Ok.
So, here I am trying to do my "homework." Therapy homework. Who would have ever thought that journaling would become homework? I don't know... I'm sitting way too close to the door. It's pretty fucking cold. Hold on. I don't like this pen. I want to see if I can switch.
Ok.
Found another. Now I'm using my "Sha-Barbara McDaniel" pen. Weird. I'm not feeling right right now. Even after just a little bit. I
have to remember this feeling. Even if I can't (
or don't want to) remember it, I have to know it as a fact-- to always embrace it as a maxim-- that in the end, I REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS STUFF. It's all about being afraid of the come-down off this whole crazy trip that I've been on for the past nine months-- a lifetime lived, it seems (
albeit a depraved one!). But I have to remind myself-- to keep telling myself-- I WILL survive this. Something WILL follow.
Today is "shorts and longs sleeves" weather. Of course, I'm wearing jeans, but it reminds me of that party so many years ago at Uncle N's house-- and I wore white denim shorts
(they were kind of long) and that teal green hooded long-sleeved t-shirt from
the Gap.
It's so fucking crowded in here tonight and I don't like it. I think it's for the Baseball. The Yankees are on. I guess no one gets the YES network at home. I had a good time with Bezoukhoff last night. It's too bad I can't find a guy who is caring and who I can talk to like that. Bezoukhoff and I are too much alike. He actually seemed to want to hear and share things that came from
me. To see
me. Would Narc have ever tolerated (
even for two minutes) looking at an old album, hearing my compositions or seeing my sketchbook? Dr. G. was right, what she said today-- that I
must feel degraded from the whole experience. And you know what? I do.
Just took a really long break from this. NDN came by and we talked for quite a while. We talked about all of my crazy stories from the fall. He told me that my life is quite "colorful" (
to say the least.) What's going to happen to me though if (
when!) it's not that way anymore?
Sometimes I think I don't even know what there is of me under all of this. How pathetic that seems, but how true! Maybe I've just hit on something big here-- that beneath the chaos,
I don't know who I am. I used to feel that way about my "artistic gloominess." That if I gave up my "depression," I wouldn't be me. Well, of course I'd be
me, but I couldn't (
can't) imagine who that would be. I think it's important to get external validation from people. (
BarMan just said that his dad died of lung cancer). I never expose the true me. So, how can it be reinforced to me at all? Maybe that's why I feel so isolated? Maybe that's why it's not at all strange to me that Narc had no interest in knowing me or seeing me-- hardly
anyone knows me and sees me. All of that stupid shit that I post up on my blog--
that's not me. I'm not
Hyde. I'm not Jekyll either. I'm a mermaid. I'm a Romanov princess. I'm a fiercely loyal lover who wants to be a family to my love. I'll fight like I lioness for those I love. It breaks my heart to hurt people's feelings. I get a thrill from danger. I get joy in life from kitsch. I love doing things to make those I love smile. I want a boy to do things for-- but one who will see me in return-- not just drain me. I love the
Song to the Moon for so many reasons. I'm not embarrassed of loving cheesy sweeping melodies. I pay such careful attention to color and setting. I see the world expressionistically. My feelings are hurt very easily. I am crazy stubborn. I can't accept failure. I can be emotionally manipulative but I always lost in the end anyway because I'd rather give in than be abandoned. I compromise myself and it hurts. It hurts so much that I can't ever let anynoe see it. It would shatter me I would
feel the degradation then. I wouldn't be able to tolerate it. I would be so embarrassed. I have a lot of pride and false bravado. I feel unacknowledged and under-appreciated.
Is this who I am?
I believe in love fiercely and passionately. I'm willing to try almost everything. I notice details. I write my life like a book-- once something happens, it's etched in memory. Even if I forgive, I certainly never forget. I
am my past. I miss Narc because I failed. I don't really believe dreams will come true. But I madly indulge in my dreams anyway. I don't reallbelieve in God, but I believe in ghosts, fate, ritual and pray by instinct. I'm obsessed with relics, traditions and magic. The only things that measures near to my emotions are the sea ad sky. I love to aestheticize life and then laugh at myself for being pretentious. Then I laugh at myself for being so self-aware and then so
aware of being self-aware and then again for my whole foolish po-mo quandary. I have more crushes than anyone I know and I thoroughly enjoy them. I'm very concerned that I will disappoint my parents and my ancestors. I
know something must be wrong with me that I haven't found someone to love me. I feel like I am disgusting to most people in this world. Why did B leave me? Where did I go wrong? If I can figure out why I wasn't good enough, maybe I can fix it and find someone to take me. Until then, I'll have to continue to accept what I have.
The whole world is a market-place, bottom line. And whatever assets I do have, they must have very low market value. How did I win Narc? Would he ever have talked to me to begin with if I hadn't been doing coke that night? I doubt it. In fact, it was probably James' idea. He's the one that is so into coke. I can just imagine their whole conversation. Why couldn't I hold him though? I've always gone on the premise that once someone bothered to
see me, I'd be loved. B left me anyway though. I wasn't pretty enough. I wouldn't impress his family or friends or make him feel good about himself. Lesson learned/ That even if you do manage to find someone, he'll toss you back. Non one wants you as "the one." You'll never have anyone to love unless you have a child... a fatherless child. That's just what we need... more fatherless children.
Doesn't Narc know I would have been willing to do
anything for him? I think he does. It just wasn't enough. I never will be, so why bother? Right? Just drown it out.
"Shut the fuck up!" he said.
Drown it all out.
**********************
Still here...Just hung up with Anxious. Pissed off. "Just let it go," she said. And implied I was competitive and fucked up compartmentalized. Fuck that.
