Friday, June 15, 2007
Thanks for writing. Thanks for reading.
By the way you can choose not to read.
I've decided I am going to die. This is explicit to those who wanted a warranty from me when I make these kind of decisions.
Last night I gave up. I reached a calm and semi rational decision. I am going to stop doing this, by this I mean this whining wishy washy what am I going to do phase.
I am going to die. I just didn't know how. I offered many ideas, and everytime you kindda look at me weird, I looked at you weird too because in my mind I was thinking, those aren't suitable ideas.
Mainly because they physically hurt or has high chance of failing.
So my decision is within the next few months I'm going to find a hospital which endorses euthanasia. I have money and I have reached a semi legal age of being able to do things with myself. If I have to find a hospital in another country, alright.
In the mean time I will continue taking my medication and I will continue to see my case manager. I am going to slough through fiduciary duty and restitution and take my exams. I am going to go home, and then go to Thailand with dad and then maybe return. While I am doing all that, I am going to find a doctor who is willing to perform euthanasia. You can help me by finding one with me, or not. Your choice.
I believe I have the right to die, and now I'm just going to do it. It's not going to be this majorly dramatic sequence of my jumping infront of a tram, or jumping out my window, or cutting myself and dying slowly. I'm just going to disappear.
All this time I thought I was actually caring about people by not dying. Ok, so I was proven wrong.
I don't blame anyone and I don't expect people to feel guilty and actually I'm still trying to figure out why there are some who stuck around. You have your problems, you have your priorities, you have yourself to care about, I thought I made that clear.
Anyway it's going to take a few, maybe a couple, maybe less months for me to actually find a hospital. If by then I haven't found one, I'm sure I'll be thinking dramatic suicides work well too.
I have a high maintenance attitude, true. So I'm going to stop. Don't send me letters, don't see me, don't read this blog, go on with your life. Some of you actually live here and can walk down the corridor, thankyou, but I'm not asking you for anything. I am also going to stop calling you. And yes I respect your right to do whatever you please, I'll just smile at you.
The next few posts are going to be whatever little things I think about. This is the last post where I'm going to write I am or want to die.
Good bye.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 10:25 AM
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Due to a phone call this evening, this is an updated post that must be read.
In other words, if you're reading everything else, you have to read THIS post.
Pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable, get a hot cup of chocolate and listen.
This is the equivalent of Suan Ee's suggestion for the 'if you need to talk and for the others to listen I can make sure of it', well, I don't talk well, so I'm typing it out. Believe me, it's more effective.
Everything on this blog is a cry for help. There's no denying it because that's why it exists. I've been blogging since 2004. That's a LONG time, FILLED with depressive and suicidal thoughts as well as other moronic things that go through my mind. I don't write a diary because that defeats the purpose of me trying to reach someone. Anyone. A diary is read by me. It's no different from me talking to myself. That doesn't work anymore as quite clearly demonstrated, I'm no longer capable of willing myself out of my depression. Hence the blog. It's a way for me to signal something is wrong because (with much evidence) telling someone by voice doesn't work. It is a way for me to chuck out all these negativity and make them into coherence, and for me to reflect on why I'm being frustrated or miserable. It's helps me deal with the fact that I NEED to get those thoughts out or I WILL either become insane or go kill myself.
What you don't want is for me to start editing my posts or to lock this blog because well, you keep telling me to tell you things, so here they are.
And you know what, I've edited my posts before, made them more pleasing when I realised people were actually reading what I was writing. Presumably that's why I've ended up in the hospital because I've lost the one outlet I needed. Instead of stuff going out, they remained inside and this incessant screaming is ceaseless.
I can't sleep at night.
I can't focus during the day.
All I hear, even right now, is this screaming in my head.
I am MISERABLE.
Everytime someone calls and says 'How are you', be aware that you're hearing a pause. Because I'm thinking of what to say. It will take me a good half hour to spill out everything I'm feeling so the easier method is to say 'It's alright' or 'I'm sleepy'.
I don't know what else to say.
Because the situation isn't that different from weeks ago.
I still want to die.
I still feel miserable.
Things aren't getting better just because I'm not getting hysterical break downs every other day. Actually I'm still getting those panic attacks, just more frustrated at them.
I don't call because I am aware, I am getting help.
I'm going to see the counsellor.
I know I can call you.
I don't have a plan.
I have MANY ideas, but the day I'm actually going to go boom, is when I say Goodbye, I'm going to go die now.
The fact is, I'm struggling, and I'm fighting, and if I'm not, well, I'll be dead by now.
There's not much you CAN do.
If someone intended to die, they would already be dead.
Fact.
I'm still trying.
That's why I'm miserable, that's why I'm crying because I WANT to die, I just don't know why, and don't know how to get past it.
Writing things out, helps me focus.
And you know what, for four years this blog has been here, and I know there are readers but amazingly enough it took 20 years of living and one sentence to someone I didn't even know that well to spark off a hint that something was wrong with me.
Seriously I've written before about self harm. I've written before about suicidal thoughts.
It took a 'I'm crying every night' to THOM for HIM to realise oh dear, something is wrong.
I write because I think people out there deserve to hear me. I'm writing explicitly for these thoughts to be read. You deserve to know about the suffering in this world, about how things do not just revolve around you, about how there are more things in life besides grades and clothes and food and even people.
It takes someone in my position to realise that frankly, you and I are insignificant.
Life is about living.
Just being.
Appreciate.
You deserve to be more aware.
How often your actions and thoughts betray you in your selfishness.
Because you yourself shape reality. I don't care about you because all I know is my own thoughts, this is my reality.
But atleast I am aware of it, and you're not.
I'm not very reasonable, nor am I very logical. Because all I am is my thoughts and my emotions.
And they are important.
But no one ever listens.
You're paying more attention now because you know something is wrong. I'm not objecting to the reading. By all means, stalk my blog if you wish.
I'm just wondering why you're talking to me about it.
I write purposely. As in with a purpose, and every post goes through their own self editing so whatever is posted is final, is exactly what I'm thinking.
This is what is going through my head. These thoughts.
Sometimes they are abit late, because these thoughts came while I was in the shower but still.
Right now I'm also thinking I feel very nauseous and would like someone to hug except I'm sitting here with my hair wrapped in a towel waiting to be blowdried.
Most of the time I get out of bed due to inability to sleep and type out whatever is going through my head.
Whatever emotion you're getting from them is exactly what I'm feeling. Be it sadness, anger, nonchalance, happiness.
They are not written to invoke sympathy. They are written for me to sort things out and for me to get rid of the negativity swirling around my head. In the universe somewhere I also deemed myself important enough to feel someone ie the reader should know exactly what I'm thinking of.
Just read and be more aware.
Of yourself, of others. Do some self reflection.
And you know how I use the words I and You alot?
I am talking to someone, because in my head I'm talking to myself. Occasionally it's directed towards someone else.
So if you see a YOU, the you is either a reasonable non descript person ie the reader, or me, or someone whose name I do not wish to disclose.
Usually if I'm being negative about someone, I don't use names, but then everyone's so selfish to the point that they don't realise I'm talking about them. These are actually whole conversations if you read properly.
So as part of my ongoing therapy, I'm going to make some things clear, because up to now I was still taking your feelings into consideration. So for the following few paragraphs, if you're a reader, be aware that if you're important enough you are included.
Two of you have been talking to people about how you 'still care' and 'is worried' and 'things will never be the same again', but listen, YOU are moving on. Believe me, you are. You tell OTHER people how you still care because you want to establish that you do so as to not look uncaring, not that I should know about it. You have been moving on with life and dealing well with it. One of these two I've lost all respect for. The second I'm disappointed with. As I said, it takes two people to ignore each other.
The rest of you I'm disappointed with because I've been using your definition of friendship. You think I don't listen, but oh I remember more things than you do. You say your friends are the most important thing in your life and you would do anything to help them or to make sure things are ok. Guess what, you went away. You I dislike for thinking you're so much better than me. Waiting for me to 'come to my senses' and then everything will be okie dokie. Guess again, I want to die, I frankly don't care about you or your rational ideas. You decided to choose to be friends with someone who's been bitching about you and voiced numerous complaints about how weird you are and how they refuse to come out if you're there and forcing me to choose between being with this set of friends or that, that was YOUR choice.
I do not want to be that kind of person. And I do not want to be with someone who would make that kind of choice.
You I always have had the highest respect for, and surprisingly enough in one brief slip of information, have lost that respect for. It's highly personal, but I believed you basically stabbed me in the back.
Seriously, you can say I've blocked you on msn, and I have refused to answer your calls, but you know I'm still in the same country and guess what, I have email, available for looooong letters.
I once asked Thom what he would do if I stopped talking to him. He responded immediately to his credit that he would bang down my door and use his master key if needed to drag me out of my room and make sure things are ok. At the moment Thom believed I liked him and was feeling insecure, but basically that one sentence have made me cling to him for life. I'm like the moss clinging to the stone just to live even when there's no purpose for it. Thom doesn't even know me that well, but he was there for me to physically cling to when I was crying like an idiot. He was there till morning forgoing all manner of sleep and sanity to make sure I didn't feel abandoned.
He and Suan Ee IGNORED my pleas for space and quips about being alright to literally bang down my door until that night when actually I was going abit insane because I just wanted everything to disappear.
But you......sat there. I'm just disappointed. I told you what was wrong, I spoke to you more than anyone else. And then you went to lunch.
Two of the other you I rarely even talk to, and meh, you're very concerned about your own lives. So be it.
One of you I haven't blocked, and I have nothing against you so if you're reading, well, happy wowing.
End blab.
I don't care about how you've acted, and now I don't care if you're feeling angry.
Point of the matter is you're moving on. Acknowledge the fact that you are. Don't give me any crap. If you're feeling anything else besides guilty, well, I've kindda established that you're kindda selfish. Everyone is.
You come first and foremost in your mind. Every act is justified.
But it doesn't remove itself from that fact, you left me. Just as much as I left you.
To Alex, Thom and Suan Ee.
I feel bad most of the time. Pretty much miserable all of the time. Occasionally just blah, work, blah tired.
I am trying. I'm being somewhat stupid and moronic and childish and yes I know everytime you come in, I'm on a study break, but I REALLY am absolutely staring at the page and have NO idea what on earth is that judge blabing on about. Alex says, and dad and mom, no expectations, just get through this and get better.
I want to do well. This is being frustrating. For some bizarre reason I'm somewhat managing to think I need to do well in my exams eventhough I also see no future, so it's all very conflicting.
This isn't just all going to get better.
I'm wondering why I'm abusing myself so badly. There has got to be a reason. I thought once maybe I'm doing it for the attention or maybe I'm just plain insane.
If you put my life down on paper it's either clinical or normal.
Good family, good education, no worries about support.
But this is also a child who has bad family custody identity issues and years of bullying which gives rise to the low self esteem, the tendency to withdraw.
I do analyse myself. I don't know why. I am not a victim.
Why do I feel miserable all the time.
Everyone has their ups and downs, it's a NORMAl part of life.
But me? I'm just sad. Just negative.
I'm not miserable about a guy, about work, about people, about things. I'm just suffering.
So if you keep reading and keep being worried, know that this is what I'm going through every waking moment.
I'm trying to cope.
I am still running pen marks down my arms because it allows me to vent some of the pent up insanity. As long as they are marks, they aren't scars. But.........it does hurt, I noticed that.
I still rock myself to sleep, I still cry, I still get those panic attacks. I don't necessarily call you for every single little thing. You have lives to lead.
But you know if I plan to kill myself, you will know.
It feels weird to have your principal call you up for a chat but I enjoy talking to you even though it's abit weird. And I hope you try more bubble tea. And I kindda wonder about your sexuality. Just wondering, I am curious.
Thom I love and hope you appreciate your sense of individuality. I have no words for you because you're just Thomthom, a big fluffy teddy bear.
For Suan Ee, who is still going through life, trying things out, challenging herself and hanging on to a guy who should seriously appreciate her more, I woffle my nose to you.
Sometimes I ask myself would I give up this life for a better one. Without the sadness and the suffering and just be a normal person. And every answer I have ever given was......no.
I wouldn't be me.
There are things I appreciate about myself and things which I hate.
Sometimes I just want to disappear because it gets too hard to handle, to keep carrying this. I don't really care about people because I understand some of the things I think about. You always care about yourself, that's why the world is a worse place.
I keep thinking that.
I make the world a worse place.
And you know, if you understood how I feel, you should either be miserable or going insane or harming yourself or trying to die. You wouldn't be going on with life.
I need to go dry my hair and decide if I can slough through the rest of the fiduciary cases.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 10:43 PM
You I simply detest. Your being, your personality. You are a sexist racist hypocritical little person who will never amount to anything because you're so enclosed in that tiny world, always trying to pretend to be something you're not. You will never succeed because they will never accept you, trying to be one of them.
You aren't capable of moving, of being aware while you move through life, thinking you're perfect in your own little way. Guess what, you're not.
And you. Immature child playing at being grown up. You will never get through life being the kid, trying to play innocent, you're nothing but awkward and stupid.
Life isn't a game. It's about living.
I'm better than any of you.
You are pathetic.
Stop your superficiality and grow up. You think they really care about you? You think you have friends? You think you are absolutely totally fine? Right.
You are nothing. I don't care about you.
You are irrelevant.
You make me sick thinking there are people like you in the world, poisoning it with your happy little giggles. Hear the venom in my voice. You can't handle anything.
You want sympathy? You wanted me to speak? So listen.
You deserve to know you're worthless. You will never be anything, cocooned in your safe little world, being an insipid little speck.
Remove yourself from my sight.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 1:51 AM
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Go kill yourself.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 8:14 PM
I want to die.
I want this to end.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 8:14 PM
I'm quite aware at this point perhaps I'm self sabotaging.
It would explain the non concentration, the headaches, the cannot sleep for many many hours at night until the alarm rings, the crying, the wanting to die.
Yes perhaps it explains alot.
An endless spiral of hopelessness.
I am restless at night, shaking to the point of being physically nauseous.
That can't be good.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 10:34 AM
Monday, June 11, 2007
It's scary, all these people and all these question.
Volunteering support.
I wonder why, the more they offer, the more I get scared.
Because then I wonder, I'm really not strong enough.
All this while I've managed, I've got it under control, but by and by it starts becoming more overwhelming. And I get more scared because I can feel I am losing it.
So I wonder if subconsciously, I'm thinking........the more support you give, the more afraid I am that I really cannot handle it anymore.
What happens when you leave?
What happens when the support disappears.
You can't be here with me all the time.
I wonder if that's why, it's easier to go away. Withdraw. I'm always alone.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 9:58 PM
Saturday, June 09, 2007
You know what really annoys me. How people can say it's so easy. Ah the exam was easy, piece of cake, I'll pass without a doubt, no problem at all. Everything's great. It's easy. That's the word.
It's easy.
Seriously?
I'm fighting every moment. Fighting's hard work. I'm fighting because I'm better than all these people. All these people who wouldn't give a moment's thought to anything. They breeze through life, feeling fine, feeling great. I say I'm better than that. Because I'm fighting. I want to be better.
They complain about the slightest matters. Failing below a H1 grade. Can't get that guy to notice them. Omg no clothes to wear.
The best thing about not talking is that I listen. I listen very well, and I see and I observe. You say, there's alot I don't know about people. But I say, but I do. Because I listen and I watch instead of talking.
I see these people who barely try, and get through life well and good. They go out and they have fun. Sure some of them sit in and cram their hardest. Some are just naturally bright.
But most of the time they just do their best and what the heck.
I'm not the brightest of the lot. So I sit here and keep trying and keep trying and keep trying.
I say I have to be better.
I have to get better.
Because I notice so many other things. I can look up at the skies and see the clearest brightest most beautiful blue color and say wow, look at that. I read and watch the news and pass the people on the street.
And I notice.
No one smiles.
They are so unhappy.
So much pain and suffering in the world.
And all I can think of is why?
There is alot of happy people in the world you protest.
Happy?
Happiness is insubstantial.
Misery is concrete.
It cuts through the soul with tears and aching sadness.
Unhappiness is prevalent.
And there are more lonely people than you would ever know.
And I was the idealistic child who wanted to change all that.
I used to be curious. Used to look at things and want to do things.
But I had duties, I had a future. I had to work to attain that future. I didn't fit in.
So I set aside all these childish fantasies, kept them locked deep in my mind, revel in them every moment, and worked.
I am so boring.
I look at myself now and think, this is why I'm crying every night.
Because I realised I am giving up.
I am no longer fighting.
There is no spark, no life in me.
Not that special little something that makes people aware I'm even here.
I am insubstantial.
I am nothing.
So why am I still here?
I thought a few nights ago, if you put a gun in my hands, would I pull the trigger?
And I replied, why not? What was stopping me, pulling me back?
Because there was once a time long long ago when I said I would keep fighting, keep going on, find anything to keep me here.
I thought people, surely someone, anyone, they would want me here.
People don't care. They forget easily. It is a statement.
The first thing I thought was, not my parents, not my friends, not college, no.......most likely I am afraid of suddenly disappearing and then all my little internet communities wouldn't know what suddenly happened to me.
Because atleast, people here would know I'm dead. But you see, the little nifty thing about online people is that they live oh so far away and wouldn't know if anything had happened to you.
And so I thought, that's what I'm most worried about? The people who read my stories, and my poems, see my art. They will forget me in time, one in millions of people.
So brief an existence.
Then I thought, why not live for myself.
But there is nothing to live for.
Even thought I've said I'm stupid many times, I meant in the more intellectual way. I'm not stupid.
I realised early on I'm not going to have a future. I was already dying.
Already starting to give up. I hate the kind of person I am.
Arrogant, obnoxious, cowardly, pathetic, whiny little bitch.
I realised as a child how misplaced I was in the world. How weary I was.
I was tired.
If I was another person looking at this poor sad little child, I'll think, how pitiful.
I don't need your pity.
You're going to say, everyone feels this way some time. They get through it. They get sick for a little while and then they do great.
But you. You have seen many dysfunctional people. They come by, tracking through the office, bringing their pain and leaving with it. And sooner or later you forget about these people.
You're going to forget about me.
You know it's not true.
Things aren't magically going to get better.
You know last year at college they made a college movie. And amid all those photos and all those memories and all those people, and you'll argue ah atleast 10% of the college wasn't in there.
I wasn't in it.
A year's living in college and not important enough to be registered.
You may say I'm just full of myself. It's just one thing. They probably didn't mean it.
Sure, of course.
But it's happened before. Again and again and again and again and again. All those little times make big times. Chunks of my life. My entire life.
Insignificant.
No one knows who I am.
No one remembers.
I fought. I did my best. I was in every school productions. In every dance. In every play. I tried. I went for clubs, for the school newspaper, the cheerleaders, the cadets. I wrote stories and got top grades and went for international conferences. I did alot of things alot of people weren't aware of. They remember the events. They just don't remember me.
I've grown so used to people never remembering my name that I developed a habit of never remembering other people's names because it wouldn't matter after I left.
I've grown so used to being ignored, I just sit by myself and not speak and just think oh my, how boring I am.
I'm not the prettiest, sure, not someone you would be attracted to. Not the most interesting.
I know that you are quite aware I am nothing special.
You ask about self worth.
I have no worth.
What I can do, other people can do, easily, a hundred thousand times better.
I am replaceable.
Easy to look past.
And you know it.
You must ask if I feel it's so pointless why am I here. I'm here because I want it to stop.
I want the pain to stop.
I can't really say it's an emptiness, because you shouldn't be able to feel anything if it's empty. I feel an ache in a very deep hole. And I'm always crying. Except it's on the inside, so no one else sees it.
Only I see it.
I feel it. Every moment. How lonely. How sad.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 1:37 AM
Sometimes we think to ourselves how easy it is to blame others.
It is never our fault, of course not, we are perfect.
It's always the other person, the one who went away, the one who said there was a problem, of course, if they are the problem.
After all aren't we trying all we can?
Of course.
Sometimes, why don't we think.
It's our fault.
It's MY fault.
It's all my fault.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 1:08 AM
Thursday, June 07, 2007
I feel miserable.
That's just it.
Hi How are you. How are you doing?
Well....I'm plodding along, I'm trying. Taking it easy, day by day kindda thing.
I feel miserable.
I can't sleep. I can't focus.
I can't remember what it's like being happy.
I don't remember.
Everytime I think, I start tearing up, start crying, holding myself in bed.
I smile during the day, everything's fine, and still I feel this dratted annoying ache refusing to go away.
No one else feels this way.
Not everyday.
Every moment.
Feeling like they want to die.
They have their lives, they are happy, they enjoy life.
I don't understand.
Everything's not alright.
It's stupid and inconstant, and hard and going to pieces.
I'm not part of anything.
I'm not meant to be here.
I don't belong.
Everything's not ok.
What else am I suppose to say. How do you tell people that all you feel is misery.
What is wrong with me?
I hate.
This miserable existence.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 11:47 PM
Panic attacks are not fun. The most physical distaste you could possibly imagine of switching the 'I want to die' to a 'I NEED to die, NOW, just make it STOP'.
I am attempting to locate the trigger. Don't know what is it exactly. Stressful situations certainly, but that is always going to exist. I can't avoid every relationship, exam, university, people, work.
Perhaps it's in the mind. Certainly I'm more susceptible to it when I could physically feel my brain weakening, the body feels tired and aching and the brain is saying oh no not again.
This is a mini post just to get stuff out of my head before the next big big post.
At the moment I am completing legal theory readings and although not understanding it very well, seems my exam study plan is well on track.
I think I might fail.
Need to ask case manager about recommendation for alternative exam arrangements. For some bizarre reason I am anticipating panic attacks in a room full of 2000 over students, which ain't great. Perhaps we can formulate some coping skills...........
I suppose he was nice. Seemed a tad nervous, but nice.
At the moment cranky and relishing painkillers. I wonder if the Lovan meds are doing funny things to my body. My eyes are now perpetually red, my hair is falling out.........or is that stress.......hmmmmmm........
Can't sleep very well.
Wish the thinking would stop. It's highly irritating.
And the realisation that all I feel is being miserable.
It's rather empty, I think.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 11:29 AM
Monday, June 04, 2007
And a return again after two rather stressful days in the dear ole hospice. Bad sleep, tremendously bad sleep. Waking up, tossing, turning, blah humbug. I'm just worried that's all.
Everyone keeps asking about plans....what plans....I just plan on getting through this week by week......
And in no possible way can I say I guarantee I will not hurt myself again. It's not that I don't want to, I just can't. It is synonymous with saying I will make sure it rains everytime I cry. It's not possible to promise something outside of your control. Perhaps.
I can try though. So be happy with that. Plus I have literally a thousand numbers to call, once you add them up together. Who knew there were so many helplines. And doctors. And psychiatric people. I'm highly doubtful of phone numbers.
When you're in that state of mind, it's like everything else ceases to be, no matter what they are. All you're concentrated on is getting the pain away.
So the thought process is something like this:-
It hurts, stop it, stop screaming, stop it stop it stop it, I don't want to hear you, stop saying anything, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it [at this point action begins] stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it [action gets tiring] stop.....it........[and it stops].
I am not a self harmer. In the very clearest sense, I want to avoid all pain. I get suicidal thoughts, yes, the self harming becomes a way to cope. For me to feel, for me to realize how far it goes, how scary it is. You have to realize, no matter how stupid I say I am (and I mean it in the more intellectual sense), I'm not exactly that stupid. I do realize things. And I can get very imaginative. If I wanted to, every object in any room can be used to hurt. Ever tried banging your head against the wall? I have. Against the door? I have. Every object no matter how harmless it looks can be used to choke, stab, strangle, cut, hit.
The thing YOU have to realize is that I'm looking at every object, I'm thinking of it, and I'm saying No. Give me a little credit? Self consciously I make that decision almost every moment. That makes it hard, and sometimes it gets harder than most times. I just want it to stop.
Asking me to stop........doesn't quite work in that way. I am trying.
The only possible way for you to absolutely ensure safety is to lock me up in a room covered wall to wall with marshmallow material. And seriously, that's it rather....excessive. Have a little faith in me.
So the plan is to go see my brand new case manager and psychiatrist. Then to keep chugging on with my brand new study plan. Take exams. Go home. Finish essays. Go on holiday. Come back.
Then, we shall plan somemore.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 9:51 PM
Saturday, June 02, 2007
A week at the hospital does alot of good things. I could write a raving review of the staff and facilities of Orygen at Footscray but it's too early in the morning, I feel miserable and is bound to return to the hospice in a few hours.
Notwithstanding 3 shifts every day, and almost 5-6 new people per shift, everyone was really nice, and it felt good not to be harassed by people even when they do pop their head in every 15 mins.
It is so different from everything else. Not to be able to sense other people. It's been the greatest relief since years. The others kept to themselves, occasionally venturing a smile, but most of the time nursing their own pain, knowing how it feels to give up and still keep struggling. Knowing that they felt it themselves yet has the decency not to tell you they know how you feel, allowing you to cope and keep yourself alive.
Because this is my pain, my being. I don't care about anyone else but myself, to keep going and find the care enough to tell myself it's worth it. You, are irrelevant.
Everything else is irrelevant.
I have found out though that sitting quietly usually warrants an alright signal. Even if I was seated at the corner, sawing my wrist against the sharp corner just near the wooden panelling against the floor. It bypassed two checks, until I looked up and said my wrist hurts. Well, it did.
Perhaps that's the point. Keep at it until you get tired, then you give up.
On the other hand, continually hitting your head to focus on something else other than that voice in your head usually warrants a concerned question of 'do you need to talk?'
I am surprised I have enough words to keep typing after having gone through countless interviews.
So the rest of the time was spent staring at the sky, drawing, reading, sleeping, talking to nurses and generally avoiding people. Have also developed a nervous twitch of biting my fingers, but I suppose that's just me.
At this point I'm reminded of the people who went through this along with me. I do need my bubble right now, but I must let you know I've appreciated most every moment. I'm bad at saying thankyou so even if only one of the three of you reads this, maybe let the others know? For losing your sleep, for coming to see me, for going through the roughs and tumbles, for getting the cook to boil ABC (western style) soup, for keeping everything else in check so I can numbly receive information, for withstanding bad coffee and blowing up surgical gloves as balloons, for bringing Leon every day, for dealing with my family, for bringing me all my stuff, for bringing pink daifuku cake and sushi, for going on about Paris or Foucault or random happenings, for letting me breathe without letting on that you're having so much trouble with this. I know you are, that you're worried, and troubled, and attempting to handle everything, not just with this but yourself and your problems. But thankyou for not letting me know.
And for Dad who came, and Mom who knew enough, and Grandma with her 'drink lots of water', I know there's alot of things I have to work out. And while I don't agree with you, with well, most everything you say, I have had years of pent up frustration and trying to keep things inside as a defence mechanism. Because it is not me to lash out, to try to hurt others, I know I don't want to, so instead I hurt myself. It is easier for me to yell at myself because well, I've gone through it again and again. The problem is, I'm getting tired, and slipping.
Je voudrais un repos.
Mused by Sukunami Taka around 8:40 AM
