Seventeen Cold Showers

Save me from what I want.

Here's the truth:

I hate the smell of my dad's New Years cooking. I hate it more than you know. It may be because of New Years 2008 when I had the stomach flu and that smell made me feel worse. I've always hated it. So much that I can barely eat the meal, and the smell in the house just kind of makes me depressed.

I don't think many of my friends have loved me proper, but I can name a few. I think Jenna really did show me love, at least now. Back in high school, things sucked. I always felt shitty. I'm getting better and I know it, so I'm trying to not freak out right now and get on a plane to France or slice my wrists open. There are times when I feel very confident in myself and like I could do anything, go anywhere, be anybody. It's the loveliest thing ever, even lovelier than watching Sherlock with Ryan. Ryan has shown me love. He is such a good guy, I can see it. He has been a good friend to me, not lied, I have not lied to him. He is maybe the best friendship I have had a taste of. I am grateful for him and what he has taught me, how he has treated me. It sounds quite silly, but when I am talking to him I see in his eyes kindness. The same kindness I saw that first night we became friends, the kindness that to this day scares me. I don't need to be perfect for him, because I have been bad and he is still here. I'm not scared like I was before. I know how to be with him. Not everything is that nice in my life, in fact a lot of things are complete shit. It's good to know I have some very very very very very good things. 

The truth is this as well: depression is odd. I feel like I have very little control, like a monster is living inside of me. Every single day is a struggle. Every single day. I go to sleep not knowing who I will wake up as, I wake up not knowing how the night will end. If I will hurt myself or anyone else. All the lovely things in the world couldn't change it, really. It's all in my head, a place untouched. I am so, so, so scared of depression. Even when I'm happy, I can't really be, because I know I'll come down. I hope one day that goes away. That, more than ANYTHING else. A lot has improved, so I think life does that for you. If you just agree to live in and stick with it, it will make you better. You just can't give up in the hard times. It's like when you're born, life makes a deal with you: I'll help you, I'll let you be happy, if you can just get through the shit with or without grace. :-) I don't know why, but I do what I want a lot. I'm still unhappy. I don't even know what I am. I know I'm not okay. I'm so weird and confused and lonely and stressed and bored and wired and sleepy and hungry and depressed and excited and everything everything everything under the sun WHY CAN'T I JUST BE OKAY?!?!?! Why can't a magical genie come down from the fucking sky and say "You're okay now!!!!" ???? PLEASE? Nights like these, I just want to stop everything and know why life has to be like this. I'm not good at life. There are things I internalize then uninternalize. Why is that? I just realize: Ryan and I talk about our feelings together. I don't know why that amuses me so much in this moment. He isn't even the cutest guy ever or whatever, I didn't see him and go " O H H O T D A M N I W A N N A T A P D A T ! !" or whatever. I saw him and I was like "Oh wow he smiles a lot. Wow he's annoying. He's always happy and stuff. Ewh. Why does he always try to be funny and be a leader? Ewh. He reminds me of Zach. That sucks cuz I miss Zach. He's kinda cute I guess, a little. Juan Carlos is cuter. But he's okay. Cuter than Levi. Maybe not. I dunno, but maybe I wanna talk to him more. I could see us maybe being friends, but he's too cool for me and he does drugs and went to public school, and I'm lame. Oh wow, okay so he's flirting with me. What do I do now? I'm so confused. Why must you do this odd person? You fluster me and confuse me garrr. You seem cool. You don't really talk to me. Okay now you do. Hello. Oh wow, you can keep an intelligent conversation. You are refreshing. Okay. Oh wow. Okay. Yes, we are friends now. And the rest is history." That's basically how it went. Now I love his face because it's familiar and friendly and his eyes are the scariest, most honest things I've seen in this world. They show everything, especially when his smile is fake. I love love love when he is smiling for real. I love it so much you don't even know, because he is too good to be unhappy. He deserves happiness, and I hope he finds the love of his life and becomes the father he wants to be and does everything within his power and within his lifetime to be a good, full person. I can't do any of that for him, it's for him to do. But dear god I wish it for him. I don't regret anything that's happened in our friendship. He tries so hard, and I understand now. How he keeps going. It's hard, yea. I know because I do the same thing. He's smart, mature, but boring in the most not boring way ever. If there's a person out there who doesn't fucking love that boy to bits and mistreats him, I will hurt them like a motherfucker. No one is allowed to hurt Ryan. He's beautiful.

Anyyyyyyyyyyyways.

I need to get out of my house more. I dunno. I work a lot. I get lots of moneeeeyyy. I need to spend it on something useful, other than covering up my stupid mistakes. I'm so silly. I'm learning, though. Getting better, more confident. I can totally see myself being awesome. Like super confident and stuff, in myself. I just gotta get there. I'm only 19, and this is a weird time in my life. It's a time where I really have to think for myself. Cray cray. Amazeballs. Cut open my sternum and pull my little ribs around you.

I hate cleaning now. Sometimes we are all sad, sometimes we are all happy. Anybody who seems okay all  the time is either always high or just completely fucked up inside or maybe just a really good liar. I dunno. I'm not worse off or better off, everyone's struggling and learning. I wish I could really see that, I think it would make me feel a LOT better. I need to make friends with real people. That helps. It helps me see we're all not so different. I sometimes feel like "Yeah I rock at interacting with humanity" and other times I shut myself up in my room like a depressed nun and cry and cut myself and do stupid pointless stuff. Indulge in my dark side I guess. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BE ME AROUND PEOPLE I'M NOT THAT CLOSE TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love when people I know really well are awkward around people they know really well it makes me smile a lot and love them a lot and fuck fuck I love my friends a LOT. Why is having so friends so hard? I just ugh. I can't do LIFE. 

...........life. ................me. .............we are a failed relationship.

Horribly failed.

Dope

Hello, hello. Can you hear me?

I REFUSE TO BE CRAZY. I'm done. 

I will take my medicine. I will go to therapy. I will find a psychiatrist that actually makes sense with my schedule. I will be a good person. I will stop complicating my life. I will be honest when I need to be, and when I should be. I will work hard and take pride in what I do. I will have hope for the future. I'm done being crazy. I am extremely unhappy being this way, so it's time to stop this nonsense. Stop wasting your time on people who make you beg for attention. Seriously, where's your self worth? You are a gorgeous, intelligent, independent, growing young lady. Everyday you learn something new, you try to make someone smile. Stop pretending to be such a tough bitch. You're not. You're not a shy little weakling either. You're just a girl trying to find her way. Stop trying to get sympathy for problems that don't need to exist. Honestly, I think that I'm scared life won't throw enough my way. I think I'm tougher, more experience, more ready than I truly am. But in honesty, I need to trust the universe. I need that as a tattoo. I want so many tattoos. I want one that says, "Thank you, not sorry." It's something Ryan said to me once right before I fell asleep: Try saying thank you more, and sorry less. It might change your perspective. It was very good advice. In the past year I've gotten some great advice. That was a good one. Another one from Ryan: Start making decisions for yourself. I don't know if he worded it the way I would have, but I know what he meant. I was living my life off the rail, so carefree, weirdly and temporarily happy. Ashton and the time he drove me to my dad's car. He told me I was a nice girl. He told me I couldn't quit ever, because every time I quit, I teach myself that that is okay. I think of that when I want to be weak or skip work or something. I still go, even when I'm coming down or haven't slept all night or wanting to rip my skin off my wrists. Yeah, however I feel, I fucking go into work and think of what he said, "Are you gonna stand up or lay down right now? What you do now will define what you do later. You will learn from this moment, and you can learn to grow and be strong, or you can learn to give up and be weak." Those words really affected me. I've gotten good advice from Jenna, Guillermo, Taylor, my parents, my grandma, my brother, so so so so so many people. Richard Gamez. Lauren. So many good words my way. I could, and will, write them all down but I dunno. I dunno. I feel nervous talking to people. I wanna go camping. 

Wow my battery goes away so fast.

Anyways. It's time to get to bed. Too bad. I stole a book now I wanna read it. I also met an interesting Jewish guy. Then today I met a guy named Mike who said he'd come back tomorrow and get a coffee from me. Hm. So tomorrow I work 3P-CLOSE. Great. At least I work with Dee. She is very cool and mature. I like mature people. But I also like people who can have fun.

The Stars Feel Like Knives, Tell Us What We're Fighting

Up high for false affection, again.

So today if I had to describe my depression (shouldn't I just name it? I think I'll name it Uma.) it's like keeping head above water. Doggy paddling. Like a thought that keeping resurfacing but I have to drown it, or I drown. This is how it feels to die. Now I understand why so many people revert to saying "I'll pray for you." It just gives you something to say to convey how you feel. But when you don't believe in prayer or God, what do you say? "I'm sorry"? "I'm thinking of you"? "How can I help?" I think non-belief in a God forces you to think a LOT more. But religion, done right, stretches the mind as well. I guess it shows that there's two different sides to this whole human existence thing. Depends how you look at atheism and religion and whatnot. I look at things too much. Go off and sit on the dock and smoke and go into my mind too much. Quiet people are seriously fucked up, at least I am. Tonight I stole a book from the hotel and met a Jewish guy named Matt who talked to us for a long time and liked asking deeper questions and I took a bath and choked on the water. I don't know how to be human obviously. I'm trying my best, which is what makes me so mad. I have this weird complex where I think everyone either hates me or thinks I'm really weak for being sad. It makes it hard to express emotion. But I am trying my best and when I seem neutral on top, I am probably being ripped apart on the inside by crippling emptiness. Dramatic, but it's true. It sucks to always have to hide this, but what's the other option? Be like I was, isolated, always a downer, no friends, never being myself really? I need to at least try to get out there and meet people and make the best of my life. I can't go to the grave thinking I wasted any years. I am not wasting any more time on my depression, but I need to find serious solutions. Sometimes it makes it hard to go to school or hold down a job or make friends or even answer the smallest questions. Sometimes talking feels like being stabbed. Sometimes I just look at everything and everyone and realize it goes beyond feeling small in an infinite abyss, it comes down to the fact that I can't even begin to think of those terms. My mind isn't ready to accept them. My mind is a dark, dark, dark, dark, dingy place. It's the basement of an abandoned murder house. It's a piece of rat shit in a gutter. I'm so afraid of it, my mind. I know if I take drugs and see myself, I will just die of fear. I will do that before I croak. LSD, shrooms, MDMA. Done: weed, DXM. I guess I just want to put myself through everything and see how I come out. It may be extremely stupid, and so many people say, there are some mistakes you just SHOULDN'T make. I agree, but there's this side of me that's so selfish and fucked up and hidden. Freud would have creamed his pants for me. Fuck. What else can I say? I continue to learn, fill up my head with more stuff, forever stuff it full. I need acceptance, I need to be reminded that I'm loved and supported. Some people don't do that with words and I need to respect and understand that. I need to expand my mind to see that. I guess with Jenna she was always so vocal about how she felt, her appreciation and friendship. Other people aren't, you have to catch it in their actions. It's interesting now to watch religious stuff because I used to be very into that with the novenas and the retreats and the adorations, but now I see it like a third person. I try hard not to adopt the hateful attitude like "Oh it's all so fake" but I also try not to say, "It must be real!" I sound so unintelligent right now. I need to read more. HERES MY PLANS FOR THE FUTURE

-Go to that house with Zach again for funsies.

-Go camping with friends.

-Maybe one day actually make a friend group. FML.

-Get married in an abandoned house, camp there for my honeymoon, then restore the house. THAT'S WHAT I WANT.

-Go to NYC with someone I am madly in love with and spend a week there, tour Oheka Castle and get some champagne, make love, mad love!

-Do those drugs.

-Don't die.

-Love.

-Watch the sunset with somebody, talk the whole night, then watch the sunrise.

My family is knocking. I must answer the door now. More later.

More/Sea

To the sea, the sea of love.

Life feels too strange now that I'm on meds and I've realized I can be whoever I want and some people will accept me. I feel empty, sometimes happy. As always, I HATE loving someone. Nobody tells you that it's this hard. I need to tell him this. I will, on that day we hang out for a while. I want to kiss him. I forgot how wonderful he was, and how awful. I feel like I need his personality in my life, I need to know there will be someone who will talk me down, or not, or just be quiet and not understand and just see how I suffer but doesn't tell me to join clubs or exercise or quit smoking, he just sits and holds my hand or puts on the TV while I hide my face in the pillows and cry, my legs across his lap. I know I will think about this until the day I tell him. So I better soon. Then I'll go to university and maybe make lots of friends and work at Starbucks and meet a nice boy who does lots of club drugs. Are there other people out there like Ryan? I remember first meeting him, thinking he smiled too much and was too funny and good and had too many leadership qualities and I didn't like him and his happy little face and silly little ways. Then I learned more, and he grew on me. The minute we became friends, we became honest with each other. I hope he hasn't friendzoned me. And if he has, if he tells me I have no chance whatsoever with him, then I'll ask for a kiss, and I'll move on. I'll still be his friend, though. But I'll move on. Not that I'm not looking right now. I like that I can sometimes maybe make him smile. I like that he's practical, but I also hate it a LOT. I don't know. What am I even talking about. Tomorrow I spend a day in Chicago by myself. I plan on smoking a lot of cigarettes, going to Millenium Park, walking around, trying to be interested in life. Eating good food for sure. I wanna get off my meds. I wanna tell Ryan how empty I feel now that I'm 19 and still alive and free from religion. Fuck what people say about religion freeing you: all it ever did was fuck me up with weird thoughts. Will I ever be okay? I want a day in the sun. I want sex. I want to be scared to death. I want MDMA. I want New York City. I want to jump in a freezing lake, naked, and feel something. I'm getting off these meds now. I need to be happy again.

Monster

I'm friends with the monster.

I think about it sometimes, objectively. Like an expert in her field, but never that affected by anything. I think about what I'll write down for it to make any sense later, then when I do, it's gone. Tricky. It's hard to describe. There's so many types, too. The easiest ones to recall are the most dramatic. There will be times when my self-hatred is unbearable, a giant looming oversight riding alongside me in the car. I look up to the sky (when this happens is nearly the only time I ever pray anymore) and I ask that if there's a God up there, that he please come down for just a second and take away that feeling. It's horrible, eternal in the moment, inconsolable. Those words don't even begin to speak to the horrors of that stage. It's like I stare into space, but inside my head there's a million buzzing little monsters  killing my insides. A self-hatred with no reason, that drives me to kill myself, cut my flesh, do anything to take away the shame of being human.

Generally, it's an uphill battle to not fall apart. Every second needs to be filled, planned, or else I know I'll break. I jump from one bad habit to the next to supply just enough pain and stupidity to keep myself on track with self-destruction. OCD tendencies, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, love, pain, lateness, stupidity, intelligence, anything to take away the underlying emptiness of the human condition. There's a big gap in my soul, a dark void that was dug out when I was very little. It compels me towards the edge of perfection and assurance, it kills me with every word I say. I have found nothing to take it away but one thing: mad, true, crazy love. I was in love once, for a long time. Many months. A year. It isn't that long when I think on it, but it seemed forever, because it was so strong. It ripped me apart, turned me into a different person. A love that destroys, changes, survives beyond all. That's the love I had, and I hope to have it again some day. It took away the feelings for once in my life, and I felt for the first time in 18 years that things were going to be okay for me. Then of course it went wrong and I turned much worse, but I'm forever grateful to have felt that. I love somebody now, but he is all wrong for me. What else is new?

I lose interest in everything. The moon is a cotton ball, the stars are dust. Even friendship is lonesome. The cigarettes taste blank, the music is always quiet. Work is bullshit. School, unnecessary. Human interaction? Avoidable. Food is a chore, showering stops. No cleaning, no changing my clothes, no taking care of myself. I won't eat until I feel ill or dizzy or both. It's not intentional, I just forget to take care of myself. It seems pointless, no not even that important as pointless. It's less than pointless. It just falls completely out of my priorities. It's replaced with a dull buzz to keep on with nothing, until I can hit a high or find someone to pull me out. That phase frightens me. I've found what best gets me out of it is DXM, alcohol, drugs, a car crash, running away. I push the feeling until it's too much, then I act the opposite, and everyone around me flashes their head back at me: where did I go?

The meds don't help. Therapy is painful. Hope leaves me completely. I place my hope in a person, a thought, a plan, a blade, a bottle of cough medicine, a notebook. I transfer it around my little world, my little life, and it never really settles. I will always be on the move, in and out of phases, in and out of your life. I cannot be caught or settled down. Something, a chain link fence, stands between me and everyone else. I can see them, the metal cuts my fingers to the bone as they play, but I stand on my own side, sandy white beach, black waves kissing my heels.

Somedays it's like a cloud. Descends on me the moment I wake up, a fog and I know it. I lay in bed for it to go away, but it doesn't. Upon impact with the real air, with another person, headaches begin. Anxiety courses into my bloodstream. I quiet down, shut myself down. I can't go to the store, can't go outside, not alone anyways, I need supervision. In the nighttime I quietly cut my skin open and watch the beautiful reds flow down my arm. It brings me nothing usually, but there is sometimes an after-effect of health. I love the lines on my arm. They're so straight, perfect, like sheet music. They look right on me. I dream about them. Sometimes I can see the fat and the flesh and meat underneath the skin, a pearly pink matter that leaves pretty pink ovals. Those are my favorite.

Other days it comes out as anger. I don't feel the anger, I only see it pass before my eyes as I hurt the person I love most. Hours of pain, I don't know how to make it go away. I hurt the world as best I can. I scheme, manipulate. But I never pull out the worst tricks. I know that if I do, then I'm truly just a bad person. As long as I don't do that, I am mentally ill only, not evil. I cannot be evil.

For Pitseleh With Love

The first time I saw you, I knew it would never last.

I fucking love you. I miss you. I'm so scared to say it, but I need you. Not as a friend, not as a boyfriend, not as any of that. Just as a person. Just as you. Every memory I have of you makes me appreciate you more... I wish I could capture it all into a simple album or something tangible, because the memories flash by so fast and I want them to stand still for a bit. I remember your face in the mirror when I hid mine behind my hands, I remember the freckles on your shoulders, the way you were trying to be dignified on our walk back to the car, the way things seem okay now, even a bit. It's not perfect, I'm not cured, but I'm glad for a bit of goodness. I hope I don't scare you with what I say, but yes, I'm okay. I remember that night after I took all that shit and drove to Ian's and slept in your bed and how you kept talking and saying stuff in the dark and I was so so so so so happy every time you said another thing and it sparked another bit of conversation, even though I had to be up at 6:30 am for work and I think we went to bed at around 4:30 that night. I remember that the last thing you said was something about not saying "sorry" so much, but to start saying "thank you." That it might change my perspective. That's something I want to remember. Thank you not sorry. I think I said something like "Thank you for caring for me and being there for me. I will try to do that more often." I knew from the tone of my voice that I didn't sound sincere, maybe it was the cough syrup, maybe I was so sleepy. You said something like, "I mean it." And I said, "I know. I mean it too. I know it doesn't sound like it, but I do. I mean everything I say." Then you rolled over and we fell asleep at some point, I woke up soon, you walked me to my car, gave me a long hug, and I went to work. That night when we got to your house, you made me a sandwich and brought me a glass of almond milk because you know I like it, I didn't even ask for it. You made me eat the sandwich every time you heard my stomach growl. You asked if I wanted to watch a prison show, because you know those helped me go to sleep. Remember that other time, that night we went to the play? How I went off to smoke cigarettes in the woods by the lake, I was crying so hard. You had told me you couldn't hold my hand anymore. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck don't you realize how good you are? You're the first person my age I would ever begin to consider a man. I remember the first time I noticed you, in ASL class, playing that "Elephant" game, or maybe it was the time you fingerspelled your name fastest out of everyone. I remember thinking you were very cute, but I could never have you in my life. I remember when you slid next to me in Melanie's car and I didn't know what to do. I remember when I thought you were an asshole because you had flirted with me that night and at the end you told me you had plans with your friends. I remember driving in your '76 BMW, and that kid waved at us. I remember when you cut my nail with your knife and you were holding my hand and I said, "OW!" just to make you think you'd cut me. I remember when I stole your knife and told you I wouldn't give it back and you grabbed it from me and said it was a part of you. I remember when you taught me to snort stuff. I remember all the times you've Wikipedia'ed whatever we were talking about. I remember the one time I made you laugh, and the one time I laughed when I was on Tumblr and you were in the kitchen fixing me tea. I remember you pulling my shirt up, me wrapping my legs around you, just in your briefs, saying, "We're just friends right?" and I laughed. I like reading things you write, I like talking about books with you, I like listening to music with you, I like putting my legs on your lap, and you put your arms on my legs, and we watch something on Netflix. I like when you drive so fast I think we'll crash, when the music's so loud we can't talk, my face in the wind, you thinking you're cool or better than everyone, you call everyone in your class an idiot, less than you, and then I mention someone and you said, "No not them." Maybe one day we'll be together, but I doubt it. With things like this, you can't get too hopeful or you ruin them. I learned that with Zach. So I'll just enjoy our friendship and the love you show me. I'll try to better myself, I'll work on what I'm going through, I'll work hard and be good and ask strangers how their day is going because that's how I carry on. I know I won't have you forever, but I'm so glad I do now.

New

I fucking hate you, but I love you.

Don't fuck with me. I will not put up with it. I will get back, always. Clean that up, bitch.