Everyone's Different

People will tell me, "Hey, you have't gone through shit in your life. Deal with it."

Does it occur to them that maybe - just maybe - the reason I don't know how to just 'deal with it' is because I never went through any shit in my life that would teach me to deal with it as effortlessly as they do?

Nobody should depend on anybody else, right? Isn't that how society works?
I thought society functioned and became 'civilized' because we could depend on others for the things we are incapable of ourselves.

Some All chemical reactions require a certain input of energy to take place. Most laymen never really consider this, because nature generally takes care of the pertinent variables. Non-chemists also never truly appreciate the ubiquity and importance of catalysts in said reactions. Life would not be possible, or at least not in any meaningful way, if there were nothing helping the reactions along that keep us autonomous meatbags mobile and conscious.

Since you probably drifted off to sleep during that small digression on chemistry, very few of you will truly appreciate the parallel drawn from the microscopic chemical world to the rather macroscopic world of daily life and psychology. All other things remaining equal, what would be the odds of a given reaction occurring if a catalyst was not present?

Where and what would you be right now, if nothing helped the process along?

Where and what am I? Where is my catalyst?

Let's Match

I'm so utterly lonely that I'm having trouble sleeping.

If I do find someone who can help me, I don't know that I'd sleep any better, on account of feeling something new.

Where do we go now?

So Much Could Have Been Done Different.

You are you.
We are you.
You are me.
There you are.


A thought, a flash, a spark, a wave of emotion.

Read no more, there we go. Time is blind, justice is crippled, love is drunk, fear is near.

A word of warning: she looks like you, and you look like them. Don't be fooled.

Let Me Put It This Way

If you're a friend of mine who reads this blog, let me know. (... the whole "if a tree falls in the forest" conundrum.) And in addition, if you're female, and you live nearby to where I am, please consider providing a shoulder for me to cry on. I have no one.

I Don't Know Me

Not counting the mainstream blogs that I read, I follow exactly two people right now. I don't know if they follow me. I don't know if they'd care. Well, I know one of them might. Kind of.

I don't know why I do music, do I? I was ... in it, and it was fun, I think.

I learned some things in a haphazard way. I can sing for the most part, and - interestingly? - my voice, quite possibly, is strong only because of my rocky relationship with my brother.
But I don't have the vocal control that I've seen people accomplish. I don't have a falsetto that I know of, possibly due to a bout of strep throat in my teens.

I've mentioned before how my mind seems to operate, and that hasn't changed. Yes, I was instructed in violin / viola; no I did not have formal instruction on mandolin or for my voice. But what worth are those instruments on their own? I'm not good enough that I could command others' respect - I'm only novel enough that I demand their envy. The instant I leave that bubble and go someplace with actually good musicians, the jig is up. I know this, because I was in that place where the good musicians are, for four years. And they all show up online, with so many others.

I'm not worth any of this. I need someone to tell me why I go on.

Speaking Of Me, Myself, and I

Story of my life: I didn't ask to be born. I didn't, I didn't ask. Who can I blame for this blunder, I wonder?

Nearest Distance

How can I keep away while also being so near?
Fences! Barriers, yes? Barriers solve everything, just ask the Chinese ... or Donald Trump.

I can't fence myself in, because that's all I've been doing my entire life.
I can't fence her in, because she's a person with a life that is worth far more than I could ever be.

How obnoxious is it for a person to ask how obnoxious they are?

Regress

I was on a boat for a bit, yesterday.

I remembered how someone once tried to fondle me on the public bus when I was young, in Dubai. I used to walk around, and take the bus, and taxis, alone, a lot, growing up. That it only happened once is ... lucky.

I recognize how lucky I was that I lived on one of the most crime-ridden streets near my college in the USA for 3 years ... and nothing happened to me even though I walked and cycled alone very regularly, even late at night.

And then I remembered that I was also not a woman.

I nearly broke down and wept on that boat.

What Are Ye Thinkin'

Will I survive?
I don't know. I don't think anyone has.

What does survival mean?
I don't know. I don't think anyone knows.

Where do we go from here?
Oh, fuck my brain.

Trust In Chance

I had a chance. Really I did. Didn't I? I don't know, I can't remember. I can't trust my memory any more.

I'm so glad I met Gretchen.
Why am I sad? Well, she's the fucking psychologist, maybe she can tell me, because I sure as fuck don't want to know.

I want these things to come together so bad.
I want to matter, to have a dream.
I want to sleep again.
I want to love, to trust.
I want to not hurt anymore.

I want justice for the world, but Santa's sleigh is kind of weighed down already with all those iPhone 9s and PS7s. No room for feminism in there, much less egalitarianism.

At least I got to touch boobs once. That was cool, I guess.

That Which Needs To Be Said

I am lonely.

Between The Extremes

I've never known either true happiness or true misery in my adult life.

With the exception of that morning some time in the summer of 2012, now that was truly something. I woke from a truly blissful dream and for that short pre-waking period I remember the feeling of utter contentment far beyond words.
And lo, how I crashed from that pedestal. I'd thought I knew how to feel sad; nothing I know of describes the feeling of such joy revealing itself as a fantasy.

In the space of minutes, I experienced what felt like the highest height and deepest depth of my emotional capability. But after such happiness, what else is left but sadness? That is the default state; no doubt dark is merely the absence of light, but there is no self-sustaining light in my life to speak of.

It comes up in all the movies: trust. One thing that underlies all of what we so arrogantly call 'civilization'. Religious blowhards like to call it 'faith' like calling it a different name gives them special power (which, unfortunately, it actually does, in some sense).
As of this point in my life, I have yet found no one to trust except Princess Sierra - and it hurts. I'm not in America where I could cry on a friend's shoulder. Fuck, for crying out loud, I don't even trust myself. How can I be a functional adult?
Trust in human relationships is not a barter system in practice. And therein lies its difficulty for me, having never had anyone to teach me the ropes.

'Tis The Season To Be Breezin'

In case you're unsure what the title is about: a Bacardi Breezer is roughly equivalent to a Smirnoff Ice; and I don't like alcohol, anyway. Am I missing out?

Happy New Year? I guess? Well, fuck that (which any number of people are likely literally doing right now).

I Had Such A Nice Title For This

It rhymes with 'fool' but it was such a good word to describe my current situation. Why didn't I write it down?!

After a half-asleep misdemeanour by me, and subsequent misunderstanding by my fellow human, I have no one to talk to except you, dear reader. Coming after a terribly therapeutic session of (what should have been) teenage angst, it feels hard to cope. But what are my problems in light of hers (and, by extension, theirs)? Nothing, and she knows it, and I know it, and, without sarcasm, it begs the question of why she tolerates me at all.
Perhaps tonight wasn't the best night to watch Dead Poets Society for the first time. If only all culture were homogeneously 1950s-era American-prep-school, then perhaps it would be more directly applicable to my life. Would I have done alright at a boarding school? It's hard to say.

My impostor syndrome is kicking in harder than usual recently, on account of meeting a goddess. I feel like perhaps I should be grateful I don't have any of those pesky "social skills" to get in the way of my interactions with her. I wrote a song on account of her, which is ... nice? I guess? Would I have written the same song were I in the USA right now?

The pain kicks in my chest with the usual regularity these days. I shouldn't have listened to her - she was only trying to get me out of my shell. I think I was in there for my own good.

Fuck human nature, that's what. A long-distance relationship? Out of the question. Help me out here, Ellie.

Changesicle

Been a while since my last post. I'd ask if you missed me, but that'd be presuming a lot.

I'd like to think that I'm evolving and adapting. But really, I'm too afraid of life. One thing that's changed is that I've been talking to more women lately. What I don't understand is, why are they all so young?! The obvious answer (to me) being that socially functional women closer to my age are typically in places where I am not - in clubs, college, careers, church, and/or relationships. This doesn't bode well for my prospects, in many ways.

In a discussion with my friend the Princess Sierra (and also with a new friend, Revati) I admitted that what I really need is someone to hold on to. Like, physically (and by extension, emotionally).
Quite literally, I need nothing more or less than a hug. It makes sense considering that when I find myself liking someone, I can't really hold my feelings in check comfortably, when it feels as though my heart wants to reach through my chest and engulf that person. It makes me afraid to meet more people, because I keep meeting people that I really like.
Not only that, but when someone attractive is a lot younger than me it is really really hard to rationalize my feelings (quite a joke, really - emotions and rationality go together like ammonia and bleach ...)
More than once I've been told that "age is just a number". "oh, really?" I wonder, "And in relation to that, exactly what number of your gender have been abused and harassed on a daily basis, all the days of their life?"

I can't see myself being worthy of anything when I'm guilty by association. I know exactly why I am justified liking the people that I like, but one vegan lion doesn't absolve the species of its carnivorous nature.