(no subject)
Is it ironic if I never write anything in here that's supposed to be seen by other people? I think (though this will no doubt not be the case) that there might be a slight holocaust of journal entries if anyone is to find out about this silly little thing. Which would be odd since I'm going to be addressing this mostly to you the reader. Actually, as I alluded to earlier, that will no doubt not be the case because I doubt I will put anything down into words that is not already publicly known (or at least freely available in gossip or from my mouth if you've the inclination). That said, let's begin with some fun stuff.
It would appear that I am really bad at this whole friendship thing. I seem to develop friends one at a time, get incredibly close (romantic status notwithstanding) and proceed to dominate or disappear from a person's life. I make them like me to some incredible degree. I guess it feels good to be in power like that. So if you're one of those people to whom I talk to from time to time, I doubt we will be much more than casual acquaintances unless there is some chance of being actually important in your life. Sorry all you with a Y chromosome, that excludes you pretty well. It is nice when I ease myself into someone's life as their boyfriend (from 800 miles away over the phone) and see them over christmas break, and about a week in they realize that they really should talk to their old purported "twin" the night before their joint birthday party. Something about a month of selfless honesty, vulnerability and philanthropy really gets to people apparently. Who knew.
I suppose I have to rant now. Not that that's a good segue, but I really don't like (it's like hate but without the anger) selfish people. This includes (but is not limited to) snot nosed kids over christmas, people who think they're the center of the universe, people who value the sound of their voice over the continuity of the conversation, people who do stupid things for attention, people who hurt themselves as some kind of penance (which is me to some degree...more on this later), and people who value their wellbeing over the wellbeing of a group. Obviously that's wellbeing of the individual to a point. Not wanting to die is a perfectly valid reason to not value the group. Excuse me if I think I'm more valuable alive than enlisted.
But back to self mutilation. So, there are some things that bother me about it, at least about the planned kind of way. I too have been there, I too have felt the need to suffer for my "crimes" or felt the need to suffer for "what I've done", (and I've done some amazing things, some amazingly untraceable things thankfully, or my criminal record would be extensive to say the least, nevermind the fact that this all happened in middle school and I would still be serving time, even tried as a child), but I kicked the stupidity a long time ago. I no longer hurt myself, and I do try my best not to hurt those around me, though I can't always promise that much (you know who you are). I can understand things that don't leave marks, but cutting? Ironically I've done an incredible job of surrounding myself with cutters and friends of cutters at school. I think among my friends (all 5 of them), I have 3 cutters (+1 ex cutter), 2 anorexics (+1 ex), 4 who think they're fat, an alcoholic (and at least one who would be if given then chance), and one who is so socially clueless that his english accent bypasses everything else. And that's not even getting at my neuroses. It is wonderful to know that my inner circle is filled by such fucked up members of society.
Which is not to say that they're unintelligent. Ironically the exact opposite is the case. In my experience intelligence is kind of required for neuroses, at least of the mutilatey kind, the only thing that separates the haters and the normal people is time. Time spent thinking. With extra time comes extra guilt (because trust me, intelligent people can and will be guilty for everything if given the chance), with extra intelligence comes courage or cold calculation (or a mix of the two), and with those come inventive methods of self punishment. If nothing else, these people are far far more intelligent than I am, one of them is downright brilliant sometimes, and he/she is probably the most closeted about his/her practices. The only one intelligent enough to pick somewhere no one ever has to see.
It is kind of interesting to look at my friends and wonder how much of what they say is just hot air. Because I know I spout sometimes, because old habits die hard, and it's fun to ponder the claims and propositions my friends make from time to time. Like one of them offered to fight me, well, would they really? I don't really know. Hopefully I'll never really have to find out, if only because I'm afraid of what would happen to me or them, because I'm very much out of practice. It's been too many years since I've actually fought someone.
Scary thing is that I still react like I can. Interesting happenenings just before christmas, I was semi assaulted for some cheezits, and my body reacted as if it was england all over again. I started seeing where to connect my extremities (elbows work best, though knees will do in a pinch) to vital areas, anything to just get them off. It really kind of scared me. I thought I was beyond that long ago. If anyone in the group actually cared that I then disappeared for the rest of the evening (other than the one who came to see me, thanks much), I was too busy sequestering myself before I hurt someone. I know the hairtrigger feeling I was infused with at that moment. I can just see it, someone completely unrelated says something completely innocent and actually not insulting, but I take it as an insult and do my absolute best to send them to hospital. Just like the good old days. Those were the days.
Even as I'm writing I'm remembering, remembering not only the past but why I promised myself I'd never remember it in the first place. My eyes widen, my nostrils flare, my muscles tense, and I get hot. Oh so hot. Bright bright flaming red, in the most demonic of fashions. Apparently my eyes fill with something similar to the flaming appearance of my skin tone, but I don't really know, they just look like my eyes to me. Maybe that's why I move my eyes around so much in such unreadable ways, I'm afraid of what will be found.
Is it still there? Living inside of me, constantly wanting out, is that old me still there? I haven't had an episode in so long, so very long, granted it's been close a couple times, but it's been almost a month. A sweet month where I can actually remember everything I did from start to finish. No hour long blank spaces, no hateful glares I can't account for. As I said, beautiful. All in all, college is turning out great. Apart from one bad grade, for which I take full responsibilty (it wasn't the teacher), I have a really nice GPA, I'm actually learning and growing, I've made friends for the first time in my life (who I know won't be more than a friend), I'm maturing (holy homosexual overtones batman!), and I'm independant. Much to my parents disgust ^_^.
That's all for now dearest unlucky reader,
I shall continue some time in the future,
I intend this thing to have a complete listing of my misdeeds so if someone ever wants to compare...
Yours faithfully,
Rutters.
It would appear that I am really bad at this whole friendship thing. I seem to develop friends one at a time, get incredibly close (romantic status notwithstanding) and proceed to dominate or disappear from a person's life. I make them like me to some incredible degree. I guess it feels good to be in power like that. So if you're one of those people to whom I talk to from time to time, I doubt we will be much more than casual acquaintances unless there is some chance of being actually important in your life. Sorry all you with a Y chromosome, that excludes you pretty well. It is nice when I ease myself into someone's life as their boyfriend (from 800 miles away over the phone) and see them over christmas break, and about a week in they realize that they really should talk to their old purported "twin" the night before their joint birthday party. Something about a month of selfless honesty, vulnerability and philanthropy really gets to people apparently. Who knew.
I suppose I have to rant now. Not that that's a good segue, but I really don't like (it's like hate but without the anger) selfish people. This includes (but is not limited to) snot nosed kids over christmas, people who think they're the center of the universe, people who value the sound of their voice over the continuity of the conversation, people who do stupid things for attention, people who hurt themselves as some kind of penance (which is me to some degree...more on this later), and people who value their wellbeing over the wellbeing of a group. Obviously that's wellbeing of the individual to a point. Not wanting to die is a perfectly valid reason to not value the group. Excuse me if I think I'm more valuable alive than enlisted.
But back to self mutilation. So, there are some things that bother me about it, at least about the planned kind of way. I too have been there, I too have felt the need to suffer for my "crimes" or felt the need to suffer for "what I've done", (and I've done some amazing things, some amazingly untraceable things thankfully, or my criminal record would be extensive to say the least, nevermind the fact that this all happened in middle school and I would still be serving time, even tried as a child), but I kicked the stupidity a long time ago. I no longer hurt myself, and I do try my best not to hurt those around me, though I can't always promise that much (you know who you are). I can understand things that don't leave marks, but cutting? Ironically I've done an incredible job of surrounding myself with cutters and friends of cutters at school. I think among my friends (all 5 of them), I have 3 cutters (+1 ex cutter), 2 anorexics (+1 ex), 4 who think they're fat, an alcoholic (and at least one who would be if given then chance), and one who is so socially clueless that his english accent bypasses everything else. And that's not even getting at my neuroses. It is wonderful to know that my inner circle is filled by such fucked up members of society.
Which is not to say that they're unintelligent. Ironically the exact opposite is the case. In my experience intelligence is kind of required for neuroses, at least of the mutilatey kind, the only thing that separates the haters and the normal people is time. Time spent thinking. With extra time comes extra guilt (because trust me, intelligent people can and will be guilty for everything if given the chance), with extra intelligence comes courage or cold calculation (or a mix of the two), and with those come inventive methods of self punishment. If nothing else, these people are far far more intelligent than I am, one of them is downright brilliant sometimes, and he/she is probably the most closeted about his/her practices. The only one intelligent enough to pick somewhere no one ever has to see.
It is kind of interesting to look at my friends and wonder how much of what they say is just hot air. Because I know I spout sometimes, because old habits die hard, and it's fun to ponder the claims and propositions my friends make from time to time. Like one of them offered to fight me, well, would they really? I don't really know. Hopefully I'll never really have to find out, if only because I'm afraid of what would happen to me or them, because I'm very much out of practice. It's been too many years since I've actually fought someone.
Scary thing is that I still react like I can. Interesting happenenings just before christmas, I was semi assaulted for some cheezits, and my body reacted as if it was england all over again. I started seeing where to connect my extremities (elbows work best, though knees will do in a pinch) to vital areas, anything to just get them off. It really kind of scared me. I thought I was beyond that long ago. If anyone in the group actually cared that I then disappeared for the rest of the evening (other than the one who came to see me, thanks much), I was too busy sequestering myself before I hurt someone. I know the hairtrigger feeling I was infused with at that moment. I can just see it, someone completely unrelated says something completely innocent and actually not insulting, but I take it as an insult and do my absolute best to send them to hospital. Just like the good old days. Those were the days.
Even as I'm writing I'm remembering, remembering not only the past but why I promised myself I'd never remember it in the first place. My eyes widen, my nostrils flare, my muscles tense, and I get hot. Oh so hot. Bright bright flaming red, in the most demonic of fashions. Apparently my eyes fill with something similar to the flaming appearance of my skin tone, but I don't really know, they just look like my eyes to me. Maybe that's why I move my eyes around so much in such unreadable ways, I'm afraid of what will be found.
Is it still there? Living inside of me, constantly wanting out, is that old me still there? I haven't had an episode in so long, so very long, granted it's been close a couple times, but it's been almost a month. A sweet month where I can actually remember everything I did from start to finish. No hour long blank spaces, no hateful glares I can't account for. As I said, beautiful. All in all, college is turning out great. Apart from one bad grade, for which I take full responsibilty (it wasn't the teacher), I have a really nice GPA, I'm actually learning and growing, I've made friends for the first time in my life (who I know won't be more than a friend), I'm maturing (holy homosexual overtones batman!), and I'm independant. Much to my parents disgust ^_^.
That's all for now dearest unlucky reader,
I shall continue some time in the future,
I intend this thing to have a complete listing of my misdeeds so if someone ever wants to compare...
Yours faithfully,
Rutters.