2018-04-04 13:05:43 (UTC)

cut-open carotid

"My Friend" by Dr. Dog

Keep on with the living you'll soon enough be dead
You got the whole world spinning in your head
And you don't want to give it up (don't give it up, don't give it up)
Cause no one should be sorry
We're just another day
You can say you'll be back
But you won't ever go away (won't go away, won't go away)
Cause love that never leaves is never ever welcome back
And I'm running out of skin thick enough to hide in (won't go away, won't go away)
Now hand in hand we're back in time we're chasing the train
Looking back looking back to wave goodbye
We're headed for the same disaster (don't give it up, don't give it up)

April 4, 2018 Wednesday 1:05 PM

I am pleased!
As usual, I live through a spiking heart monitor of emotion, especially yesterday! What a time. I barely got anything done between classes and work and anxiety??? I became very stressed about Moby, missed him more than I knew was possible, felt it tearing my gut to shreds, and I was annoyed because I love him (this I say without romantic connotations) and I just want to be able to be around him without causing either of us pain. But I decided that that isn't possible right now. I haven't told anyone about my decision because I didn't want to make it a Thing. I figured it'd be easy enough to enforce. As it is, Moby and I barely see each other. But still, I wanted to ask Marie—who is close friends with Moby—if this was the right decision, partly because I wanted her to tell me Moby all of a sudden misses me and wants to date me or something. I didn't end up asking her, but she mentioned that Moby was bring his girl, Sheila, to pride prom (which Marie and her girlfriend are also going to). And that, I think, was a colossal reality check for me. I had already known, and been reminded, that he really liked her. But, like, I don't know—now she has a name. Now she's a part of things, and maybe she'll become friends with us too and I will probably like her.

I can't describe it without sounding melodramatic, but I wanted to die, in short. I knew I didn't really want to die, but I also just really wanted to die. I kept seeing them being really happy and I kept feeling terrible about myself, and the things that I did, and I wondered if he was relieved to be with someone who wasn't as difficult as I am. I crawled in bed early and didn't do any homework. I read 1/5 of a book called "Veronika Decides to Die" (Nadiya recommended it). That was therapeutic. It was nice to see my own thoughts on paper, back when I was deluding myself into thinking i was suicidal. It is a peculiar thing, to struggle to maintain your suicidal ideation. The will to live keeps creeping back on in, and that is painful and scary. I don't yet know how I feel about the novel, but I think so far I kind of like it.

I slept seven and a half hours, treated myself to coffee with milk, and got to Calc late. The morning was very misty and it made me smile, the same way yesterday—before I died—the rain was cold and hit my face, soaked my hair, dripped behind my ears and I shivered but I wanted to live out there forever with my carotid artery cut open and diluted, overfilled and flowing, by the cold water; hypothalamus frantically rearranging my body in an attempt to keep the steam inside, but it would escape through the seams the open wound and curl up into the sky and I was so happy.

This is how I feel today; happy.

I have kept to my promise. I have not treated Moby as if he were special. I don't wave at him with my pinky, I don't give him finger-hugs (pointer and pinky finger in llama formation with the middle ones folded down, the arm goes in the slot between pinky and pointer and I squeeze inward twice). I don't send him memes or anything like that either. Sometimes, I want him to miss me, but I keep reminding myself that I am not doing this to be petty. I am trying to change the way I see him. I would be a little surprised if he actually noticed the changes. These are my private signifiers of affection.

I did see him just now. I'm in the lounge "studying" and he's on the other side. I said hello (full hand wave, not pinky), but I didn't stop for a conversation. I almost sat near him, but he'd already taken the desk by the window, which is what I wanted, so I went to a different side. I am proud that this was the basis of my decision; that it wasn't me forcing myself to get away from him. I will probably slide back to where I was before, where I miss him, but at least today is a respite from that haha. I can't wait to be friends with him. But I need to be patient. I'm not in that place yet.

Oh, okay, also! There is this poet I've been reading and I LOVE her??? Her name is Sarah Galvin. In my Literature class, we just read her book Ugly Time.

HERE IS ONE I REALLY LIKE!!!! IT'S CALLED "The Language of Come"

The saddest thing I've ever learned
is most people's come
is a foreign language,
retaining a fraction of its alien beauty
(if you're lucky)
by the time you've learned
what it means. Or worse,
it is calculus.

Like snow, every orgasm
with my first love turned
the house where I grew up
into a new place
where nothing terrible had happened,

but of course
the best thing about a new
place is meeting new people,
and wherever there is more
than one person,
something terrible happens.

What I mean is I'm not sad
because of you, I just wish
we could kiss
somewhere that isn't melting.

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