**Be careful, this ended up having very little to do with the last year in the usual narrative sense. It is still pertinent, but a little messy, read with caution. =) **
Where to begin…
It seems as though as my life passes away it runs underneath a giant roller about a week behind me. It is crushed and for the most part wiped from the field of memory. I do not have true memories of my good times or bad times, just stories that I have written in my mind that seem to be true. The stories are empty; there is no real pleasure or pain in them. Such is the last year. There are a few chunks that were not completely destroyed, but they have no meaning.
I remember when I first got here that I was excited and frightened. Over my final year in high school I had begun to climb out of the dark morass that was my experience of the world and I thought that I could hold it off here. Back home I had people who have come to rely on me, but I cannot recall how I ever became involved with them. I felt like if I could break through the surface and begin to develop some relationships with people, then I could hold my own. The problem is always in the breaking through. I do not like to impose on people and I don’t trust my ability to see whether or not I am enough to push the boundaries of a relationship deeper. I feel almost like a turtle sometimes; I can come out and bask in the sun if I want to, but I am not willing to do so if I don’t feel welcome. I just cut the feelings off and don’t feel them. I hate doing it, but I hate using people as well, or at the least causing pain through my selfishness.
I have been cleaning out my e-mail here at the end and I can still see many things there. I have everything. Its like in my room, I am the ultimate packrat, I don’t exactly dislike throwing things away, but I will not do so without a really good reason. I am not talking about important things, I am talking about food containers and trash. I like to hold onto little things that remind me of the past.
Yes, I do realize that I am off topic, I’m going back now. It all seems like it is chunks in a pot. Things three weeks ago feel as old as things last year. It is nearly impossible for me to saw that this person was here for this and this person was here for that. It all feels like Will, there is no feeling of progression or flow. I do not feel static though, unless my permanence is in weakness, I do not feel like I am a strong person or that I have any values that I stand by. I just do whatever I feel like at the time, and even more than that I can’t think of anything that ‘rouses strong enough feelings in me to warrant working for.
Topic, what topic… For a while I felt like I could dedicate myself to the becoming a better person, serving God, striving for a more complete personality, integrated whole, enlightenment, whatever… I don’t see why anymore. I don’t feel like I am getting anywhere at the moment and I can’t recall any things that have really changed in the core of Will that exists under all of the moods and attitudes and ideas and lies. I do not understand why I want to get to know this guy? This I have been fighting for a while; if I could get a life of pleasure and satisfaction of some sort at the price of my depth, would I take it? I don’t have any good reason why not; I don’t feel like the decision makes the least it of difference to anyone but myself and I must say that I don’t find the life that I have all that enjoyable anyway. It seems like all the satisfaction that I find now is stolen in brief moments of delusion and deception. When I look at the world with my “real” eyes it just hurts my heart. I think that I want to be whole or at least not realize that I am not, that is the only end that I desire, screw the journey.
I dealt this year more and more with separation. First it was more on the outside with simply talking to people and gradually it moved inward. I would get a little further in and then that wouldn’t be enough anymore. I found that I was covering over large quantities of pain (surprise, surprise) because I did not want to burden other people with it and risk becoming unattractive. I like to laugh and I like to see other people laugh and smile, but eventually I hated seeing the happiness on other’s faces. I wanted to scream out that I hated it all, but I still can’t figure out what exactly it is. I feel like I always exist on the outsides of groups. In the ranks of friends there are friends and there are people who you cherish. I feel like I am always out a little bit from the center, the second degree of separation as it likes to be called. I have some people who I feel like I can talk to, but much of the time it feels like talking about love to a ten year old. Sure you know what the word love means, but the idea is so less than it is over here. I try to find the words at those times to convey my darkest heart, but if they exist I cannot find them. I can’t look at a caring face when I am trying to do this. “Yes I understand; I know the feeling””If you even think about this feeling it washes over you and fills you choking you. If you feel this feeling then you cannot look at me with those caring eyes; if you feel this feeling then you should be throwing up.” It feels so cheap. Just for a moment I would like to swap and know if it is the same, because I cannot think of any other way to know.
I think that I will be wrapping this up now. If I clench my teeth any longer, then I think that they are going to break. 96-97 wasn’t horrible or awful; I would do it much the same if given the choice, there are much jollier things that I have to write about like sex and religion and responsibility, but my hearts not in it right now, so I think I will leave them for another day.
"I do not know myself, and God forbid that I should."
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
"Man is but a reed, the weakest thing in nature,
but he is a thinking reed."
- Blaise Pascal