FloydianSlip

Going Postal
2003-01-27 03:47:22 (UTC)

Pixie dust

Sometimes I confuse melancholy with depression. Some days
are simply better than others. I wish I could have more
days like Saturday. In the end it's not the clothes you
wear or how expensive your car is...it's the little
things.

My friend Holly sent me some pictures today of when we
went to the symphony and a party we went to a few days
later. It's pretty sad when you're that far gone that it
takes a picture to put you back in reality.

I've been bad about shutting off my emotions when
something is bothering me. I just can't deal with anymore
pain of any kind or I think I'm going to snap. I simply
feel nothing most of the time. There's only one person
that I truly allow myself to feel around. The rest of the
time I'm gone or close to it.

The first stage is realizing that you have a problem.
It's a good thing that I'm not in denial. The help that
I've gotten has been wonderful, but sometimes it takes a
lot more than a professional get through to you. Never
underestimate the power of love.

I was talking to someone online today who said that one of
his friends has a friend who died in a car crash over the
weekend. She had terrible parents, but she had everything
going for her. She was close to graduation, she was
valedictorian, she was doing great in school, had
scholarships and college to look forward to. She was
going somewhere.

He believes whole heartedly that her car accident was
suicide. He just can't understand why someone with so
much going for her would do that if it were suicide. I
had to explain to him that even if things are going well
in your life then the pain still lingers. Even if you
have everything going for you the pain is so strong that
you can't really see beyond that. It's suffocating.

Holly said that when my grandparents died she noticed the
change in me. I was never quite the same person as I was
before. I think my breaking point was when Robbie and
Jimmy died. My grandparents were just the last straw when
it came to my emotional breaking point. I remember when
grandpa died it's when I really shut myself off. When
grandma died I simply felt nothing.

I didn't cry for them until a couple years after they had
both been gone. I'm sorry I didn't get to spend more time
with them. There's just never enough time in this world.

My bed still smells like my boyfriend. I'm so afraid to
get in it because I don't want to taint the smell with my
own. Sometimes I feel it's all I have left to bring
myself back to reality. Even my memories seem like
something I've seen in a movie sometimes. I try not to
shut those off as well, but when you shut out the bad you
also shut out the good as well. Sometimes all I have is
when I'm in the moment. The only way you don't do that is
if you just make yourself become blind to all pain. If
you don't see it then you can't feel it.

The only way my life has any meaning to me is with
him...through him. I'm so caught up in my own pain that I
can't see beyond that to how lucky I really am even though
I have a pretty shitty life. Even as I write those
words "how lucky I really am" I don't believe it.




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