(no subject)
sometimes, to define myself and my physical boundaries, i need to write -- even if i have next to nothing to say. i have trouble putting my thoughts into words anymore. or maybe it's that i'm not trying, which could easily be the case. this summer has mostly been about absolutely nothing so far. i've written absolutely squat, i've read 1 book (oryx and crake by margaret atwood) for a class next semester, and i've had at least three semi-good cries.
today i had to go get my brakes checked out, which turned into purchasing two new rotors and expending my entire account, which wasn't that healthy in the first place. i can't pay karina the rent, so i'm going to have to figure something out for next month to make up.
my oldest stepbrother, matt, killed himself on may 23, 2005. i found out on the 26. apparently he shot himself in his car by the river and wasn't found for at least 24 hours. they buried him on my birthday and my mom spared me the news until the next day. he was 27 years old, just like kurt cobain. i always associated matt with nirvana and kurt. matt was the first older kid i ever had the pleasure of spending time with. he was one of my first similarly-aged role model. he was also the only one of my three stepbrothers that considered and treated me like a real sister, and i loved him a lot. i didn't realize how much i cared about him, to be honest. i know i've said some things about him and generalized him with his other two brothers as a loser, but i know now that he was only as much of a loser as i am. he was an un-medicated bipolar and a father of two beautiful boys. his wife is a waste of a human being. when everything gets quiet around me and i don't even hear the silence, i cry because matt is so far away. and i cry when i feel like he's right beside me. i think this will hurt for a long time.
and i'm sad. i don't know if it's natural grief or a malfunction in the meds, but i see my pdoc on the 9th. and i see bright eyes on the 1st. but i'm really depressed, whether it's natural or not, and i'm having trouble lifting my head above the fog that's crept in on me in the past two weeks.
every thing i feel like complaining about just seems so insignificant, and so does everything i find myself doing or trying to talk myself into doing. but i don't feel hopeless, because i've been there but that's not where i am yet. i hope i don't get there again. i think that if i just wait this out, things have to get better. i'm trying.
today i had to go get my brakes checked out, which turned into purchasing two new rotors and expending my entire account, which wasn't that healthy in the first place. i can't pay karina the rent, so i'm going to have to figure something out for next month to make up.
my oldest stepbrother, matt, killed himself on may 23, 2005. i found out on the 26. apparently he shot himself in his car by the river and wasn't found for at least 24 hours. they buried him on my birthday and my mom spared me the news until the next day. he was 27 years old, just like kurt cobain. i always associated matt with nirvana and kurt. matt was the first older kid i ever had the pleasure of spending time with. he was one of my first similarly-aged role model. he was also the only one of my three stepbrothers that considered and treated me like a real sister, and i loved him a lot. i didn't realize how much i cared about him, to be honest. i know i've said some things about him and generalized him with his other two brothers as a loser, but i know now that he was only as much of a loser as i am. he was an un-medicated bipolar and a father of two beautiful boys. his wife is a waste of a human being. when everything gets quiet around me and i don't even hear the silence, i cry because matt is so far away. and i cry when i feel like he's right beside me. i think this will hurt for a long time.
and i'm sad. i don't know if it's natural grief or a malfunction in the meds, but i see my pdoc on the 9th. and i see bright eyes on the 1st. but i'm really depressed, whether it's natural or not, and i'm having trouble lifting my head above the fog that's crept in on me in the past two weeks.
every thing i feel like complaining about just seems so insignificant, and so does everything i find myself doing or trying to talk myself into doing. but i don't feel hopeless, because i've been there but that's not where i am yet. i hope i don't get there again. i think that if i just wait this out, things have to get better. i'm trying.