minimalistic piano and acoustic guitar sounds, so sparse you don’t know where the downbeat falls. But there are no lyrics, and I think I’m starting to understand why.

Everything is so simple when you’re set in your heart. But when you’re filled with such paradoxical, contradictory feelings, nothing makes any sense. The world is turned upside down.

I think a part of me wants to think about it. I want to keep this feeling, where every song sounds as good as the first time you heard it, and the leaden sky is urging you forward with every step you take. To be so inspired.

And while part of me knows that to fight against ones inner nature is foolish², another part of me knows how destructive it can be.

1. The original title of that post was actually just a 5×5 pixel square, meant to confuse the reader into not knowing what to think. Trolley tried to correct me once and told me the title was broken, and I had to let him know it was done on purpose. With my new headline images plugin, the graphic title doesn’t quite work so I had to change it. [↑]
2. To add another level to this, I’m fighting against fighting myself [↑]

In post war England, an imminent murder is announced in the local paper. A murder does occur, but not the one expected and it is Miss Marple who comes to the rescue to solve the mystifying case.

Two tickets, but I’m on the downswing. It’s the introverted end of my cycle and I can’t meet new people or go outside without feeling some kind of anxiety. I used to live two blocks away from the theatre, passing it many times but never in attendance. I always kept an eye out for a play I wanted to see — Equus, or Hamlet, or Picasso at the Lapin Agile — but nothing piqued my interest. This time, the opportunity presented itself, Pearl double-booked with extra tickets, and I couldn’t say no.

I force myself to go.

It’s a little warm to be wearing a blazer, but nothing else affords me the pockets for my Moleskine, pen, lens cloth, and iPod. Waiting at the bus stop, I write.

At this time on a Sunday, I’m usually winding down. Taking out the garbage, doing the dishes, finishing off an entry, getting things squared away for another week. Instead, I’m heading out. For days I’ve been trying to write about how jumbled I feel. There have been new developments, both good and bad, leaving me with a mixture of excitement and disappointment. The most I can say is that it makes sense, how I feel, and I can trace every emotion to a cause.

The bus comes. On it, I listen to my music but I can’t get in the right head space. Nothing fits. I’m not feeling sad, or happy, or jaded, or energetic. I skip song after song.

Stepping off the bus, my agoraphobia begins to choke me.

Continue reading

Sharpen a blade too much
  and its edge will soon be lost
Fill a house with gold and jade
  and no one can protect it
Puff yourself with honor and pride
  and no one can save you from a fall

—Verse Nine, Tao Te Ching

Every time I start to write, I’m led back to this. It would appear that it’s time to express myself. Perhaps I’m ready. It feels like I’m only scratching the surface, trying to cover aspects of something that I have yet to understand. In the shower I decided to split this into several entries of a series, and in my room the lights are all on.

There’s been more instability in the last month than in the last three years of my life combined. Everything I knew, everything I believed in, has been turned upside-down. Although I’m still trying to figure out what happened, the fact of the matter is that there was a long, drawn-out crisis. This crisis, which appears to have passed, still affects my thoughts, my actions, and my beliefs.

Even though I don’t completely have my feet on the ground, it feels like I’m comfortable enough to explore what’s happened now. This is not an easy task. A single, seemingly innocuous thought can end up breaking the strands of the delicate web I’m treading.

If I can get it all down, I’ll know I’ve gone that far at least.

The Awakening Series

1. Introduction
2. Cause
3. The Reborn Dreamer

New developments have left me with much to say. My mind feels like it’s going 80 thoughts per minute. Chaos proves to be a useful writing tool. For now, rest.

Sometimes I think I see the letters on my desk rattling to the bass, but when I look, the letters are still. I suspect that my eyes are twitching.

It was a heavy day. I’m too scrambled inside to eat. I know I’ll be hungry first thing in the morning.

“Malice”, he used. Not great, but good, and certainly more than I deserve. I’m still paranoid.

Through everything else, someone is testing me. Testing my new found serenity. Testing the very thing that I’ve been fighting against, for the last few years. The only person who can bring me to a desire for physical manifestation of my raging frustration (aside from people who smoke around babies). On the bus, I uncontrollably pictured wrapping my fingers around her neck, and strangling her. I know that that’s bad. Sometimes my own thoughts scare me. I’m not a violent person.

The world is a twisted, twisted one-act.

Even before getting in bed, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep because of this. I knew that as soon as I woke up to roll over, I wouldn’t stop thinking, wondering about the situation I’m in.

Somewhere in my mind I want to run away again, simply because it would be the easiest thing to do. Fortunately, I know better, and realize that I have to face up to the decisions I make, as well as the consequences that result.

I can’t tell if the hardest part is not knowing or not assuming.

When I went home for Christmas three years ago, I was a very confused person. I had no idea what I was looking for, what I was doing. When I came back, I felt as if I had gone through some sort of mid-life crisis. I still didn’t know what I wanted, but for some reason I wasn’t confused anymore. Did I end up resolving anything? To this day I don’t know.

What I do know, however, is that I haven’t stopped changing. Even if I did come to some conclusion back then, it would have no relevance today. So many things are changing, not the world around me, but me myself.

I see this as a good thing. It lets me know that I’m still learning, that I’m still living to the highest degree. I have difficulty “defining” myself, difficulty understanding my own (long term) actions sometimes. As I’ve known since high school, it usually takes me at least half a year to understand the choices I make.

Sometimes it feels like a constant mid-life crisis when I keep questioning the decisions I make and the relationships I have with others. I question things not with doubt, but with curiosity.

And this has filled my life with uncertainty.

The hardest thing in life is not knowing what to think or feel.

It’s difficult for me to imagine being done school, that I can start living as a free person. I’ve been in school for so long that I begin to expect another term in the near future. Yet I’m done (as long as I didn’t fail anything) and I have a great deal of options. But what would I really want to do with my life? A university diploma will only help me get a tiny part of what I want to achieve.

Odd that I live so day-to-day, yet have a few goals planned for decades in advance. Even if I haven’t achieved a single goal by the time I die, I’ll feel decently satisfied. I enjoy being able to appreciate everything I do each day. A great deal of thinking needs to be done before I keep going. And while the future seems uncertain, while the world seems to be turned upside down, I feel comforted.

It’s understanding and realization that bind my world together, that bring meaning to anything I do.