?

Log in

Release

Jan. 11th, 2010 | 11:08 pm
mood: angry angry

"You were a fucking crazy asshole, you know that, right?" My hands are gripping my head, stress easily visible as I stare into the sand, frantic eyes. I feel you stiffen, not saying a word. I'm attacking you. I guess this is one of my angry moments. I sort of wish I could hit you. I know if I perseverate on that fact, I'll just get more angry, and I can't handle the anger mixed with sadness right now.

"I didn't even mean to look at those emails. It was a fucking accident. I went to see how far back my emails on my college server went, and there they were. It's so fucking ironic that every time I stumble on this shit, it's an accident at the worst possible moment." I laugh, but my laugh is filled with anger and tension, my stomach knotted, so much I can't even relax it, now that I know it's there. You stare at me, helpless, and feeling like shit. I get some sick satisfaction with that. "Those were... those were sent at a time when things weren't the best."

I laugh again and shaking my head, standing up suddenly, turning to you to glare, pointing my finger accusingly, "Fuck you. You know what that shit does to me now? It's not like it used to be, I'm certainly not crying, but I'm upset. I see those emails now and I know, without a doubt, how goddamn sick you were. I have this utter clarity I know I lacked, and it makes me... shit, it makes me sick. I get physically ill reading this crap." I watch you get angry, defensive of course, shouting back,
"Then why the fuck are you reading it? Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I have to! I want to get out these years of bottled up frustration and hate towards you! I want to have a fucking screaming match with you because I know without a doubt that I'm right! You deleted my GODDAMN livejournal days before I was going to order a hard copy. Do you know what that fucking did to me? Sure, I had excuses for why it didn't matter, but you deleted years of my life. The effect you had on me permeates across years. YEARS. You ingrained yourself into my life, burrowed like a tick, and you left your fucking scar."

My hands are balled into fists, my knuckles turning white, and I can feel my nails digging into my palms so much I'm pretty sure it might start bleeding. My eyes are blurring, tears welling, though from anger and tension, not from any real sadness. Today I'm here with hate. I want no guidance from you, I want release, "You know I haven't had sex with anyone since you? You know why?" I glare, getting closer, yelling still, "Because I feared touching another person. I would tense up at anyone even so much as hugging me or holding my fucking hand. You took what wasn't yours, you scarred my life. My fucking life, you asshole! Do you get that?! Does that sink in?!" My voice is straining, given I'm sick right now anyways, and you get up, taller than I am, but not even slightly intimidating to me right now, "You think I don't know that?! You think I could look back on those letters and be alright? I fucked up, I won't deny that. I did awful, terrible things, and no apology or reparations would ever begin to make up for that shit. I live with that. And I'm not saying that to make you feel bad or anything like that, because you won't, and you shouldn't. I'm saying that because you need to know I suffered, even just a little. I deserved it all."

I'm shaking. My entire body is trembling with rage, heartache, sadness, anger, resentment. I think right now that getting some intense therapy would be a great thing. If she ever tells me to pretend like I'm talking to you, the therapist, I'll bring in these damned journal entries.

"Fuck you." I spit out the words like venom, removing it from my body. I feel no guilt for any pain you have. I feel no consolation for it. I want to erase this from my body and my soul, and I can't. I carry this with me, and I have no idea how to ask for help, or how to ease this burden. All I know is that my back hurts, and I feel so distant from the rest of humanity. Maybe a support group would be great. Maybe I'd just feel even worse. You know me and my emotions. I'm so goddamn logical with everything, it wouldn't work.

And so I turn, walking away from you as fast as I can, moving faster in the sand than I should be. The ocean is dark and terrible today, but I know why. The sky threatens me, and I glare at it, daring it. One more fucking thing I need. One last fucking thing I want.

Link | Leave a comment | Share


Where Pleasantries are Useless

Jan. 2nd, 2010 | 09:55 am
mood: mellow mellow

It's overcast now, where I am. Not to any sort of degree that it would worry me, but enough that it makes the sand my toes are digging in cool. I blink a few times, adjusting to the new scenery, watching the waves crashing further out, slowly making their way up towards where I'm sitting. I can hear birds making noises, the sound of the ocean drowning out my thoughts, so I'm sitting here with peace of mind. I've got an old hoodie on, faded jeans, enough to keep me sufficiently warm while the cool ocean breeze encircles me.

I'd like to say I'm here because I want to be, and I guess that's sort of true. I'm here because I need to talk to you, and it's the only way I know how. I can feel the suddenness of you sitting next to me, without even looking over. I recognize your clothes without even looking, and I remember how your presence comes across. I think you're barefoot too, which only makes sense, because we're on the beach. It's strangely peaceful, looking at the endless, dark waters, knowing that there's nothing in front or behind me, and knowing that I'm pretty alone. I wonder if you're really sitting there, but I remember that it doesn't matter, because as long as I get my point across and ask the questions rolling through my mind, that's what counts.

You glance over at me, waiting, knowing that right now, it's about me. "How are you?" Your voice is calm, and it almost gets lost with the wind, I barely remember what it sounds like. I shrug a bit, letting my hair tangle with the breeze, pushing it from my face, "Fine, I guess." I can feel your smirk, and I roll my eyes, "Half terrible. Half confused." Lying doesn't work here, and I should know that by know. Pleasantries are useless, too. You nod your head a little, understanding entirely, not waiting for me to go on, but simply expecting me to. And so I do. I explain to you my situation, how terribly lost and alone I still feel, how used to being alone I am by now, so much so I'm not sure how to be with someone else.

You wrap your arms around your knees, though not hugging them to yourself, nodding once more, knowing, "No. You do feel alone, and lost, but it's not an unawareness of how to be with others you've got going on. You're just not used to it, and it scares you." I roll my eyes, not looking at you, but understanding what you're saying. I don't like how true it is, "Is it wrong if it takes me another two years before I can be with someone?" You laugh a little; not patronizing me, but mostly because the answer seems so simple, you're surprised I even have to ask. You remember I just need reassurance, "Alix, it might indeed take you three years. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're ready for it, that you do it for yourself, and not to satisfy some urge to be normal. We both know that normalcy doesn't suit you." I can't help but laugh a little, thinking how much better I like your advice now here, on this beach.

It gets quiet again, the reassurance I needed comforting me softly, letting it settle into my bones, letting it permeate my being. And you wait as well, knowing that it's not the only reason I'm here. But you don't press it, no matter how curious you are. I wiggle my toes in the cool sand again, listening to the gulls out in the water, remembering an old memory for a moment before letting it go, "What are you thinking?" I peer over at you from behind my wild hair, out of the corner of my eye, head slightly turned, curious. You don't smile, your face still fairly stoic and thoughtful, "Honestly? I'm not thinking of anything. I'm just here." The words make sense, but they still lack something. You sort of understand that, though you understand everything out here. You look over at me, out of the corner of your eye as well, letting our gazes linger cautiously, "What are you thinking of?" I shrug, turning away entirely, looking to my left, watching the waves crash and move, dance in the water, "Good and bad. Wondering if it's wrong of me to sit here and talk to you." You laugh again, in a way I recognize, shaking your head at me, "You worry about that a lot. Whatever happened to doing what you needed to do to heal? What's so wrong with talking? This isn't like your dreams, you can control this. You're safe." His last words hit me, softly, though knocking the wind out of me. I get it. For that split second, I completely understand. I really am safe here.

You get quiet, letting me soak in more of your surprisingly good advice, my empty hand reaching out and grabbing the sand anxiously, playing with it. I let the cool texture wriggle through my fingers, giving me a tactile focus as I process it. But you speak again, "You're not angry at me, today?" I shrug a little, realizing I came for more than just advice, "I'll always have some of that anger. Some days are better than others." You nod, and I smirk a little, continuing, "I wonder sometimes if you cried after. I wonder if you felt guilt, or when the anger started to subside. I wonder if the guilt progressed. I wonder why you kept trying to take things from me. I wish sometimes you could have seen me after it went down, how many people flocked to me to support me. I guess I should thank you, in a way." You cock a confused eyebrow, waiting, "I mean, you took away any naive views I had. It was like taking off glasses. I understood who was real, who was true. I saw people for who they were, after. I read people even better now, better than they understand themselves." I laugh a little and raise my hands, running my fingers through my hair, pushing it back, "You helped bring out my super power. I sift through the bullshit immediately." You nod, understanding, and I don't look over to see your reaction to any of this, knowing that I can be selfish right now, and being alright with that, "I love who I am, and I hate parts of it. I love knowing a lot about myself, and others, and I love understanding on a different level now. I know I exist on a different level from the rest of the population, which in turn makes it hard to relate. Maybe therapy is what I need, but not to cure anything. To make sense of it."

I feel like you're starting to disappear, and so I get more concise, "For all my anger, resentment, sadness and frustration, I am still happy with who I am. I just need to learn how to make sense of it and come to terms with it." You nod, becoming more tangible for a moment, enough to speak,
"You've never changed. Just evolved into something more fitting and 'you'. You're perfect." I can't help but smile a little and nod, looking over at you as I take your hand, "Thanks." You squeeze my hand back and stand, letting it go, leaving me with my beautiful beach once more.

Link | Leave a comment {1} | Share


So it's December.

Dec. 23rd, 2009 | 03:48 am
mood: nostalgic nostalgic

And I'm writing in this. I don't know why, because I know no one reads this anymore, as there's nothing here anymore. I'm aware of a lot of things, lately. One is that I'm crazy. Two is that I only draw to me other like-crazy people. I have some 'normal' friends, but most of the people who really enjoy my company are just batshit. I'm alright with that. It suits me. I also am pretty sure I'm Borderline. Which SUCKS. Borderline Personality Disorder. Look it up, hoes.

I'm also pissed off at myself for thinking of you. Yea, you know who you are. I'm angry at myself for it, and I'm not sure why. I'm also not sure why you're still on my brain. The dreams are so much less frequent, and rarely are they nightmares, but they exist. Did I get closure? I don't know. I still check license plates when I drive, still hear certain songs and get immediately upset. I'm still not alright, and I don't think I ever will be. I should probably accept that now. I was bonded to you, in a way I'd never been with anyone else, and you shattered that bond. I isolated myself so totally and entirely, and I've never grieved. It was a loss. A momentous one. I wonder now if we'd ever be friends. Is it stupid to sort of hope we could be? I still get you, I know that much, and I'm sure despite your denial, you still get me. We both coped in different ways, because it was a different loss for both. I wonder if you really get how I suffered. Those nights I cried. Those nights I wanted to cry. The horrific anger I felt, the shame. So why do I still want to know you? I miss our phone conversations, as they once were. I miss some of the inside jokes. I miss you, which I'm aware must be 'sick' or 'wrong', but it's there, so be it. Maybe you've moved on, far past this, and I'm left to do my grief work alone. Maybe your denial is so much more powerful, because it's had to be. To admit what you did would be to admit monsterous acts. I'm fairly certain not many could manage that.

So where does that leave me? Am I really so alone in this? Is my current solitude my own doing, or yours? Maybe both? I'm damaged goods, I get that. Two and a half years since I've been with another person. Took me that long to even be able to sleep in the same bed as someone else. But still. I may not feel the true forgiveness yet, but I want to. I want to have some semblance of closeness, of friendship that I know could be found. Call me crazy if you want, it certainly fits.

It's almost too bad you'll never read this.




In completely opposite news, I'm fully applied to Kentucky and Amherst, but Brandeis seems to think I enjoy not handing in letters of recommendation. One place I really want, too. I'm fairly certain if it came down to it, I might just head to Kentucky. Change of scenery, new people. UMASS would be great, but who knows... I just need to leave.

Link | | Share


(no subject)

May. 19th, 2009 | 11:04 pm

So, I'm posting.

Why? I'm not too sure.

Good news first, I got the transfer at work, meaning that rather than being stressed out for the rest of my life, I'm working in a facility that's mostly for independent living, with only six girls, at most four being there at any given time. No restraints, no behavior like that. It'd be astounding. I beat out a few others for it too, apparently, although my reasoning is that they only hired me for it because they won't have to train a new staff, and they hate me at the other place. Regardless, I'm grateful.

I'm also leaving the Body Shop. I handed in my two-weeks today, because I'll be full-time at my other job, and the best part IS that I'll have Thursday, Friday, and Saturday OFF. That's fucking astounding, can you imagine? It's beautiful. So that's the deal with that. Nothing fascinating.

I vented to Kevin the other night about being horribly frustrated about the fact that I'm alone, and not just because people won't date me, but because I've isolated myself entirely. I've done this to myself. It sucks. Hopefully I'll be able to start going out more, with the opening of my weekends. But still... I've done this. I hate that I have, and I feel like I'm unable to find someone on my own. It's almost as though I feel stunted in my social growth, and I have no idea how to meet people. I just blindly hope someone sets me up and it works. Which, of course, hasn't happened. But I still hope. And that's a silly thing to do. But hey, what else can I do?

I'm sick of posting... I do have Anime Boston coming up, and lots of friends to see there =) that'll be fun, and a nice, highly-needed break, given I worked quite a long week.

And that's it... dunno what else to say.

Link | Leave a comment | Share


(no subject)

Mar. 23rd, 2009 | 09:07 pm
mood: content content
music: All Eyes On Me- Goo Goo Dolls

So once more I neglect this journal. How thoughtless of me, especially given how things are going.

Which is well! I ended things for good with the person who wants to remain nameless, partly because of that. Partly because they ended things, then came back, and it turned out they had told other people about us. I dunno, I felt betrayed. It's better for me to not have a real relationship right now, I suppose.

I finished my therapy, which made me cry. My therapist really helped me to realize my full potential as a human being. I've improved my quality of life by a lot. I can sit and be happy or content, not always nervous or anxious. Some days I don't even realize it. People tell me I'm so relaxed, or I realize I'm so much more calm at my job, something that forced me into getting help to begin with. I thanked her for everything, because she shaped my life. I'm happy now. I was happy before but this... this is new. This feels like she helped me to wipe away the grime and dirt that once covered the mirror, and helped me to realize who I really am. And it's amazing. This is ME. I feel like... I feel like me =)

Sure, I get nervous still, but it's about stuff that really makes sense, and my level of anxiety is understandable, if not lowered. I handle things better than others, and I can see my own spirals into anger and anxiety, and can stop myself. I still practice relaxation, and it's nice. I'm still going to do my journal as a support, too.

I'm also more focused on what matters to me. People that matter, I care about others now seriously, and I can distance myself from those energy suckers. I just feel... I feel great. I think it's rubbing off on others, too. I can help mold peoples' energies, and it's kind of cool. I'm more motivated to get my own place, to get a new job... all of that. I have reasonable concerns about life now, and I feel more excited. I'm seriously considering moving to a new state (where I know others) just to get away. To be away. To be FREE. And it excites me, it seems feasible, and real. And I like it. I like how I feel, how I think I really am now.

Not much else to really report. Still trying to get a new job, but apparently I'm doing really well at my current job, despite no feedback. I may visit Laurel next weekend. Celebrating my mom's birthday soon, and going to call out to work to do so. Fuck that job xD

Aaaaand that's it... not a lot to say. Happy, content... me =)

Link | Leave a comment {1} | Share


(no subject)

Feb. 16th, 2009 | 05:00 pm
mood: contemplative contemplative

So. I'm posting.

It's been a while, as I am ever so intelligent to notice by checking the last post I made. I'm not sure why I stopped, I guess I just didn't feel a need to post.

So why now?

I've been in therapy for about... five or six months now for anxiety. Specifically, I've been getting treatment as part of a study (and thus free treatment) for generalized anxiety disorder, for which I've been diagnosed. Going into it, I was skeptical. Being anxious for so long, I questioned whether it was even possible to NOT be so anxious, and what it would feel like. My first sessions were frustrating, forcing me to go back over my anxiety, focusing on it and reliving it. I got angry, overly emotional, and frustrated. As time went on, I learned to identify anxious cues, to use relaxation techniques that while they took a while, seemed to help, though not in the moment. Eventually, I got to the point where I'd notice other people being anxious. I saw my boss freaking out, and I said "Wow, she is just really high strung... she should chill". And that made me smile. Not because it was funny, but because I realized I felt normal. Sure, I was still anxious, and still am, but not nearly as much as I used to be. I am able to take steps back now and realize what I'm doing and what I'm feeling. Sure, my social anxiety still overwhelms me at times, but I manage myself. I don't perseverate on things, I don't obsess how I used to. Every monday, I know I have my therapy appointment, and I go into Boston.

But it's ending soon, and we discussed what I'll do instead, to keep myself in the routine. I decided that my journal is likely the best place for myself. I'll have Mondays free, so why not make the most of them? Post here, post what anxious things happened, if I applied rapid relaxation, etc. I'll miss therapy, but I'm grateful for it.

I feel normal now. Like I can step back and go "Huh... that would make anyone anxious". That people can listen to what I do and go "I could never do that, I'd be too afraid". That I can be called a 'calm person' and that I'm 'relaxed'. That makes me happy. It really does. I feel like something matters now. That I've learned how to be like other people, if not more observant. I still get anxious, but I understand it more, and I can feel it differently and break away from it. I have tools and I know how to get through it.

I'm also sort of seeing someone now. I'm not sure whether I can post his name, which leads me into a worry. He wants to keep in on the down-low, which I get but also... I don't get. Is he ashamed of me? Embarrassed what his friends think? What is it? I also don't know how to act around him. I have an urge to be sweet and... girly, but I'm afraid to. He's a very logical person, as am I, but what if he sees it as stupid? I want to call him and talk to him for hours, to learn all these things about him, but I have no idea what to do. Never have I felt so confused before. So unsure how to act. Usually I'm so confident about myself, but... maybe he just makes me nervous. He's so smart, witty, amazing, and a variety of other words, but... but but but. I dunno. I'm scared. I'm scared I'll fuck up something that matters to me, that I'll make him hate me, or he'll see the 'real' me and be smart and go running.

I'm afraid that now that I've finally found someone I want to be with, that it won't work. Something will go wrong. I don't know how to act around him, I simply don't. I care for him, and I'm worried I care more for him than he does for me... I can't ask him how he feels can I? Would that be rude? Would I make him angry? AUGH! What do I do?! Someone help me.

And with that, I end my entry I suppose... looking for a new job DESPERATELY, enjoying Body Shop as best I can with Walden, which I still hate.

Time to depart, dearest journal.

OH WAIT! Peace Corps is going well too, just gotta do my health forms. BLEH. And prove that just 'cause I'm fat, I can still join >>

Link | Leave a comment {1} | Share


(no subject)

Dec. 16th, 2008 | 09:28 am
mood: busy

So, for me, having zombie dreams is nothing new. I tend to have them with some sort of frequency, and it never really disturbs me. Last night's was funny though, mostly because it was rubbing in my face not having a boyfriend.

It started where I was trying to hunt down this guy who had killed some of my friends. I was finally down to my significant other, and he went to do this experiment thing, at which point I told him I couldn't lose him, I just couldn't. So I ended up shoving him out of the way and doing the experiment for him, thus putting myself directly into harm's way. I was sucked into another dimension, and thus, another dream.

This next dream took place where the zombie apocalypse was starting. I was at a home, not unlike mine, with some random folks when it hit. I told them what to do, and how to get past the zombies, ending up eventually on the roof of the house where we were safe. The supplies we had were weird, like poinsetta plants, fake plants, and random stuffing. I was convincing everyone we were safe, and protecting people.

Somehow, the time-frame shifted, and the apocalypse was in full-force, and had been going on for a while. I was at my house, but it was... different. Bigger, more locks, heavier doors, more fortified. I was living with a group of people, my parents among them. Everyone kept forgetting to lock the door though, which consistently bothered me, because random zombies were still occasionally wandering the streets. But I was locking the doors and such. Then it was winter, and these guys pulled up, and I brought out my katana, because I'd been using it for protection. They commended me for it, although it was suddenly shorter. The dream itself was weird, and I was never once killed, which makes it odder, because usually I die in a crazy-ass scene. But regardless, it was cool, and I woke up feeling ready for a zombie invasion xD Haha.

So here's to hoping my day goes well, working at the body shop. Tomorrow is my combo, then thursday is just Walden, then fri/sat is my combo again. I'll be so happy when the holidays are over, or when I can quit Walden. Now, just to finish filling out my Peace Corps. application, and get my recommendations in order. Oy oy oy.

Link | Leave a comment | Share


(no subject)

Dec. 7th, 2008 | 10:03 am
location: Home
mood: cynical cynical
music: Prayer of the Refugee- Rise Against

So I took the GREs the other day. I prepped for probably not as long as I should have, and took them anyways. I got my score on the multiple choice immediately, which was abysmal. 1000 out of 1600. My writing section, however, needed to be sent in and graded separately, of course. So I got it back the other day, pretty aware that my writing skills are already very high up there (except at 10am on my only day off). I received a PERFECT score on the writing section. The grades are done on a .5 scale, starting at 6.0-1.0. Six is the highest. I got a 6.0. Not a 5.5, not a 5.0, a 6.0. Absolutely perfect. That means two people both read my paper, and both thought it was perfect. To me, that's what I'm most proud of. That's the most challenging section, and I did perfect. I'm quite proud of that, though intensely pissed that I still have to take the ENTIRE THING over again. Whateverrrrrrrrrrrrrr

In other news, I've been working a lot. Beyond the fulltime, when combining both jobs. Body Shop hired me for 10 hours a week, and I'm working 25 next week. That's two and a half times what I signed up for. But it's money, and who am I to say no? Besides, it'll drop back to normal once the holidays are over. And the Body Shop has been good, my boss is nice, co-workers are cool. Plus I get samples and discounts. I've also been using makeup more, and having fun with it. It really is like painting! Haha

And my body is looking better, toning and firming it up. It's nice to physically start to see the difference, losing weight can be a powerful motivator. Once I hit my target in another 20lbs, I'm getting that tattoo. Everyone who hears about it grins, shakes their head, and goes "That's weird, but that's so you, Alix". Good to know I don't let people down ;)

Really, that's about it... Peace Corps stuff came today, so I'm going to fill that out and send it all back, then see what happens. Gotta finish sending out grad school stuff, since that's my backup, and I refuse to work at Walden beyond a year. Dunno what else to report though. It's snowing, and I'm feeling cynical. Nothing new, haha.

Link | Leave a comment | Share


(no subject)

Nov. 2nd, 2008 | 10:24 pm
mood: exhausted exhausted

I've lost more weight.

I'm almost back to where I started. Once I hit my goal, I'm getting my tattoo. I'm excited.

In the middle of a restraint at work yesterday, Tanya (boss) looks at me while holding the girl's arm, and I'm on her legs. She'd asked me earlier to cover Sunday, when I agreed, she said, "So Alix, can we talk about you going back to full time?" and smiled at me. I told her I'd be willing to think about grabbing Sunday mornings, maybe if I can do 9-3:30pm. THAT way, I'd be getting 34.5 hours a week, and I'd be fulltime. I just can't see myself getting up at 5:30am to get in for 7:30am after working until 11pm the night before.

Work has consumed me.

I'm going to have my mom check my Peace Corps. application over, and I'm going to call the head office to send in my college transcript. I have my three recommendations sent in, and wrote my personal essays, and I fit the criteria. I guess it all depends on them. I'd LOVE to do it, but who knows. I doubt my ability to get in... meh. I also applied to gamestop for an assistant manager position. I doubt I'd get that, either. But it can't hurt me to apply, you know? What do I lose by applying.

Regardless. I finally got my period after six months of not. Doctor says I have some disorder where I don't ovulate like normal women. I don't produce eggs monthly like other women do. I'm one in 10% of all women who are like that. I'm an oddity. I have such a weird body. Anyways, I may not be able to have kids then, or some shit like that... which makes me sad. Whatever. Not to stress now, single anyways, and I will be forever. I just don't know where to go to meet boys. Or how to meet boys... I don't want to do the internet thing D:

I GIVE UP D: !!!

/done.

Link | Leave a comment {2} | Share


(no subject)

Oct. 21st, 2008 | 12:51 am

WEll FUCK.


Given I've sufficiently isolated myself from anyone who might care about me, it makes this hard. I'm becoming depressed again. And it blows. I'm paranoid, angry, sad, frustrated, lonely. I hate this.

Hate hate hate.

Link | Leave a comment | Share