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Loneliness is heavy like marmalade running out of my head in thoughts onto paper as slowly as it runs onto your pancakes. It may take a lifetime, but I'll fill my pages. Its thickness and texture; the taste of loneliness on a warm and sticky summer morning. Reminds me of the way pockets of hot hot air felt when I cut through them on my bike.
The only thing that bothers me about the leisure of having absolutely nothing to do is the fact that I can't write. My brain won't stop long enough to come up with the story.
I have no idea what day school starts back up. I haven't looked, intentionally. Once I do anxiety will strike - and this is why I will write here for another month... not because I have any worthwhile words. This is the first semester in years that I will be alone. I hate first days. Having a girlfriend by my side made the transition easier though. Now I'm alone, comfortable alone, but still fearful. She was my only support. She was my biggest fan. Dad's dead and no longer notices the things I do, for him. What do I have left?
Hello cognitive decline. Tried to make coffee with no water. Took me a minute to realize what was going on. Woke up in extreme pain instead of the usual excruciating pain. I'm gonna try to avoid the ibuprofen for at least a couple hours. I feel dependent on it because I know it helps. It makes me want to take a fist full and go for a run. I'm dying, yet I'm rejuvenated from spending the entire day with K yesterday. I'll last another week like this. Maybe after healing I can exercise for more than two weeks before injury.
Only three more days before I start to lose muscle. There's no way this will be healed in three days. This is such a crappy summer. All I wanted was to lose some weight. All I wanted was to be in shape for my concert. All I wanted was to make my ex insane with jealousy about how much my appearance has changed since we broke up. I guess though I already did that the day she took me to my spot to go running. But it could have been better. I could have been hotter and thinner and tanner.
I spent my morning/afternoon icing and elevating my foot. I do believe it has helped. A good book has helped as well. At the library this particular book has passed through my hands many many times, check ins, check outs, shelvings and searches. I was immediately enamored with it but never was resourceful enough to remember the title. The last time I encountered it I wrote down the name. Then I forgot about it for awhile. I remembered it yesterday because I knew I was only a dozen pages away from finishing that other great book I just finished reading.
I really wish someone could pretend to care for a moment. My best friend died ten months ago. I've been more alone than the kind of alone that other people know to exist. I've been alone on a new level that most people will not experience in this lifetime. So, yeah, I really wish someone could even just Pretend to care, for a moment, about something other than themselves. I'm just so tired. I'm wearied. This physical pain is surely breaking me down more and more. I have a theory that I must hold some repressed emotions in that ankle.
I face the problem of having nothing I
to read. I have a few choices but they are too rich for my current tastes. I want something I don't need to think too much about. It's hard to focus on reading when in pain. I don't plan to take ibuprofen again anytime soon. I'll reread The Little Prince but that takes like a minute. I could read Kafka or Nabokov short stories. What I'd really like is to be
to read Kierkegaards Fear and Trembling. But that requires too much focus. I wish I lived in a library.
I need to make an appointment with a GP. And find a new gynecologist. Mine's too old and I think if I mention my supplement theory he'll look at me and say "______, what the fuck is ______?" It's not a theory though. I've done the research. ______ and vitamin C and bioflavinoids. Hopefully the GP will be smart enough for me. If they can be authoritative enough to make me comfortable with them okaying the plan then I'll be okay. I probably feel confident enough with it to do it without them okaying it though. This is my life.
I want someone to care about my day for once. I find it disheartening that not a single person has asked WHY I can't ride my bike anymore. Not a single person. They all know I love to ride and they know that I can't ride even though I miss it. How do people just not care? Is it so hard to ask me why I can't ride anymore? “Hey, why are you unable to do the one thing that you love to do?” I suppose in reality I'm lucky no one asked. What would I say? I've no idea.
Saw my favorite band last night, the band that writes music directly for my tormented soul. Their words poured from the speakers and into my overly receptive ears but all I could think was “they've sold out.” Realized later that they hadn’t really, they merely played to the masses. Everyone was there to see the next band, so my band played all their radio hits. I hurt for them. Until I realized that they didn't play the singles from their newest album. That realization eased my soul in the way I had been searching for. I'm still their biggest fan.
I was in the shower and realized I was sad. There's been a fly hanging out for a few days. At first I said whatever because he just stayed in one spot. Yesterday he started flying around while I showered and I told him I was getting creeped out. I felt watched. Today he fucking landed on me. I flipped out. I lectured him about indecency, through tears, and told him he can't do this to people. You just can't. And then I sobbed. And I maybe felt a little better. I've always enjoyed crying in the shower. It's cleansing.
It was a gorgeous summer day followed by a chilly summer night leading to a chilly summer morning. This is the end, my friends. I've put off making my schedule for work because it consists of seeing when the first day of classes is. But the last possible minute to put it off ends today. Should have done it last night but I conveniently forgot. I don't want to know and I don't want to go and maybe sometimes I do wish for some eternal summer. I just want another chance. I've only ever wanted to have a healthy body.
Do you have any idea how much mental energy is expended by hanging out with someone I have a crush on? It's immense. I worry about what kind of long term reaction this could have. What if it's like a stress reaction and cortisol is being released every time we hang out? I need to get over the attraction somehow because I believe that we are becoming great friends. And I think the attraction only exists as some sort of transference because she reminds me of D. And she is in fact everything I would look for in a friend.
The human body is enough to make a person feel utterly helpless. Something's gone terribly awry and there's nothing you can do, it's out of your control. You can close your eyes and say this sucks and the spinning of the world will surely make you dizzy as fuck when you reopen your eyes. I essentially lost a limb. It was like a leg. It was a big driving force in my life, dictating direction, always. An energy we all instinctively follow. I'll sit down to mourn the loss, but I'll know that the world is keeping on keeping on.
D played such an important role in my life, I think sometimes it was way bigger than the role my father filled. It had to have been. I really worry that I am STILL not dealing with this death. I don't know how to grieve. I don't want to have to grieve for my best friend. That's probably what it all comes down to. If I don't grieve for her, if I don't accept that she's really gone, then she can't possibly Really be gone.
She's gone. Your best friend is dead. You are all alone.
Truest sentences I know.
Classes start the 29th. It was already going to be a hard semester. But my depression is about to run rampant through my life. I'm angry that I seemingly had it under control with doses of sun and exercise and then lost it. Maybe it was an illusion; I so easily fall for illusions. My soul searches for answers anywhere. I grab at clouds, reaching for whatever lays hidden. I feel myself sinking into this depression as though it were the embracing hands of an old friend.
How have you been my kind friend? I should have been expecting you.
I thought maybe I no longer needed to inhibit the reuptake receptors. I hoped I somehow made my brain operate normally. I felt well, effortlessly. I smiled and laughed and I felt real. And I remain genuine, but in darkness. This is who I've always been. D would tell you that when I'm depressed I'm more genuinely me than most people are real on their realest day. She knew me, the only one who ever really knew me. She may have often times been my ONLY friend, but that was always enough for me because she was my BEST friend.
Found a random page of a letter D wrote me from jail. She wrote me many letters and I'm fairly certain I have them somewhere. There's still two boxes in the bottom corners of my closet that I need to look in. But the page I found... It was her having done random research on Sylvia Plath. Anyone who knows anything about me knows I've always adored Sylvia Plath. D loved me so dearly... that is what the random page I found illustrated for me. I put it under my pillow. I've never missed anything the way I miss her.
"I feel like I'm literally a something trapped in this body." D wrote that to me in the page of letter I have. My first thought was along the lines of how our somethings are supposed to be together. And maybe someday they will be again. My second thought was that I truly hope she is free now. Free of the confines of her body and her addictions and her mental illnesses. It's really lame to say, but I hope she is like an eagle, soaring. I hope she's okay, wherever she is; I hope she knows I miss her.
D didn't know I quit smoking cigarettes. She wouldn't have believed it so I waited to tell her until having a substantial amount of time. I was gonna see her, she'd ask for a cigarette and I would have said I quit. That day never came. Instead I hung out with stupid A&E the weekend before D died. Maybe she knew, and died of a broken heart. Even in the moment I wished I'd called her instead. My life could be drastically different if I had heard from her, the weekend before she dies, that she loves and misses me.
So many bikes seen on so many cars and each one ate at me. Each sighting is like a lumberjack taking another swing at a stubborn tree. I will fall. I lost the ability to ever ride hard again. I can no longer state that I'm an avid cyclist. I will never again be an avid cyclist. The most I can hope for is easy paced hour long rides. Like ten mile rides where in the past ten miles was often how long I had to ride home in pain because I had rode too long and hard that day.
I had a socially on day with K. She let me talk and I didn't feel like she was only waiting for me to finish talking so she could continue talking. I think she was intrigued because I hadn't had a socially on day around her yet. My normal self mostly just responds to external cues. Deflective socializing? This is why I seek out friends like D and K who can essentially conversate alone as long as I respond in kind when appropriate; or ask prodding questions to give them steam to continue talking. A socially on day is different.
I did the inevitable. I ran. It was glorious. I couldn't believe how effortless it was. My legs and lungs didn't protest. My body was a machine. It sat in storage for a month and was grateful to finally fly out the box. I walked into the woods and felt the greatest sense of relief because I knew exactly what I was about to do. I entered my mistress for the first time in a month and she fucking missed having me inside of her. We communed in the most sensual way possible. I practically made love to those trails.
I wouldn't be here without D and I wonder how long I'll survive without her. I realize that that is all I've been doing... surviving. I worry she sees what her death left me; I worry she doesn't. I worry I alone carry the burden of knowing I have not a friend in the world. There's not a single soul knowing who I am. That is what lonely means. I tell myself that loneliness is just part of the human condition. But inside I am aware that this runs deeper than your average run of the mill human condition loneliness.
Maybe I can write only OMG and it will encapsulate the evening.
K likes me. I don't even know what to do with myself.
We were really like the cutest people in the entire world I think.
I'm fairly certain that meeting S was just K getting her best friends approval.
K's got it bad now. She had been my plague but now suddenly I'm her plague and her body is aching with fever.
I won and now I have to get out. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to chase the unrequited.
We've entered my favorite stage. The stage where you both can't get enough of each other. Time spent apart is time wasted; you subsist in a foggy daze. You make plans days in advance, the soonest feasible time to see each other again, but end up seeing each other multiple times before because tomorrow is always too far away. There's an elastic cord holding you together and the pressure from physical distance is immense. You do everything in your power to follow the cord back. Physical distance is the only real barrier and breaking that pressure is your main focus.
So, yeah. We only texted until like 5:30 in the morning after she left me around 4:30. And I still woke up at 8:30 like I do every freakin day. It's nearly impossible to sleep with her running through my brain. Work will be interesting tonight with my three hours of sleep and 13 hours combined through the last three nights. Worth it though. Had our first kiss last night.
A four and a half month crush culminating into one incredible kiss.
I said: Could I have kissed you? She says yes. I say: Can I still?
She kissed me!
Looking out the window into the darkness we saw an unfamiliar shade of black acting like a shroud over the city. We were alone together and I had never felt more alive. There was so much love coursing between us that the entire city may as well have been in love with us. We rode out the storm within each other's eyes. The house around us could have blown away and we would have remained perfectly content to just stay right where we were. Sometimes nothing else matters and sometimes that is all that matters. She is all that matters.
Her mom walked in on us last night and then offered for me to stay over in the morning after K leaves for work at 5:30am and said she'd cook breakfast for us.. LoL. Her mom loves me, clearly. Essentially saying: sleep with my daughter and in the morning after she exhaustedly leaves for a hard day of work I'll make you breakfast. I didn't stay though. I didn't wanna stay with just her mom for 11 hours without electricity. It probably wouldn't have been that bad though. We would have sat around smoking pot and napping, I would assume.
Love. It's insane how the past week has been an absolute blur. I can't recall anything at all that I've done other than spend time with K. She is all that I know. She is everything that I see, think and feel. We're drowning into each other. The world is a very dangerous place when all that two people can see is each other. I swear that we are both blind to everything but the happenings between us. If everyone in the world could have these feelings all of the time then we would easily achieve worldwide peace and harmony.
My whole life makes sense now. Endorphins aren't able to pass through the blood brain barrier so they are not really the Cause of the runners high. Instead there is a neurotransmitter called anandamide that binds to cannabinoid receptors! I remember learning something about anandamide and also definitely remember learning about cannabinoid receptors which fascinated me thoroughly simply because I smoke pot and like to know how my brain reacts to it. So, anandamides, produced from exercising, bind to cannabinoid receptors and give us that runners high. It's no surprise that I'm so in love with exercising. Hello addictive personality.
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