Monday, September 19, 2005

I feel very very depressed now. I made one cut on my arm, near the tricep, where it's easier to hide things. The slash came very easily this time. And this time, the feeling is one of almost-euphoria. Heh. I dunno why, but I don't think I can take things easily anymore. I need a break, a TOTAL break. From things, from people, from life. Work's getting to me really badly. And the crying spells are coming back with a vengeance; the depression hits even harder; the break-downs more immitent. To say that I can hang on will be a lie: a blatant lie. I feel like just smashing the laptop to bits and then just storming out of the company, of school, of my family and friends, and of this life. Now.

It's almost to the end of 23 weeks (start of the 18th week now), and I'm even more afraid of making mistakes, of fucking up. It makes no logical sense why this should happen. It just is. I've got no need to justify why; depression and darkness need no justification.

I'm very very tired. And I'm ready to break down and weep. I've forgotten my training but I don't care about it already. I've forgotten my strength because I've lost too much. I've forgotten about life and myself because I never had any.

I've never regained who I really was, who I'd set out to be. That first journey and formation of my life was the most vital, the most impactful, but I was waylaid by too many things, and never found that path back. And perhaps, all these pain come from memories of that loss.

I'm pissed at myself greatly and I don't know why. And whenever I get angry at myself I want to hurt myself badly. I won't let anyone know this, not my family, and definitely not him.

Which begs the question: he cares so much, why not let him know? He can help me through this as much as he can. I think it's because the pain is mine. MINE. And I need something of mine to keep me sane, to keep me going in life. And if my pain is taken away, what else have I left? If my pain is taken away, I wouldn't be me anymore, would I?

"There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death." ~Kenneth Patchen

How true, especially since I've done so many of the "little dyings" I have few parts left that truly lives.

"They tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice... that suicide is wrong; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person." ~Arthur Schopenhauer

"Name me no names for my disease,With uninforming breath;I tell you I am none of these,But homesick unto death."~Witter Bynner, "The Patient to the Doctors"

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." ~Henri Nouwen

"The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you've had." ~Author Unknown

I'm just so tired that nothing gets through to me anymore. I'm filled with worry for what I can do wrong, with worry for not meeting expectations, with worry for my failures. I have no intention of forgiving all the slights done to me during SIP. But also, I'm too tired to truly do anything about it.

It's like the first few months all over again. Then, I was depressed and breaking down because I hadn't gotten used to the work here, and kept messing up. Also, I found my freedom and my essence taken away from me without mercy, my spirit torn from me, my soul ripped apart.

I got used to it a little after that, by trying to find substitutes for the loss of freedom, by trying to adapt. I've only succeeded a little, but the little has made me more competent in the tasks. However, the exchange for this competency came at a higher price than I'd intended: my strength was depleted even more, my fear arose even more strongly after that.

Now, with a month-and-a-half left to the end of SIP, I'm once again back to square zero with regards to how I'm handling this place. I'm exhausted; I'm breaking down. Though, with the hardships did come certain joys and contentment too, the greatest of which is being together with him. And I have to wonder: if I'd made different choices, would our paths have still crossed?

So maybe if I hadn't placed multimedia as the first choice for SIP, and been posted to SAP, I wouldn't have been so alone, and wouldn't have opened up so much to him. Then perhaps, he wouldn't have gotten concerned, we wouldn't have talked more and gotten to know each other better, and found common grounds.

If I'd been posted to Nickelodeon, which is the place he interned at, there would've been other CMMers there and again, I wouldn't have felt so alone I needed to turn "outwards" in my struggle.

But when it comes to the end, has knowing him been more worth it than the pain I've gone through, and am still going through? When I weigh them, would I rather have not known the pain and not gotten to know him, than to know the pain, and know him?

To be honest, I don't know.