Take Me At Face Value... I'll Never Fake Another Smile Again
I'm incapable of faking anything anymore.
An old friend of mine directed me to his livejournal in an attempt to explain how he was feeling. I feel like I'm about to cry. While obviously different events have transpired in both of our lives, there are still similar feelings going on in my heart and very similar thoughts running through my head.
Not about everything. Like I said, different lives, different events.
But still, the tone of his post... made me feel like someone ripped out my own insides and at least got the right FEEL for them. I haven't really felt like anyone's gotten that in awhile.
I'm sure hardly anyone will read this... If anyone even reads it at all. It could be that this particular post, and those that come after it, are just cries out to cyber space that were never really meant to be read in the first place...and will sit here archived but untouched after they were first typed out.
Regardless, it's still nice to have a few places I can go to remember... and muse and ponder and theorize without the risk of losing it to the waste basket or an overly playful dog who likes to munch paper or the mess that is my box of old spiral notebooks.
In truth, I am horrified by so many things I have written on so many journals. I've said so many things I shouldn't have... I daresay I even regret... and yet I refuse to delete them. It seems that in this new age full of blogs and webcams and youtube posts, to delete is to forget. To post is to CREATE a memory.
It's depressing, really, especially since I've always valued my ability to remember the strangest, most random things. Remember them with my BRAIN... not my blogs.
My life has taken several very unexpected twists... some of which I caused without really thinking about the consequences. Had I know some of these decisions would've changed everything so dramatically, I'm not sure I would have taken them... but at this point it seems like regretting them would only make it worse, so I refuse to even think about whether or not I regret them.
There are a few major life events that have forced me to evolve… and I’m still reeling and trying to find my footing here.
There’s starting school, which completely demolished any friend base I really had, with the exception of a very few people. There’s my relationship… which has all the appearances of being permanent… and the startling realization that fairy tale romances don’t exist and the movies and TV have been lying to all of us. Then comes the even more shocking discovery that I don’t NEED all of those things I’ve always thought I needed… and I don’t even want them anymore. I have everything I need in this one individual and I don’t even feel the need to ever look for anything more than what I have.
The decision to rid myself of all of the people who are still stuck in the pretend world of high school… who refuse to grow up… who still play their stupid games and act out their stupid dramas… who lie and cheat and steal because it makes things ‘interesting.’ Who make up their own worlds so they don’t have to suck it up and deal with reality. Who live in those worlds entirely and refuse to ever grow up… It’s like Peter Pan… only it’s not a story and it’s infinitely sadder than a fairytale. It just hurts too much to watch now… and I can’t play along anymore.
There’s my official psychiatric diagnosis. I am a Bipolar who also has periods of intense rapid cycling every few months. I made the decision to go on meds to control it because of how severe this disorder is for me. It’s not a mild case. It will be a struggle for the rest of my life.
Then there’s the search for my biological family… all of whom I have found. With the search and discovery as well as a continuing relationship with most of them comes a Pandora’s Box of conflicting emotions and racing thoughts… Guilt, excitement, pain, confusion, extreme periods of uncontrollable giddiness, an overwhelming sense of loss and just emotional soreness… and being stuck perpetually in limbo between what is and what could’ve been and the fact that I don’t really fit in with any family I now have.
I feel like I’m dying inside… like I just have too many emotions to even live anymore… the only thing that keeps me going right now is school… because the practice rooms are the only place I can go and just be completely myself… I don’t have to hide from the music. I can pour myself completely into it… live and breath through it… scream through it, cry through it, laugh through it… it’s like I die and am reborn every time I touch the keys of the piano in one of those hot, stuffy little rooms.
A six-foot-by-six-foot moldy old room with a piano stuck in it has become my sanctuary. My religion. My house of worship. Those many hours spent there are the only time my spirit actually feels free from all of the grief that life comes with.
I’m generally an A student… with a few B’s stuck in randomly. I finally have something to be proud of… and something that is capable of completely distracting me from anything else in my life. A goal that is finally WORTH working for.
It’s given me back something that was stolen from me so long ago. Respect of Self. That’s worth more than anything I’ve ever found in my 25 years of living.
An old friend of mine directed me to his livejournal in an attempt to explain how he was feeling. I feel like I'm about to cry. While obviously different events have transpired in both of our lives, there are still similar feelings going on in my heart and very similar thoughts running through my head.
Not about everything. Like I said, different lives, different events.
But still, the tone of his post... made me feel like someone ripped out my own insides and at least got the right FEEL for them. I haven't really felt like anyone's gotten that in awhile.
I'm sure hardly anyone will read this... If anyone even reads it at all. It could be that this particular post, and those that come after it, are just cries out to cyber space that were never really meant to be read in the first place...and will sit here archived but untouched after they were first typed out.
Regardless, it's still nice to have a few places I can go to remember... and muse and ponder and theorize without the risk of losing it to the waste basket or an overly playful dog who likes to munch paper or the mess that is my box of old spiral notebooks.
In truth, I am horrified by so many things I have written on so many journals. I've said so many things I shouldn't have... I daresay I even regret... and yet I refuse to delete them. It seems that in this new age full of blogs and webcams and youtube posts, to delete is to forget. To post is to CREATE a memory.
It's depressing, really, especially since I've always valued my ability to remember the strangest, most random things. Remember them with my BRAIN... not my blogs.
My life has taken several very unexpected twists... some of which I caused without really thinking about the consequences. Had I know some of these decisions would've changed everything so dramatically, I'm not sure I would have taken them... but at this point it seems like regretting them would only make it worse, so I refuse to even think about whether or not I regret them.
There are a few major life events that have forced me to evolve… and I’m still reeling and trying to find my footing here.
There’s starting school, which completely demolished any friend base I really had, with the exception of a very few people. There’s my relationship… which has all the appearances of being permanent… and the startling realization that fairy tale romances don’t exist and the movies and TV have been lying to all of us. Then comes the even more shocking discovery that I don’t NEED all of those things I’ve always thought I needed… and I don’t even want them anymore. I have everything I need in this one individual and I don’t even feel the need to ever look for anything more than what I have.
The decision to rid myself of all of the people who are still stuck in the pretend world of high school… who refuse to grow up… who still play their stupid games and act out their stupid dramas… who lie and cheat and steal because it makes things ‘interesting.’ Who make up their own worlds so they don’t have to suck it up and deal with reality. Who live in those worlds entirely and refuse to ever grow up… It’s like Peter Pan… only it’s not a story and it’s infinitely sadder than a fairytale. It just hurts too much to watch now… and I can’t play along anymore.
There’s my official psychiatric diagnosis. I am a Bipolar who also has periods of intense rapid cycling every few months. I made the decision to go on meds to control it because of how severe this disorder is for me. It’s not a mild case. It will be a struggle for the rest of my life.
Then there’s the search for my biological family… all of whom I have found. With the search and discovery as well as a continuing relationship with most of them comes a Pandora’s Box of conflicting emotions and racing thoughts… Guilt, excitement, pain, confusion, extreme periods of uncontrollable giddiness, an overwhelming sense of loss and just emotional soreness… and being stuck perpetually in limbo between what is and what could’ve been and the fact that I don’t really fit in with any family I now have.
I feel like I’m dying inside… like I just have too many emotions to even live anymore… the only thing that keeps me going right now is school… because the practice rooms are the only place I can go and just be completely myself… I don’t have to hide from the music. I can pour myself completely into it… live and breath through it… scream through it, cry through it, laugh through it… it’s like I die and am reborn every time I touch the keys of the piano in one of those hot, stuffy little rooms.
A six-foot-by-six-foot moldy old room with a piano stuck in it has become my sanctuary. My religion. My house of worship. Those many hours spent there are the only time my spirit actually feels free from all of the grief that life comes with.
I’m generally an A student… with a few B’s stuck in randomly. I finally have something to be proud of… and something that is capable of completely distracting me from anything else in my life. A goal that is finally WORTH working for.
It’s given me back something that was stolen from me so long ago. Respect of Self. That’s worth more than anything I’ve ever found in my 25 years of living.