Fireworks
So, there have been mild explosions and possibly a rather huge one coming.
I've been working too hard so they transfered me. I've been up since three this morning having panic attacks and wishing I was anywhere but in this time and place.
But, not wanting to die. How insane is that?
It's so emo and teenage but I have to say it anyway. I have legitimatly wanted to be dead since I was thirteen. Not 'wah my life is so hard I with i was dead -but not really-", but a very serious need to cease my existance on this little rock and face whatever judgement or afterward comes beyond being lowered into the ground. I felt that nothingness would be better than the noise in my brain. And it has taken blood, sweat and tears (and not just my own) to keep me from that path. It's been talked about here; you know. I don't believe in things like true love conquering all, or in a magic wishing star that will take away the things that lead up to wanting to die. I don't believe some grandfatherly diety is going to pat my head and save the day, and I don't believe in letting myself start feeling that those things could help me even if they were true.
I really have never believed in myself, either. I've always been of the mind that this is my soul and it's stuck somewhere it shouldn't be - in a body that's too slow, too stupid, too fat, ugly, sluggish, inept, clumsy, naive. I've been so afraid. I've hated myself. I've loved the wrong things and the wrong people. I've let people take advatage of me, if only to have them pretend they care. I've hated me, have thought myself the ruiner of lives, have known that I wasn't good enough for anything.
This weekend was the first time in a long time I didn't want to die. I wanted to live. And to keep living for a long time. I liked myself. I justified my existance through the knowledge that I made another human being feel good. Feel safe. Feel like they weren't all alone. Not true-love-conquers-all, not by any means. But to look at myself through the eyes of someone else, someone who thought 'she's alright', and to say 'I am'. And to know I want them to keep feeling that I'm alright, and to keep feeling that they aren't alone. And to know they want something similar.
That is really a place where I'd like to be full-time.
So I might lose my job today. I might just throw the world for a loop. I might not be passive and let the powers that be walk all over my heart and let my bosses continue to abuse my good nature, which you never see here, but rest assured, I put up with an awful lot of bullshit in that place.
I don't want to appologize for being alive anymore. I want to hold onto something good and as much as it might suck situationally, I want to know that in the grand scheme it is made of magic.
I have, incidentally, always believed in magic.
This weekend I think I might have actually found it, in a most unexpected place.
I keep swearing and crying and laughing and grinning and possibly I am going insane. Or, possibly, my magic is starting and it's not earthshaking or groundbreaking or huge; it's tiny and self absorbed and it won't change the world.
But I think whatever happens now it has changed me. I owe a debt so huge to Allan, and to Ron, both of you just for existing in a space where I existed, and for letting me share with you. I owe my life to Courtney and to Alex. And I owe this feeling right now to an indifferent asshole, and I should thank him, though he'll never read this, for letting me be a caustic bitch. If anything, knowing that those two terms can be terms of endearment pushes me that much closer to thinking I might be suited to care about someone after all.
I've been working too hard so they transfered me. I've been up since three this morning having panic attacks and wishing I was anywhere but in this time and place.
But, not wanting to die. How insane is that?
It's so emo and teenage but I have to say it anyway. I have legitimatly wanted to be dead since I was thirteen. Not 'wah my life is so hard I with i was dead -but not really-", but a very serious need to cease my existance on this little rock and face whatever judgement or afterward comes beyond being lowered into the ground. I felt that nothingness would be better than the noise in my brain. And it has taken blood, sweat and tears (and not just my own) to keep me from that path. It's been talked about here; you know. I don't believe in things like true love conquering all, or in a magic wishing star that will take away the things that lead up to wanting to die. I don't believe some grandfatherly diety is going to pat my head and save the day, and I don't believe in letting myself start feeling that those things could help me even if they were true.
I really have never believed in myself, either. I've always been of the mind that this is my soul and it's stuck somewhere it shouldn't be - in a body that's too slow, too stupid, too fat, ugly, sluggish, inept, clumsy, naive. I've been so afraid. I've hated myself. I've loved the wrong things and the wrong people. I've let people take advatage of me, if only to have them pretend they care. I've hated me, have thought myself the ruiner of lives, have known that I wasn't good enough for anything.
This weekend was the first time in a long time I didn't want to die. I wanted to live. And to keep living for a long time. I liked myself. I justified my existance through the knowledge that I made another human being feel good. Feel safe. Feel like they weren't all alone. Not true-love-conquers-all, not by any means. But to look at myself through the eyes of someone else, someone who thought 'she's alright', and to say 'I am'. And to know I want them to keep feeling that I'm alright, and to keep feeling that they aren't alone. And to know they want something similar.
That is really a place where I'd like to be full-time.
So I might lose my job today. I might just throw the world for a loop. I might not be passive and let the powers that be walk all over my heart and let my bosses continue to abuse my good nature, which you never see here, but rest assured, I put up with an awful lot of bullshit in that place.
I don't want to appologize for being alive anymore. I want to hold onto something good and as much as it might suck situationally, I want to know that in the grand scheme it is made of magic.
I have, incidentally, always believed in magic.
This weekend I think I might have actually found it, in a most unexpected place.
I keep swearing and crying and laughing and grinning and possibly I am going insane. Or, possibly, my magic is starting and it's not earthshaking or groundbreaking or huge; it's tiny and self absorbed and it won't change the world.
But I think whatever happens now it has changed me. I owe a debt so huge to Allan, and to Ron, both of you just for existing in a space where I existed, and for letting me share with you. I owe my life to Courtney and to Alex. And I owe this feeling right now to an indifferent asshole, and I should thank him, though he'll never read this, for letting me be a caustic bitch. If anything, knowing that those two terms can be terms of endearment pushes me that much closer to thinking I might be suited to care about someone after all.