Right Where It Belongs - Nine Inch Nails

"I keep dreaming about you. It's undeniable: you're the star of my nighttime world, the prima donna of my subconscious stage, the headliner of my brain's Broadway. I may choose not to attend any of the events, but I still see your face on the billboards everywhere.

See the animal in his cage that you built
Are you sure what side you're on?
Better not look him too closely in the eye
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?

"I still care. I'd say that this fact is obvious, but you haven't taken the time out of your life to try to talk to me, have you? The last real contact I got from you was a box of things on my front porch with a letter inside, a letter that hurt me more than everything combined, and a thirty-minute phone-call, a time limit to bear my soul to you. I can't even begin to describe how much the box, the letter, and the time limit broke me, but I still care.

"I can't blame you for feeling hurt. I can't, because I know very well that it's my fault. I can understand that you've been feeling betrayed and hurt and upset, because I broke your trust. What I can't understand though, is how someone as brilliant as you, someone as intelligent and contemplative as you, could not see that I broke too, I've had to face my demons and escape my insecurities; that there could be the slightest possibility that I may have grown as a person, changed my ways, matured.

See the safety of the life you have built
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart
And it's all
Right where it belongs

"I've always said that you're smarter than me. You used to deny it, and tell me 'Babbie, you know you're not stupid', but it's true. Intellectually, you excel, you're on a completely different level from me. I have creativity where you have contemplation, I have art where you have forethought, I have spontaneity where you have rationality. While that may have been your advantage as far as schooling went, where I struggled to do the simplest of classwork and you were blazing through like nobody's business, it is in this case your downfall...

"You told me you were pushing me out of your life because I was a negative influence. That may have been true then, but *insert cliche tone here* I've changed, I swear. Fact of the matter is that I can't prove this to you by simply saying so. You'd have to let me back in to be witness.

"I don't think you know that sometimes the hardest thing to do is let someone back in, but more often than not it yields the most gratifying results. You haven't had your heart broken the way I have, you haven't broken hearts the way I have. Mentally, you're far more mature than I am. Romantically, I have seniority if only for the fact that I've broken and been broken more than you can imagine.

"I hold scars deeper than even you've seen. I let you in further than anyone else in my life, through tentative prying and stepping outside my comfortable box, I let you in; can you imagine how much deeper than that the scars might run? You know nothing of hurt feelings. You know nothing of broken hearts, but I'm learning to heal myself, and all I want to do is share this epiphany with you.

What if everything around you
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know
Is an elaborate dream?

"I keep dreaming of you. The dreams feel so real to me that when I wake up, I'm not sure if the real world is the one that I've just entered, or the one I just left behind on my pillow..."

As part of the poetry section of my creative writing class, we've been keeping journals and writing observations of the world around us. In a way, it's unlocked us all from a sensory standpoint, allowing us to take in every detail in the blink of an eye and turn it into poetry. My professor has consistently given me perfect marks on my poetry, despite the fact that I hate writing poetry and always have. She keeps writing me little notes on my papers, notes like "I can feel your emotions as if they were my own!" and separating paragraphs of my journal narrative, writing in "this, in itself, is a poem!" Probably the one that struck me the deepest was "I love the way you really take time to think about all this and then just dive in!"

I didn't even realize it, but this class has opened me up both as a writer and as a person. Now, I know exactly why I feel what I feel, instead of just being taken along for the ride. I understand the source of my feelings as much as the feelings themselves, I can observe, analyze, and capture my thoughts and actions as quickly as they come, writing them on paper as if seeing them in slow motion.

This class has made me see what kind of a person I truly am; it's made me dig deep into myself, right down to the deepest core where even I'm afraid to tread, and to drag back my thoughts and feelings by their scruffy tails. It's made me an addict to the written word, an addict to the blank page and the smooth ink of a comfortable pen. It's made me an addict to recording everything I perceive.

And if you look at your reflection
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks?
Would you find yourself
Find yourself afraid to see?

The excerpt above was taken from my journal, a place that before starting my creative writing class, was a sparse collection of miscellaneous days, events that were few and far between. Since beginning the class, my journal has filled to almost the halfway point, a huge conglomeration of words and feelings and believe it or not, poetry.

Despite the rather large collection of poems I have hidden in the back of my closet, I actually despise writing poetry. I hate it to no end. I'd much rather be writing prose than poetry, yet consistently people compliment my poems, relate, and I have no idea why, because I spent every second of scrawling them out loathing the fact that I had to write them in the first place. My journal has become a playground of poetry, and my English professor has given me the contact information to some small publishers to send my poems in to. She's that confident in my work.

Through the writing process in this class, I've turned myself inside out emotionally, dragged up the best and worst of my memories and my personalities, sifted through all the repressed emotions of the last five years and pulled out gleaming gems, little bits of profound thought straight from my core. From this soul search, I've found something...

What if all the world's inside of your head
Just creations of your own?
Your devils and your gods
All the living and the dead
And you're really all alone?

I'm burying the best of myself within the pain of myself over the worst parts of myself.

Allow me to explain:

Before: I used to sleep for a dozen hours a day, relishing my dreams for their whimsical quality. I filled my life  with art and music and laughter, and spent hours with some of my closest friends. I did what I wanted when I wanted, because I felt like I wanted to. I didn't have much going for me, but I was damn happy with where I was.

Now: I sleep an average of three hours a day, because my dreams have driven me to the brink of insanity. I've filled my life with a full-time love-hate minimum-wage job, a full-time school schedule, hours and hours of studying for upper division classes I barely understand, high levels of involvement in extra-curricular activities (such as the six clubs I'm currently active in), and any extra time I get is dedicated to finding something new to distract myself with (i.e., the four languages I'm trying to pick up on, the twelve different personal reading books I'm currently reading, the list is ever-growing). I do what I can with the time that I have when it isn't filled with something else. I now have almost everything going for me, and I couldn't hate my life (or myself) more.

You can live in this illusion
You can choose to believe
You keep looking but you can't find the woods
While you're hiding in the trees

 I can't stop moving or distracting myself for more than an hour because that puts me at high risk of complete emotional crisis.

I have to schedule in little things like showers and eating.

The little shadows under my eyes have become a permanent feature.

All my days are blurring together in a conglomeration of names, numbers, and faces. I can't tell Tuesday from Friday and vice versa, the product of my lack of sleep.

I feel like a horrible friend, because the amount of time I have free for friends dwindles more every day, as does my capacity to prioritize them.

I see my family very little; usually I get to see my parents for all of twenty minutes in the mornings, and lately I  only get to see my sisters on the weekends. I live with these people.

I'm the shittiest sister/daughter, but I'm the optimum student, working at full mental capacity as much as possible to get through as much work as possible with the most comprehensive answers using the least research necessary. I'm so dedicated to studying that I'm willing to risk permanent spinal damage if it means I'll have my textbooks with me to study at every opportunity.

I've shocked myself with my own capacity for dedication to school. My whole first year of college was spent with the boyfriend convincing me every evening to do my homework, and convincing me to spend an hour studying for class, and convincing me to wake up to go to class. I was thoroughly convinced upon beginning this semester that I would crash and burn because I lacked the kick-in-the-pants person to motivate me to study.

Despite all this, it doesn't change the base reason behind my full-time distraction lifestyle.

What if everything around you
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you used to know
Is an elaborate dream?

This doesn't change the fact that I know exactly why I can't say no to a club activity, or ask for a day off at work, or turn down a study group on campus, or simply go home before ten in the evening.

It doesn't change my frustrations over his stubbornness. It doesn't change that I'm here becoming the very best I could be, ridding myself of all the behaviors that caused my breakup in the first place, and his pride is getting in the way.

It doesn't change the fact that my heart is still broken, and all my self-improvement counts for nothing toward changing that.

It doesn't change the fact that I'm losing myself in my so-called "healthy, productive lifestyle". It doesn't change the fact that everything in my life is Right Where It Belongs, and I've never felt so lost.

And if you look at your reflection
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks
Would you find yourself
Find yourself afraid to see?

It doesn't change the fact that I still care.

Pomegranate - Courtney Marie Andrews

I'm aching. I've gotten my peace, and still I ache.

Dried up flowers on your dashboard

Pomegranate in your teeth

I told you that forever is what you looked like to me

In the shrubberies of summer, in the dying desert leaves

My heart pines for you, and... I can't stop it. I thought that after getting the forgiveness, the peace, the closure, that I would be able to let go. Maybe it's wrong of me to feel this way, but... I still want you. I still crave you. I still feel so much in my heart for you. You, who brought me to life.

On our first date, we saw Courtney perform... this was the first song she played. I remember we spent the majority of the show sitting awkwardly next to each other, hands twitching anxiously for the other... It wasn't until a week later that you and I held hands, and kissed, and snuggled... From there, every day with you was a treasure. I can't even begin to describe the wonder you brought into my life.

I don't understand why I keep feeling for you. I don't understand how I could feel the amazing life-changing peace of forgiveness and the gentle warmth of closure and yet stand here today with the ever-persistent ache of a missing half. You were the only person I was ever hesitant to love, because you were the only person I was ever afraid of loving.

Answers pending in your mailbox

Silence filling the room

Our love survived like flowers

in the harshest winter's snow

In the valley where the sun sets pink

Where the grey men and their wives go

I don't know what good saying all this will do. I honestly don't. There's that part of me that sits like an anchor in my mind, holding me back from what I want to do. Were I more... courageous... I would run to you right now, no holds barred, no concern for work or school, I would run to you and... well... that's where things go fuzzy. I don't know what I would do.

All I know is that the idea of being with anyone but you feels wrong. The way being around unpleasant people feels wrong. The way having a vital part of you removed feels wrong. The way losing a family member before their time feels wrong...

Being left alone with your thoughts for days, especially with thoughts as fast-moving as mine, gives you the time to reach a lot of conclusions, visit many different perspectives, and examine all the options as well as ponder the current state of your life... well... No matter which way I look at it, no matter what the scenario, there's nothing but you. The whole world has turned lackluster and undesirable, all but thoughts of you.

I feel happier wrapped in memories of you and me, smiling to myself about when we used to argue about who said "I love you" first. I sleep better immersed in thoughts of your smile than without.

 Tell me your secrets I promise I will bury them in the dirt

even if they hurt me, oh so deeply

I will mask my quiet concerns

Tell me your lies, tell me that you knew her

Tell me that you knew her more than me

I will compromise, keep you in my ear

forgive the morning and the evening

and anything and everything

I know that you and I have been hurting... and I know that things can't be the same. So why do I keep aching? Why do I still feel love for you? Why do I keep feeling that if I just talk to you, we could rebuild? We could begin again... if we both tried.

Hate Me - Blue October

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?
And will you never try to reach me?
It is I that wanted space

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

I’m sober now for 3 whole months it’s one accomplishment that you helped me with
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won’t touch again
In a sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I’ll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling “Make it go away!”
Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered “How can you do this to me?”

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you
For you
For you
For you


Once upon a time, these words saved my life.

For the longest time, this song was my salvation, keeping me back from the edge. This song got me through the very worst of times, where I was nothing more than a husk, a facade of humanity. Once, long ago, this song was my anchor to sanity.

Now. . . now this song is a reminder, a cruel mental blight that never ceases to reiterate in my mind that I irreparably fucked up. This song, which once upon a time saved me from suicide, is now the one song I can't bring myself to listen to, yet can't stop hearing in my head; the one song that just might push me over the edge forever.

Panic Attack - Dream Theater

Reader(s), I'm scared.

Today, thoughts of death are my companions. They are a scattered collection of fragmented ideas that I thought I'd left behind long ago. I thought for the longest time that my worries were gone, that I wouldn't have to face the impending doom that is my eventual fate.

>All wound up<
>On the edge<
>Terrified<

As the title of this post may suggest, I experienced a panic attack this evening.

Ever since experiencing my first attack on my 19th birthday in the pit of an Iron Maiden show, I've been... wary of stress. I've been conscious of my heart-rate, careful of my breathing, and always at the ready to find a reason to calm down.

Since the show, I've experienced numerous small anxiety attacks, characterized normally by elevated breathing and an inability to move for several minutes. They've been more frequent in the last couple months, for obvious reasons. Stress is a familiar thing for me now.

>Sleep disturbed<
>Restless mind<
>Petrified<

All my precautions, all my calming thoughts, all my practiced breathing, nothing could have prepared me for the full physical assault of stress and anxiety and emotion that ensued tonight. It was like a truck hit me square in the chest, shattering my ribs and collapsing my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath and in immense pain. I felt my legs go weak from the shuddering in my chest, felt my lips trembling from grasping for oxygen. I was shaking so horribly, gasping so frantically, I was folding in on myself, finally an external projection of my internal self.

>Bouts of fear<
>Permeate<
>All I see<

It felt as though every nerve in my body was shot simultaneously, then resuscitated only to be shot again. It was wave after wave of oxygen-starved pain from head to toe. 

>Heightening<
>Nervousness<
>Threatens me<

Everything started to turn red, then I couldn't see anything. I was grasping at my throat, trying to find even a whisper of air, but when there came no air, no breath, I began to panic even more, and the experience only intensified. I could almost feel myself dying, collapsing from a lack of breath, stopped cold in the apex of my life. I've never felt a fear so intense in my life.

>I am paralyzed<
>So afraid to die<

Even with a mass of human flesh closing in on me, physically threatening to crack my ribs to the tune of Aces High, I wasn't this scared. Even as my throat was physically being crushed and my only salvation was the backwards pull of his comforting arms around my shoulders, I wasn't this scared. I wasn't alone then. I was panicking, but at least then, I had a hand to hold while I slowed my breathing, while I made my head stop reeling. I wasn't afraid of dying then.

>Caught off guard<
>Warning signs<
>Never show<

I've never known what it's like to have fear and sadness and anxiety take physical form like this. I've always felt them as nothing more than a fleeting sinking feeling in my stomach, or a bitter pang in my chest, but never like this. I can honestly say I was unaware of my body's ability to take the emotional and turn it into something like this. This... this pox. This disease.

>Tension strikes<
>Choking me<
>Worries grow<

I don't know how long I blacked out, only that I did. I just... I recall getting into the shower, and in the midst of scrubbing my hair, having my entire physical being crushed, and when I thought I could take no more of it, everything went blank. The next thing I knew, I was wrapped up in a blanket, shivering on my bed, heart racing, breathing still elevated but within controllable limits. I don't know what happened between Point A and Point B, but now that I'm relatively calmed down, I find it prudent to write down the experience before I forget.

>Why do I feel so numb<
>Is it something to do with where I come from<
>Should this be fight or flight<
>I don't know why I'm constantly so uptight<

In my post-panic state, I can't tell if I'm grateful for the encroaching physical and emotional numbness, or if I'm sad to see the invigoration of panic go. Despite nearly experiencing my death, I almost enjoyed the near-sensation of it.

>Rapid heartbeat pounding through my chest<
>Agitated body in distress<
>I feel like I'm in danger<
>Daily life is strangled by my stress<

I can't tell if I should be wary of another attack, or just excited at the knowledge that I can feel something. In a twisted way, I almost want to experience it again, just to know what it's like to have my heart race for something. I almost want to stand on the brink of death, just to see if I'll fall back or forward into the cold embrace of nothingness.

>A stifling surge<
>Shooting through all my veins<
>Extreme apprehension<
>Suddenly I'm insane<

These are the thoughts that scare me. These are the thoughts that weave their way through my mind when I'm trying to be happy, when I'm trying to fix myself. These are the thoughts that make me wonder what gear got knocked loose in my head, and how long it's been loose. These are the thoughts that make me curious as to how I've survived my life for this long.

>Lost all hope for redemption<
>A grave situation desperate at best<

I'm so indecisive. I wish I could just... choose, whether to feel the lively palpitating of my heart as I feel all my fears come to a point, or to wrap myself comfortably in the numbness that I'm so familiar with. I'm beginning to feel conscious of everything I wish for, all the would-be's and could-have-been's and might-be-so's that I so often live in. I would that I could start living in the present as-is, but the tantalizing thoughts of my fantasies are so much more beautiful than the stark, sharp reality I'm so resentful to.

>Why do I feel so numb<
>Is it something to do with where I come from<
>Should this be fight or flight<
>I don't know why I'm constantly reeling<

I feel an optimistic longing for a better tomorrow, as well as a stubborn attachment to the beautiful yesterdays, coupled with a bitter resentment for the depressing lack of life that is today. It creates a confusion in me that makes death seem like an awfully comforting companion.

>Helpless hysteria<
>A false sense of urgency<
>Trapped in my phobia<
>Possessed by anxiety<

I guess the agitating thing is that I can't hide from what's inside my head. I can't escape the ever-present thoughts of mistakes and trials and stresses and fears, the never-ending torrent of words and emotions and noises that flows through my head.

>Run<
>Try to hide<
>Overwhelmed by this complex delirium<

I wish I could escape the fears, the anxieties, the sheer panic of an unending thought-stream. I wish I could know the feeling of a clear segment of thoughts, an easy-to-understand stream of consciousness, or better yet, the feeling of hearing no thoughts at all. In all the confusion that normally plagues my brain, the idea of a clear, thin line of thought is like the sound of trumpeting angels in the sky.

>Helpless hysteria<
>A false sense of urgency<
>Trapped in my phobia<
>Possessed by anxiety<

I don't know how, and I don't know when, but somehow, I must fix this. I must learn to control my fear, my anguish. I just don't know.

>Run<
>Try to hide<
>Overwhelmed by this complex delirium<

So that's the story of my evening. I suppose... tonight the thoughts of death kind of count as... cynically suicidal, but kind of contemplating my narrow escape. I can't tell if the persisting thoughts are memory or the contemplation of a future event,  but I'm too exhausted to care at the moment, so I'm going to just... sleep, I suppose.

Hopefully tomorrow will arrive with better experiences in tow...

Winter Winds - Mumford & Sons

Being home all day has its perks. For one, getting to sleep off sickness all day is pretty great. For another, not having to get dressed is even better. Unfortunately it also means spending the whole day alone with your thoughts, which in my case is not exactly good news. I made the comparison earlier today that being alone with my thoughts is like being locked in a pit with dogs: they're amiable enough for the first little bit, but as soon as they get hungry, I start looking less like a friend and more like a meal. It's one of the reasons I can't stand being alone as of late. Being left alone with my thoughts is a sure-fire way to send me plunging into one of those catatonic comatose days, where on the surface I'm serene, calm, at peace, but inside I'm a tempest of emotions and confusion.

It's getting colder outside, and it feels like I'm getting colder inside as the temperature drops. The winter winds are coming through, carrying the chill of loneliness, and driving people toward the warmth. I'm trying to keep reminding myself that I just need to take this one day at a time, that one of these days I'll wake up, and it won't hurt any more...

{As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts}
{Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms}
{Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?}
{For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt}

And then I woke up this morning and realized how long I've been alone.

I've been alone for over a month now, and I didn't even comprehend the passing of days until time suddenly slowed down for me. All of October has come and gone while I ached, while I cried, while I sunk within myself. I can't tell whether I should be glad that so much time has passed, or miserable that it's been so long and I'm still on square one.

I keep having nightmares. I keep wishing that I could have someone sleeping next to me, someone to ward off the cold thoughts that keep me from rest. I keep wishing that I could have that happiness back, even just a fraction of the warmth that I once had.

I keep dreaming of him.

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no}
{This time no"}

His face pervades every moment of my sleep, driving me to insanity with every passing moment. I keep telling myself that I need to let go. Everyone keeps telling me I need to let go, to move on, to get on with my life, and as much as I try, still the images persist, and always with the same pattern.

I dream of all our best moments, I dream of the day I met him, I dream of the happiest days of my life, and I dream of all the kind words I once heard from his lips, the soft caress of his hand on my shoulder when I slept, the warmth of his body next to mine as he held me until I could sleep. I dream of his laugh, his smile, his eyes, the tickle of his beard on my forehead, the steady beat of his heart. I dream of the way we used to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and then everything changes.

I start to see his eyes flash with anger, his smile turns to a grimace, his laugh a staunch denial to me. I start to see all our fights flash before my eyes, all the cross words between us, all the worst days I put us through, I dream of the way he cringed away from my touch on the last day I saw him, the way he refused to embrace me, the way something so beautiful and so true turned into something so twisted and grotesque, something ugly and angry and unforgiving.

I wake several times a night, cold with sweat, chilled to the bone, shaking with something; I can't tell if it's tears or anger or fear. I wake each time with a pit in my stomach, guilt stabbing me with every passing second until I can force myself to sleep again.

{We'll be washed and buried one day my girl}
{And the time we were given will be left for the world}
{The flesh that lived and loved will be eaten by plague}
{So let the memories be good for those who stay}

It's maddening. I used to sleep dreaming of fantastic worlds with no sense or reason, a veritable Wonderland with every passing night. I used to be able to tell tales of my dream world that made people laugh for their nonsensical hilarity. People used to wait to hear about my dreams in the mornings, but now, I don't even know that I can safely call them dreams.

I'm so mixed in all of this. While this time through the depression, I have such amazing, supportive people here to keep me going, to keep me moving, I'm also experiencing things that never happened before. I'm being robbed of the security of knowing the territory I'm in. I'm receiving more help than ever, and more often than not, it feels futile because I just don't know how to handle what I'm experiencing.

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no"}
{Yes, my heart told my head}
{"This time no}
{This time no"}

I never had nightmares in the past. Even in the worst days, I was able to sleep comfortably through the night and enjoy my dream world in the very least. Sleeping was the only thing I had to look forward to at one point, because dreaming was so much more appealing than real life. Now, I don't even have that. I can't even go through my day with the goal of getting to sleep, because now, I'm afraid to even sleep.

I don't know what to do. I can't comprehend in any way, shape, or form what to do to remedy this. I'm essentially stuck in a whirlpool with no way to escape, nothing good to look forward to, no clue as to what I should do to escape. The less rest I get, the more muddled my thoughts get, and the muddier they get, the more bitter and confused and depressed I get, and the more guilt I start to feel, and the less rest I get.

{Oh the shame that sent me off from the God that I once loved}
{Was the same that sent me into your arms}
{Oh and pestilence is won when you are lost and I am gone}
{And no hope, no hope will overcome}

I spent several days in California recently, partially for Disneyland, partially for the beach, partially for a family wedding. It was meant to be a wonderful vacation, a fun-filled trip wherein I could be so cheerful that I'd be singing Zipadee Doo-dah from where the sun doesn't shine. We left home early Wednesday morning, and I was hopeful, excited to be leaving town for a few days and seeing my family members again, and going to Disneyland, and seeing the ocean again.

The drive went by in a beautiful blur. I slept for hours beneath the cover of a top hat, nestled beneath my warmest blanket, cuddled up to my Lotso Huggin' Bear, with Blue October playing in my headphones and keeping me relaxed for the long expanses of road. When we arrived in California, I was ecstatic to see that from our windows, we could watch the ocean lapping at the shore, a mere roadway away from our motel. I walked out to the railing overlooking the ocean, stopping to stare at the dancing waves.

... and I felt this... this overwhelming sense of bitterness wash over me.

{And if your strife strikes at your sleep}
{Remember spring swaps snow for leaves}
{You'll be happy and wholesome again}
{When the city clears and sun ascends}

It startled me. It scared me. After weeks and weeks of void and sadness and sinking, the sharp, angry feeling startled me. I couldn't understand what brought it on. I couldn't grasp what could have made me switch so sharply, to make such a U-turn in my thought process. I couldn't decide if I was angry at myself, angry at him, angry at the whole situation, or if I was just... angry to be angry.

I felt the emptiness in my right palm. The place where so often I felt a palm pressed against mine; I felt the chill on the back of my right hand, where so often I felt fingertips curled, resting against my skin. For the first time in all the weeks of being alone, I felt... more alone than ever. I missed having that hand to hold. It's possibly one of the biggest things I took for granted.

I do admit, I felt a portion of the bitterness toward him consciously. This trip had been the last big plan between us. He had been personally invited to the wedding, my parents had told all my aunts and uncles and cousins that he'd be coming along, that he'd finally get to meet all of them. I'd been excited to show him my dad's side of the family, to show him what a loud, raucous, excited group of people my family is. I was so... so excited.

Instead, I got to explain to every one of my aunts, uncles, and cousins, one after another throughout the entire evening, where my wonderful boyfriend was. My night, while it was beautiful, while the ceremony was amazing, while everything was so immaculate, was outright Hell. All night my ears rang with the phrases:

"Weren't you going to bring your boy?"

"Hey, Cloudy, where's your boyfriend? I was so excited to meet him."

"Isn't there that man in your life? What happened to him? I thought you were bringing him?"

I left the room numerous times to go hide out in the bathroom and cry like an infant. I was ashamed of myself that even after all these weeks since it happened, I still break down and cry at the mere mention of the breakup, any mention of my "wonderful boyfriend" and any inquiry into how I'm handling it.

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no"}

I had my favorite cousin calling me a cliche all night long. "Hey, Claudia, don't you find it kind of hilarious that you and your boyfriend broke up, and now you're at a wedding?"

Um, no. I don't find it hilarious. I don't even find it marginally funny. I don't even find it remotely worth a chuckle. I find it amazingly miserable and pathetic. I find it depressing, and infuriating, and frankly the exact opposite of hilarious.

I wanted so badly to punch him in the face, right in the middle of a wedding reception.

On top of that, my favorite uncle kept smothering me with hugs (which on normal occasions I wouldn't have minded) and rubbing my hair into a mess, saying "No more long face! Forget the boy, get on with your life!" and then letting go leaving me a messy-haired grump.

I just wanted to stop him in his whirlwind of affection, right there and say "Tio Pablo, if you had met this boy, you wouldn't be telling me to get on with my life. You wouldn't be telling me to forget him, or to remove my long face. No, you'd be looking me in the eye and saying 'Girl, you find a way to fight for that love, and you fight for it no matter what!' instead of coddling me and telling me to forget him. Tio, if you'd met him..."

{And my head told my heart}
{"Let love grow"}
{But my heart told my head}
{"This time no}
{This time no"}

I know, given the circumstances of the breakup (which you may or may not know, but really don't need to know), that it's incredibly childish and selfish for me to be angry at him over not attending my cousin's wedding with me; to be angry at him for not going on vacation with a person I'm sure he couldn't stand to be around for more than a few minutes. I don't have the right to be mad at him for being human, but still, I was angry at him, if anything for the simple reason that because of him leaving me, I was humiliated in front of my whole family...

I have no right to feel the bitterness that mingles with the sadness now. I shouldn't feel the anger or the fury or the indignant grouchiness that pervades my day. I shouldn't feel as cold as Winter Winds over something that's my fault, except to myself. This harrowing bitterness is just misguided, and needs only to turn and face its source to know its true purpose...

Burn - In This Moment

Well, I'm back. Still nothing too positive to say at the moment, though I wish I had something. Just... something brilliant to say. Something useful, or wise, or profound, but really all I have is more musings from the pit of despair that is my day-to-day life.

I thought for a moment several days back that I might just be able to get through this thing in one piece, that I might be able to overcome my depression for the first time ever without having to hit rock-bottom first. I thought this because for the first time since the breakup, I laughed. Really, genuinely laughed. I felt the shaking tremors of euphoria break through the numbness for a glorious hour, and for a moment after feeling that laughter, I thought that maybe I could turn myself around without needing therapy or drugs or someone to lift me up.

Of course, this clearly isn't the case, since I'm melancholy again. I keep going through these cycles in my head, where I'll succumb to the depression, experience something that gives me hope, float a little on the hope I've found, have that hope crushed, and then I just... wither in on myself and cry myself to exhaustion, at which point I can't even bring myself to care any more, and the cycle begins anew.

Some days, I only go through the cycle once, and manage to make it through my entire day before having my hope crushed. Other days, like today, I go through this cycle numerous times, bringing myself to both physical and emotional exhaustion from the whirlwind of confusion. I go from chipper and optimistic to borderline catatonic in a matter of minutes at a time. In mere seconds, I've gone from well-composed interactive human and melted to the floor into a blubbering, sobbing, snot-dripping mass of self-pity and self-loathing. I feel like a worthless excuse for a human being.

I want to be happy.

I want to feel normal.

I want to go through a day where I don't feel like my mind is a recreation of the Salem Witch Trials, with me on the stake and all my self loathing surrounding the pyre, laughing and jeering and mocking my pain as I burn to death again and again. I want to be okay. I just want to be okay.


I feel this is the beginning
The beginning through the end
There’s nothing left to fear now
So watch me close as once again you


In the days since my last post, I've made some changes to my living arrangements. At the time of my last post, I was camped out on the couch in the family room of my basement, with an assortment of miscellaneous distractions surrounding me. The room had become my surrogate cave because my actual bedroom had become a depressing black hole of doom with no possible way of making it from one end of the room to the other without severe injuries. In subsequent days, my family got so fed up with my camping that I was pretty well told that I would have to clean my room and sleep comfortably or sleep in the mess. Either way, I was being evicted from the couch. So my room was cleaned in the course of a whole Sunday, and is now clean enough to see the floor, open the closet, find things even.

I've relocated from the couch to my own bed, and while physically, I'm benefiting from being on a mattress instead of lumpy couch cushions, my nightmares persist, and if anything, they've gotten worse since the move. I hate that. I hate that I can't sleep without seeing the faces of everyone I've wronged, glaring at me and criticizing my imperfections even in my dreams.

I hate that right when everything started turning my way, the entire world started to crumble around me.

I hate that even now, I can't be glad that things have finally turned in my favor, I just keep sinking into myself and hating anything and everything. I hate that I can't even be properly sad any more, because being sad just makes me hate myself more, and acting sad causes my mind to go into a frenzy of more self-loathing. It's gotten to the point where I have to choose between going through vicious cycles of sadness and self-abuse or catatonic disinterest in the world.


Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me ressurect
Right before your eyes


There's a reason that In This Moment and Blue October tie as my two favorite bands, and there's a reason that I've been listening to so much of their music lately. Blue October is my sadness music, and In This Moment is my rage music, so being in my horrible cycles between sadness and rage creates this bizarre combination craving for the two voices. I wish that Justin Furstenfeld and Maria Brink could just create a hybridized vocal mutation that could satisfy my feelings without having to change my playlist every five seconds.

I've been a soupy mess of thoughts, despite my whirling tsunami of distracting behaviors. The other day, Victoria was saying how she was grateful to have finally gotten a moment to just think, and all I could say was "I'm jealous. I wish I could be so busy that I didn't have time to think, but even when I am busy, I can't stop thinking."

I keep thinking about all the things I could have done to prevent this. I keep thinking what I could do to change what has happened. I keep thinking what I would do if I was given another chance, and I keep thinking of how I'll most likely never be given that chance, and how I should just move on with my life. I keep thinking about how I don't want to get on with my life, because a part of me is just pitifully clinging to that small shred of hope that by some bizarre universal alignment, things might go back to the way they were.

I. Just. Keep. Thinking.

I can't stop it, it's like a wildfire in my head with an endless supply of fuel to burn and no firefighters on duty. Again and again I burn, inside and out. My motivations are running short, my dedications are faltering. I'm facing a critical virus that's eventually going to make me overheat and crash.


There’s no reason to cry now
There’s nothing to forgive
This suffering’s my blessing
The death of sin is how I live
Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me ressurect
Right before your eyes
Set me on fire
And watch me burn
Set me on fire
And watch me


Yet for some horrible, cynical reason, I almost enjoy the feeling of being caught between sadness and rage. I'd rather have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach than feel nothing. I'm grateful for my emotional torment, in my own horribly sick way, because I know that feeling pain means I'm still alive, still breathing, still capable of progress.

I'm like that sick twisted kid on the playground who scrapes his knee and finds it hilarious to poke and prod at the bleeding wound. It's something that's completely new to me. In all the months of depression I've gone through in the past, I've never had the luxury of pain.

I've never had the opportunity to choose between the numbness and something else.

There was only ever just the numbness. But now, there's this, and I feel strangely grateful for it.

Despite all of it though, I'm just... tired. I'm tired of going through ups and downs all day every day, and not sleeping soundly, and being tormented by my subconscious every waking and sleeping moment of every day. I'm tired of being depressed. I'm tired of being incapable of living my life the way I want to because of my own pitiful inability. I'm tired of waking up every morning wishing that I could just roll over and sleep the rest of my life away.

I'm tired of being sad.


Burn me alive
Set me on fire
And watch me die
Burn me alive
Watch me ressurect
Right before your eyes


I don't know what it is, but something needs to change in my life. Be it location, occupation, sexual orientation, I don't know. I just know that right now, with my life the way it is, I'll be depressed for a really long time, with no real hope for survival, and I don't want that. Something in my life is keeping me from the future I want, and I don't know what it is, but I'm going to hunt it down and change it. Me. Just me, because relying on other people has gotten me nowhere.

I'm damn grateful for the support I have, but right now, support is all I can accept. I can't let myself be helped out of this. I can't let someone take me by the hand and say "here, Claudzie, this is the way out" because that'll just be a fast-track right back here to Square One. I can't let that happen, since Square One will always be where I burn...

I Gave You All - Mumford & Sons

Well, I told myself about two hours ago that I would be going to sleep, but the Hundred Songs part of me had other ideas. I had a wonderfully long and wildly emotional conversation tonight with the girl who by all means has helped me survive the last... long while. And... well, long story short, we have this post.

I've been listening to a wide variety of everything lately, and tonight, I heard this song, and I just... I had to pull up this derned blog and write about it, because that's just what I do.

I give you my sleepless post, I Gave You All, by Mumford & Sons. This post... is a thank-you. From a Cloud to her Sky... If ever he reads this, then may it help heal the hurt, for both of us. I never really got the chance to thank you for everything you did.

~Rip the earth in two with your mind~
~Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires~
~I never meant you any harm~
~But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm~

You told me some days ago that you were tired of shouldering the burden of our relationship. For that I thank you. Thank you for being strong when I was just a participant. Thank you for being a pillar when I was just a bird, there to perch whenever I felt like it. Thank you for letting me cry on you when I had no reason. Thank you for listening when I all I had were harsh words to say. Thank you for enduring where I was weak.

~But close my eyes for a while~
~Force from the world a patient smile~

Thank you for your endless patience with my insecurities and my frustrations and my grief. Thank you for being all you could be. Thank you for being so understanding when the words just couldn't pass my lips in the right order. Thank you for smiling when the only thing I gave you was a curt reply.

~How can you say that your truth is better than ours?~
~Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms~
~The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home~
~If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won~

You told me once that you felt like I was icing you out. I thank you for staying close all the same. Thank you for trusting me when trust was the last thing I deserved. Thank you for patiently letting me be the worst I could be, though you made me want to be the best me. Thank you for laughing when I got all the punch-lines wrong in the crummy jokes I told. Thank you for telling me everything, even when I told you nothing.

~But I gave you all~

You told me a long time ago that you'd love me no matter what. Thank you for keeping that true through the best... and the worst. Thank you for being my shining star when I was skulking around in the dark. Thank you for playing me lullabies when I couldn't sleep, and showing me all the most beautiful music of the world. Thank you for teaching my soul to listen to words, not just beats.

~Close my eyes for a while~
~Force from the world a patient smile~

You told me that you wanted me to be strong. Thank you for letting me be. Thank you for making me stand on my own when I'd become too dependent. Thank you for teaching me what it is to need personal strength, and thank you for helping me be strong at the times when I had no strength of my own.

~But I gave you all~

 You often apologized for going out to spend time with our friends when I was home alone. Thank you for your concern. Thank you for the friendships. Thank you for introducing me to such wonderful people who make my life a wonderful place to be. Thank you for knowing the best of the best. Thank you for taking the time out of your evening to text your grumpy girlfriend when you were having a good time.

~But you rip it from my hands~
~And you swear it's all gone~
~And you rip out all I have~
~Just to say that you've won~

You used to wish me sweetest dreams, and I often didn't do the same. Thank you for staying true night after night after night. Thank you for being the angel of my sleep. Thank you for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself.

~Well now you've won~

Thank you for everything. The good... and the bad.

I'm not going to pretend that this doesn't hurt, because it does. Every day is a struggle, and some days feel more fatal than others. Every day I try to remind myself what it is I need to be: independently strong. Every day, whether I admit it or not, gets a little bit easier to get through. I still have my moments of absolute blackness, where I curl up inside myself and just... cry, but they're becoming less frequent. Every day I get a little bit stronger, a little bit happier, a little bit more... and I hope to someday just be able to be happy on my own. And you may be feeling all sorts of awful about this whole situation as I am, and I'm sure my blathering doesn't help, but... thank you. If anything, thank you. You've taught me more about myself in our year and a half together than I learned in the whole eighteen years previous.

You gave me all, and I thank you.