Why do I do that to myself? My thoughts keep ravaging me and I know that soon I have to let them in. "Oh, do you care? I still feel for you" is from a song by Nightwish and it somehow always made me think of Caspian. Never knowing if he's still there or not. I just feel like I've become so full of questions and riddles since I was born here. Like I lost all my answers and now I have to find them again. I don't even know where to look.
And it just bugs me cause I had the answers, I had everything that I've been looking for all my life. People sometimes tend to ask themselves, questions like, which would be worse, never having had something or having had it and then lose it? To me, the latter has always been worse cause it hurts more. To know what you've lost. I still wouldn't wish it away though, never really.
But I know that I have, in extreme outbursts of frustration over exactly everything, wished all of my memories away. Cause having them has been such a burden. But it's also, truly been a blessing. When I tell other people about Dala, the few that can even remotely trust a word I say, always seem to be happy for my sake, that I got to experience that. While I only half am, half hopelessly bitter over what I lost.
I've never known how to handle that pain. And sometimes it just screws with me. Makes me believe in things that aren't true and wish for things that I don't want. It's like... perhaps a bad likeness to it, but when some people are in a lot of physical pain they wish they were dead. Cause they think that would be the only thing that could stop the pain, but they don't really want to die. Like that, sort of, it's been for me when that pain of missing everything before Earth became overwhelming I just wished that I didn't have to remember cause then I believed that was the only thing that could take that pain away.
It's not an actual wish, it's not what I really want. But pain suffocates, it crushes and snuffs out hope. If it gets bad enough, I guess. And I'm talking all kinds of pain hitting its peak and beyond it, physical, mental, soul pain and what more there could be. I've only experienced those three, and they're all different. All have they at one point or another thrown me over the edge. I know pain, I guess we're old friends from the future.
So far I've noticed as much, Y, and maybe you've noticed too, that I let you without much of a complaint. I know it's part of you guiding me, on the way where I'm heading. And I realise it's a burden for you too, I know you have a lot of weight on your shoulders. Why do you think I keep reminding you of your strength? Much of that strength lies in your love, and the magic that you also possess. We suffer together, and apart. Yes, I suppose we will see what might be in store for us. I'm pretty certain it's something, but exactly what I do not know.
"I know my great despair is yet to come" is from the same song and I apply that to my life somehow. I've felt it for so long now, that something keeps asking me "do you think you know despair? You haven't known enough of it" every time something awful happens. Like I've just seen a little bit of it, but the biggest wave hasn't yet hit me. Those words don't literally come to me like a voice or a thought, it's more of a feeling than anything else.
I cannot cry for my past anymore. Not the distant and not the long distant one. The feelings have all turned to a numbness I can't otherwise explain, than as having simply been too overwhelming for too long. I cried my teens away, I cried my childhood away. But sometime in my early to mid twenties, which really wasn't that long ago, so let's just say a couple to a few years ago - the tears dried and I have not been able to cry. Not real tears. I do sometimes, once, maybe twice a year at most.
Maybe I've realised how pointless crying is, that it only hurts more afterwards, and brings more emptiness. I cannot explain why I recently cry at school though, other than that I'm constantly on the edge there, often starved and too cold for comfort, stressed out and exhausted beyond what I can handle. So I crumble, almost without noticing it. Here, at home, I never can cry. But I still never feel safe, not anywhere, not even here, not even with my family.
My fears still haunt me day and night, sometimes more intensively than other times. Sometimes it hits me at 2:00 am as if it was a big surprise and other times it hits me at 2:00 pm and it actually is a surprise. But mostly they just linger, those fears, following me around like an extra shadow. We were told today, at class, to imagine our lives without fears or worries. I couldn't. Instead I wrote half a page about how I'm scared of my entire life and most things in it and how can I imagine something I've never experienced?
Sometimes school makes me think deeper than I'm comfortable with right then and there. The others, they're always so positive despite their hardship and I know, that in most cases that only happens to people who have once known a better life than misery. What about people like me then? I can't be the only one who's never known a better life. I never fell into darkness, I was already in it. That, or it happened so damn early that I was too young to remember it.
I know nothing really causes Asperger in the sense of traumas, but I had pretty severe OCD, extreme phobias and was really a misanthrope before school even started. It really does make me wonder what more memories I could possibly have suppressed. I just get the feeling that something must have happened when I was around 3, 4 or 5 years old. But I can't for the life of me remember anything. Not even glimpses or the fraction of a glimpse.
My memories from that time are very few and far between. They're mostly good or half bad, nothing exactly extreme. I was a bit bullied and misunderstood at daycare and I was scared of everyone who was angry. At me, someone else or in general. Always scared whenever there was anger in the air. Maybe that's strange, I don't know. If it is, then I could possibly think in the direction of my father. I know it was his anger outbursts that made me scared of anger in general. But somehow I do have a difficult time actually blaming him for doing anything. If he did, I don't think it was on purpose, whatever it could have been.
The only possible such early trauma-ish thing I can think of, by the way, is that apparently I fell out of the baby carriage at one time and hit my chin on asphalt, it happened when I was just a few months old or so. I obviously don't have a memory of it but I do have a scar. The oldest scar on my entire body, and it's still there, although now kinda hidden in beard. Not that I try to hide it though, I have no reason to.
But could that have traumatised me? I wonder. No, I hardly think that would be enough to make me into the disturbed child that I became. It's a bit like, I sometimes don't know what came first, in a sense. The damage or the traumas. I was already damaged, but then I got tramautised or if it was the other way around and it just continued. I guess my latest trauma was the rape in 2007 but then there have been smaller ones after that, or how to put it. Like literally flooding my first apartment in 2010 and getting evicted was in a way, kinda traumatising too.
That's by the way, a very good example as to why I am incapable of having my own apartment away from my parents' aid... I literally flooded the damn place because of a phobia of mine. That I can't fix the drain. I can barely even stand on it when I shower. And apparently the helpers (sort of like the staff here but they were not connected to the apartment) that were supposed to help me from such things as getting evicted, obviously couldn't either.
It sometimes slips my mind, that event. Maybe parts of my subconscious doesn't want me thinking about it too much. That happened in November or if it was December 2010. I was a mess and had just dragged myself into alcohol addiction and as I used to describe it back then "I hit the wall but just kept on running" and then that happened.
So, on a somewhat positive note, I've been pretty trauma free since I moved to this horrible island. I don't want stable, I don't want comfort and I don't even think I like being trauma free either. It's a fact that still remains that I purposefully hurt myself in ways you wouldn't possibly understand. The general you. I think, even though it's beyond what I can understand myself even, that I'm trying to deliberately traumatise myself even further. But it doesn't even work that way.
You can't cause yourself such pain, that insane amount of pain, with razors, booze or being in the wrong company. If I don't think I have enough problems, I create some more. Sometimes when I've been fairly stable for a while it bores me or something in me just snaps eventually and I deliberately start messing with my sleep, start cutting again, or relapse into my eating disorder. I can't stand being stable. I don't even know for sure why I'm doing it, but a theory of mine is that I just find some kind of comfort in being extremely uncomfortable.
I close my eyes as I light my cigarette to avoid getting smoke in them, and feel pain behind them somehow. As if I only notice the shatter when I can't see anything. I'm so used to it, yet it keeps on reminding me of how awful it is. I think I do need to be reminded of it and almost realising that I want that as well. I love my suffering as much as I hate it. Embrace it as much as I used to cut, drink or starve it away. And maybe I just want to believe that if I can fully embrace it, it can't do me any harm, or it will completely destroy me as I let it. I want to believe it but I don't. Not yet at least.
Perhaps that day will come, perhaps all of my beliefs will shatter into nothingness. They all crumble, I feel it as though the ground is shaking. And I think I need to shake it some more to see what will survive the shock. Only then, I could allow myself to truly believe in anything again. Once I know what is strong enough to hold my weight. The weight of my mind and soul. But until then everything remains as possibilities, or I try to see them as such because literally nothing holds me.
I don't think beliefs are supposed to carry you through life, they're supposed to walk by your side or possibly give you a slight nudge from behind from time to time. And I've always loved the simplicity behind the idea of belief as something that could carry you, something to entirely lean on at all times. But I've always known (yet resisted it) that the only one who can carry me is myself. But part of why I've resisted it, is because I can't carry myself.
And it's funny how I all through my life have been trying to find random things to lean on, just like I did in my early childhood when I learned how to walk. But as far as metaphors go, I actually did let go eventually and did learn to walk on my own. I feel as though I'm getting down deeper now and I'm not resisting it. All I needed was to breathe a little for a day before I could dive again. I'm not done yet, but as for now, my words are coming to an end.
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