If I Slip Away
Quick thought: Are our lives becoming more like reality television, mirroring the supposed reality, as opposed to reality television mirroring actual life?
I've been on a bit of a music binge today. A cautious foresight, I suppose. I've been listening to my favorites. Plenty of Joy Division, some New Order, and all of the songs that remind me of those I love. I find myself at an interesting and terrifying impasse. For once in my life I have absolutely no idea what will come. And I'm scared.
I don't know how to emotionally prepare myself. I don't know what plans I need to lay out in the case of my absence. I don't know what words to say to plead my case. I don't know how. Or what. Or when.
I cried tonight, for the first time in quite awhile. Not very much, but enough for it to be a release, and enough to admit to myself that I'm afraid. I know that today is going to require all of the strength I have, and that stoicism will be an absolute necessity. The last time I was in the clink I knew that if I allowed myself to break down, even a little bit, that I may not recover from it. I knew that if I allowed myself to be weak, I would open the door to a complete collapse. It makes me wish I were more open with my emotions on a day to day basis.
I've had some scary thoughts lately. Faced some definite demons. I think I'll be okay.
Push
This is for Danielle. When I saw it, I automatically thought about your current state of writer's block. Every time I read through it I feel motivated to do. Ready. Start.
The Real News
I realized a couple of things this weekend:
1) I was having a conversation with Christina recently and she posited to me that I don't like gay men. I kind of shrugged it off at the time because it didn't seem that shocking. I've always openly admitted that I don't like gay men. But I was thinking about it today in the car and the gravity of it sank in a bit more: I don't like gay men. I have met fewer than ten gay men that I was both attracted to and interested in. That's bleak. I may never have sex again.
2) I don't think I can move to Chicago. Which is to say, I don't think I'd be happy in Chicago. I think I could live there for awhile, and I would definitely enjoy the company of my friends, but I'm not sure it's for me. I've spent a lot of time in Chicago and it has failed to really grab me. There is something missing, something awry. I don't think it's for me.
Life Just Will Not Let You Recover
I was just sitting here, listening to some Pink Floyd and feeling a little nostalgic and it happened. It always happens. Panic attack.
It's hard for me to think of my closest friends and not start to freak out a little. I fucking miss them. I know that I use this disclaimer very often, but I do love my friends in Missoula. That fact should not be doubted. But I fucking miss my best friends. I miss having those people around who don't have to ask how I feel, because they know without me saying. And I miss being able to talk to them about things that are bothering me without feeling like I'm being a bother myself.
Seeing Eric made me realize how much I miss people. And while it was great to see him, I miss him more now than I did before. And I miss everyone more, because the first thing I want to do is hang out with someone to cull the loneliness. I've got no legs to hold me up.
Will You Smile Again for Me?
Dear Snakebite,
Are you excited for your summer internship in Los Angeles? I am. I can't wait for you to leave. I hope you never come back. Oh, I'm sorry, is that mean spirited? Well, I'm not nice, and we're not friends, so let's stop pretending. It would make me incredibly happy if I never saw you again, so let's see what we can work out on that front, yeah?
Best,
Ryan
The Big R
No, not a terrible new nickname. Rejection.
I used to have this joke that I had never been rejected, except it wasn't I joke. I really had not. I somehow escaped adolescence without the emotional hardship of being turned down (but I was called a fag everyday, so I suppose there's some sort of trade off...). Sure, I've had rough breakups and things of that nature, but I'd never had someone flat out tell me no. Until this week.
The event had an interesting affect on me, mostly because I didn't feel the situation at hand warranted any response, or affirmation, or rejection. It was a bit confusing and became even more so as time went by. It is no secret that I think rather highly of myself, so there was obviously the rather initial shock of disbelief that this could actually be happening to me. Once that passed there were some bigger picture doubts that surfaced and had a far heavier impact. "I'm never going to date again." That is basically all I could think.
As I do in most situations when I'm not sure how to handle my emotions, I started walking. Every couple hours. I walked a lot. I'm still walking a lot. And at first it did absolutely nothing. It made me angrier, if anything. And then slowly, once I stopped thinking about everything so much, I actually started thinking. And this is when I realized that I've never dealt with rejection. I don't know how to process it. And then I became a bit fascinated. "So this is what it feels like?"
I wonder sometimes how human I really am. I wonder just how much I really relate to people. Somehow, when I am able to understand why I feel the way I do, when I unearth the reason, I immediately feel better. And from there begins the game. I'm not really sure, even to this day, what the game is, but I know I've been playing it my entire life. It begins with me feeling something, and then me needing to know how, why, etc... and then it evolves into this process of understanding how other people feel in the same situation, and how they deal with their emotions. And by wrapping myself in this process I eliminate the emotion all together. I make it irrelevant. Or rather, I make it irrelevant to me. I dissociate myself from my own experience.
And then I feel fine.
FML, Part II
I haven't slept. I'm fighting off a cold (not very successfully). I'm pretty sure I have an ear infection. I'm eating possibly the most disgusting leftovers ever. And I'm watching the, thus far, incredibly underwhelming "Parks and Recreation".
My life is awesome.
Introspect
I haven't slept yet. This, itself, is not news. Merely, a preface.
The last week has been interesting. I have the open wound, soon to be a scar, which will serve as some twisted memento. It's suiting that it's over my heart. That's sick. (I'm wishing I hadn't written that, but I'm not going to delete it.) (Strike this paragraph.)
Most notably, I stepped outside my realm of comfort regarding communication and my emotions. I haven't done that for quite some time. It was liberating, and it felt incredible. But Newton would have it that there be equal and opposite. I was discussing superpowers with someone recently, more specifically one's desired power. Sometimes I wish I had the power to not think so much. My abundant thoughts will surely someday stop my heart. My head has certainly by now taught my heart to be equally as unstable. Stress. Why? Is there room to be more non sequitur? Liking isn't as lovely as it seems.
Everybody hears the wind blow.
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