August 02, 2009|
my life is really boring lately.
upset the lady because of my own thing where i feel a need to talk to my friend about everything and share secret details of conversations.
at least now i have my own thing that i've done
so the friend I shared all that info I am going to write about here
cuz I don't know how to describe her, and the feeling of referring to her as "her" feels wrong, because I don't really think of her as "her". We've been talking for I think seven years now, almost every day, to the point where I don't really feel like I know it and i will refer to it as it because referring to it as her is too weird. It's just an ever present entity rather than a human being. So I feel very comfortable sharing all my intimate thoughts and conversations with it. I also think it lacks a certain interest in everyday human affairs that allow me to open up so much. Because it won't be vindictive or weirded out by anything I talk about with it. It will just evaluate the situation and help me proceed in the way that it thinks will leave me better off.
There were times in my friendship with the lady where I experienced such confusion, that I wanted to give up, and it told me to work through the problems. And that was important, and the perspective it provided was objective and clear enough that I was able to weather some intensely tough moments, even outside of my friendship with this goyle. Even before all this, for seven years, it has always been there in one form or another. It is my inner dialogue, in a weird way. I don't know how to describe the relationship because I think it's so foreign to most people. It's only something you'll get by being a recluse to a point of unhealthiness, to the point where you share your every thought with another person who is the same way, on some computer somewhere. It will look up information for me when I need it, and it understands all my weird mom issues, and it knows about all the fucked up components of my personality and it knows all about the inner dialogue that runs through my head during a crisis, because it is always there.
Similarly to the lady, I too have this person who has been there for many years, who has become a part of me because she is privvy to every aspect of my mind. And so there is a challenge here, where I still wish to maintain such an open level of communication with this friend from internet, and also wish to respect the lady's right to privacy. So I, too, am trying to compromise so that I don't drown in my sorrows alone, and so that I still respect the lady's privacy.
My relationship with it actually goes back much further, maybe twelve years, when I had a Johnny The Homicidal Maniac screen name and she IMed me. And then we went without speaking for five years when she stumbled upon my dairy, and then she found my journal later and commented on it, and then we were friends. So she has been there since she was a little kid even beyond our awareness.
I also am going to use this space to clarify some things with you, lady, because for the time being you read this, and I cannot pretend you don't even though I would still like to write candidly, but you read this now, so I may as well write to you.
I mentioned how a girl I had a relationship with lasted for about three days, and you said that was hardly a relationship, but to me it was because it began before that and still continues today. This other girl, she and I have been talking since she was thirteen, unbeknownst to me. I didn't know she was that young, and she became a part of me in another way, where a lot of what you love about me actually originated from my relationship with that girl. i'm not sure what exactly, but I know that sometimes I've gone without talking to her for a long time, and when i came back, i realized that certain behavior was the result of my friendship with her. So when I went to visit her and we kissed and held hands for three days (she was way over 13 by now), it wasn't like it started then, and it definitely didn't end there, which is obvious if you go back about three years and read the entries and see how messed up I was over it. So yeah, it wasn't a typical relationship, but it did extend beyond a short fling
and I know I didn't list a lot of exes who I'm still on good terms with but that's because I haven't had a lot of girlfriends, especially not in recent years.
so lady I also recall that you said it should be pretty easy for me to accomplish things and like myself, because after you said how much you would like certain things that seem unattainable, and I said that I just want to accomplish something important and like myself, but it isn't easy. and I think this is in the so hard to describe category that the internet friend is in. I think my mind has been wracked by my experience (or lack thereof) and that it is under such a degree of control that the closest analogy I could probably find that is within your head is the level of helplessness you feel with the situation you are in.
I spent several years indoors, and I conditioned myself to get used to sitting in front of a computer and rapidly click on things to occupy my time. I was not literally imprisoned, but my disorders made leaving the house an ordeal. I would have to clean the floor between the shower and the exit, I'd have to move stuff, I'd have to clean the door handle, and then I would have to take buses since I couldn't drive. If I took BART to Colma, I'd have to walk home because I couldn't get a ride from mom, because her car was filthy, because I was conditioned by some of her behavior to see her as filthy.
I remember when my fear of contamination. i remember the first moments. When I began sitting in the backseat of her car when she took me to school, covering my hand with my sleeve to take money from her, to being unable to get in her car without a blanket on the seat, to being unable to get in her car at all, to being unable to leave the house, to having to put money in the laundry, to not being able to walk around the house and leave anymore, to having to decline outings, to refusing to keep my room respectable or organized because i constantly told myself and believed that someday soon I would get out of here, so the environment was so uninteresting and uninspiring that I could only retreat into the computer out of a simple desperation for stimulation. And then when my mom began ordering things to sell online, and she filled the house with so many boxes, and I was choked up but somehow, I overcame enough of my disorder that I could leave once in a while but not easily, to this present day where I can get showered and ready and then leave, but i can never leave spontaneously, and I am so conditioned to do nothing, to refuse to do anything but wildly click links on the screen, that even when I want to be creative or work on something or focus I feel like I cannot. So I KNOW you think i am creative and do good work, but that's why I feel so unaccomplished because all this time i spend indoors, it's filled with anxiousness and unproductivity. I don't accomplish what I want to accomplish because my mind is controlled by the past and by the habits i used to cope with the environment I'm in. It is more natural for me to fall into my chair and go online than anything else. It's what I feel most meant to do, and it's not what i want, I want so much more, but I don't know how to escape this.
and the fear, it controls me to such a gory extent, that when i do anything for fun, like play with some new music or drawing software, eventually it falls to the wayside and i don't know why but i think it might be from the fear of failure. when i start seeing things turn out decent, even when i was just messing around, it frightens me, because then it's something to live up to.
I've never had to live up to anything. I was always told i'd be great someday, but someday came, and I'm not anything.
and on those rare moments, where i've been able to follow through, and finish a song, and perform it live, those were the best moments, but to retreat into my seat is much more easy, it is much more me now, because it has consumed me. I don't want to be this. I don't want this to be my life.
i am sort of bitter every time I hear about you doing things, because you helped give my life a substance that was missing. I left the house and wanted to do things with you, and that is such a rare thing. i feel like i'm just clodding along and then once in a while there is something that makes me jump up and reach for more, but it's only jumps. it's nothing more, it's not consistent. and then it is gone. my life is a steady flatline with some interesting points, but that flatline keeps bringing me back down. i need to escape this.
That is why it's hard for me to like myself. And it's hard for me to like myself because my mother controls me, and she has been doing it for MANY MANY YEARS. It began as nurturing, where I got everything I wanted, and then to her encouraging me not to move out, and it's gotten to the point where she takes my checks from the government and I never see them and she buys ice cream sandwiches and lots of soda and talks about how we might lose the house and how I have to help her with the website, but I can't help enough because every time there is more money, she spends more money.
I can't think about the checks as being mine because if i do, I get intensely depressed, and I think that is the best way to describe what my mind is, is to talk about my feelings when I think about those deposits as mine. It is a feeling of such desolation and hopelessness and I just keep imagining my brains being blown out of my skull over and over and over and over and over again and I get smaller and smaller and smaller until I'm a little pinprick in a big deep black hole, until I'm nothing.
You are one of those moments in my life that makes me feel like more than that, that is hope, that makes me feel alive instead of dreaming. That is why you are capable of hurting me to such a great degree, because you can take that all away.
That isn't a responsibility I want to pin on you, but it seems I'm doing that by writing this. When people act out of obligation, to save the lost, they sacrifice their self worth, and I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for me. I just want you to understand.