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I'm Suddenly Less
"Coward" by Hayden Calnin
On your knees and drown
She goes when he's ready
And I know she feels heavy
But she knows that he's dirty
To make her feel worthy
Oh, I'm suddenly less
And now he's gone backwards
Feeling more like a coward
January 18, 2015 10:11 PM
I quite love this song. I fell asleep to it last night.
"Oh, I'm suddenly less," is probably my favorite line because it hits me pretty hard, mostly because "suddenly less" is how I often find myself feeling. Like something was unexpectedly ripped from me.
There is something I haven't let go and I still cry at night before I go to sleep. It's the last thing drifting through my mind before I disappear. Even then, it's in my head. I think it's the root of my nightmares and the electricity in my brains (my neurons have gone crazy and they are shooting off much faster than necessary).
I also like the line, "She knows that he's dirty to make her feel worthy."
I don't understand it. What's dirty about making someone feel worthy? I have a hard time understanding the song itself. I'm trying to build a story around it. Someone in the youtube comments suggested it was about a double suicide, but I'm pretty sure the dude survives so I don't think it's that.
At the same time, I get a kind of guilty feeling from the guy. I'm just overall a bit confused by the singer switching from "he" to "I" and I need to figure out if he and I are the same person or... what, are there three subjects?
Anyway, the song is beautiful and the way his voice sounds is amazing and it makes me feel so sad and so good.
I am not good today. I was painting in a room for most of the day today. Even though the canvas is small and what I was doing was relatively simple, it was still very tedious and I didn't actually get a lot done.
I kept feeling waves of nausea and so I eventually had to stop painting, even though I still had a couple hours of daylight left. I then noticed the electricity.
My brain is going insane. I haven't felt like this in at least six months.
I used to get these "floaty feelings" where it felt like my head must've lost some gray matter because it was just way lighter than it was supposed to be. I'd get really paranoid that my body was a balloon tied to a fence post and the string wasn't strong enough to keep me down.
I didn't actually believe that was true, but it was more an emotion than a complete thought and it rushed through me every time I stood up.
so it was like that again today.
I don't feel anxious, though. I just have this weird buzzing in my head. It's constantly there, and when I get up, when I try to move, it gets stronger. Shockwaves of electricity radiating through my brain, down to my body, making my vision blurry and my stomach turn, and I swear I am stumbling all the time today.
I feel it behind my eyes and I have the insane urge to dig my fingers into my tear ducts so I can stroke the back of my eyes. I know there are muscles attached to the back of my eyeballs, but in my mind, there is nothing but smoothness, a little bumpier than a hard boiled egg, and it's covered in liquid and somehow, it makes the buzzing stop. It makes the dizziness go away, it makes everything disappear and I am okay. I want to press my fingers into my eyes. I want to hold them in my hands, I want everything to be painless. I want to see them outside my head, in my hands, warm and wet.
God, I am not sane today. I am very, very off, I am colored outside the lines. Do I make myself this way?
I looked it up and apparently, other anxious people have experienced this too. It's not auditory and it's not physical. It's just there and incredibly hard to describe. I feel like a video that won't load, I keep lagging and skipping and before I know it, gravity has almost pushed me down.
And I can't let go of the past. I keep thinking about it, and somehow, it goes along with trees and veins and lightning strikes. The thoughts, they branch out, they get smaller and I don't even know what
What the fuck?
What am I saying? Fuck????
Fuck. I feel so weird and I am so... so... god, my head is waving, it's going up and down and it won't stop moving and tonight
Tonight, I'll cry in my pillow because that's what i do when I can't let go
And here is the cause:
I am anxious.
I am irrationally anxious, and it is driving me insane.
I became anxious due to this art thing that I am desperate to get into.
I am working so hard, so fucking hard (harder than I ever have on anything) to get things done, to be artistic
I am only a self-taught girl.
That's it. I'm self-taught, when it comes down to it. I learn from watching, and I can't stand watching things in school.
So yeah. I have no training on my side, I am average at best, I am not special which fucking SUCKS since art is the only FUCKING thing that I've ever been good at. It breaks me down. I am somehow not good enough. I tried so hard and I'm not good enough.
I am not good at socializing and when I am average at best at every thing else. I am never better and I just want to be happy, I just want to do art because it makes me feel good and because it allows me to fucking let go
But it's never finished unless it's seen and someone tells me they want to keep it forever, they want to stare at it, my own opinion is not enough
Having to be creative dredges up old feelings. I get inspiration from the things I find beautiful, and my kind of beauty is usually sad. So I go to my sad parts, I go to where it hurts, and I do my art
And then I cry because I hadn't thought about that in awhile and here it is again, killing me
I ate and it was almost like I was in the hospital cafeteria again. Sitting alone, quietly, staring out the windows while listening to everyone talk. Choosing my food very, very carefully and eating very, very slowly.
I still finished first.
Sat there for awhile.
We'd go back to our buildings where I'd spend the day reading, alone in my room, other than designated times for group therapy or outdoor playtime or whatever other activities they had.
My heart always beat so hard during group therapy. God, I hates those uncomfortable chairs and how fat I was.
The carpet was one, uniform color, but I found patterns in the threads. I stared at things a lot. Somehow, the bright colors of the hospital walls only made things more depressing and surreal.
Sometimes, people would talk to me and I would feel so, deeply uncomfortable. Those were the bad days.
I took my pills with pleasure. Anything to get to sleep. Before I was authorized for medication, I had to lie in those uncomfortable beds under itchy wool blankets (the pillows were paper thin with coverings that felt like hospital gowns) and would be awake for hours, just thinking, trying desperately to avoid the extreme guilt that made up my entire body at the time.
Sometimes, when I was bored, I'd find ways to hurt myself. I took a stupid plastic toothbrush, the really crappy kind that they gave you, and I bent it so it had a kind-of sharp edge. Then, I used to it scrape away my skin until I had a scab, I had a secret, something to hide, something to feel.
My first room mate was a pathological liar. She stole my favorite pair of jeans.
She was nice.
It was an adventure, of sorts, and I guess I like that I have the experiences but the feelings that surround those memories make me cry. They make me cry so hard because I forgot.
I feel like I forgot.
Which is strange, since I always think about those days.
I guess I just kind of forgot the details.
God. I feel so sick. My stomach is turning, over and over, relentlessly, so I should go to bed.
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