repetition

I can't stop thinking about how much I want to not be here anymore.

And I keep trying to think of the fastest, tidiest, least-inconvenient way to kill myself.

Nothing is ever going to change.

Depression

You know, it's like drowning.
And someone just keeps asking, "Have you tried *not* drowning?" and sits contently on the boat, being annoyed that the splashes of me trying to save my own life keep hitting your dry towel.

When someone asks you to give a single, good reason they shouldn't kill themselves, your answer probably shouldn't be, "Well, you're a really good cook."

I'm RIGHT HERE

There are so many times where I've felt very out of place.
It's been constant sometimes and surprising others.
And once in a while I decide that I don't care. That the deliberate exclusion of me from whatever group doesn't hurt my feelings.
Except that it does.

and then the flood

I said it couldn't happen. And then the kitchen flooded.

But this is a perspective I'm trying out: I'm choosing to think of it as 2012 saying, "Hey there, R...; I know you had a FUCKING TERRIBLE 2011, so here's a house full of new flooring for you. You hated the colour of the old stuff anyway and were going to change it in a couple of years, so why don't I just give you a teeny tiny flood and we'll let insurance pay for it? After all, that's why you *have* insurance, right? So there you go. You're welcome."

I feel like I should make a list of my goals this year, just to have them down somewhere.

- I will try to be less judgemental, less hateful, more tolerant. Yes, these are essentially the same thing three times, but I think that with goals like this, it helps to be thorough and it never hurts to be repetitive.
- I will try to focus on the silver lining. Looking at the flood as a good thing instead of bad, I have made a conscious effort to enjoy what I can, because not enjoying anything is exhausting.
- I will keep my faith. That love is maybe a real thing. And that it's possible that maybe one day it will happen to me. And that I don't *need* it. And that some people are just really shitty people who weren't worth my time (obviously) anyway. I've never felt the *need* for love, I just accidentally stumble into it after really long periods of not, and I'm always so scared....
- I will try to hate my body less.
- I will try to install the baseboard myself. And it will look glorious.
- I will try to take at least one plane ride to at least one place I've never been before.
- I will try to recycle more often.
- I will try to keep my savings account at the level it's at right now for at least nine months.
- I will try to learn to forgive. Because maybe I'll never understand why, really, but it would be nice to not have a box of categorised injuries done to me to which I can refer if I'm feeling righteously indignant.
- I will try to write again. Because I FUCKING MISS IT, and having the power of lyrics is like having the sun shining from the palm of your hand and it's warm and close and personal.
- I will try to follow my instincts. Because they're usually pretty spot on and I talk myself out of following them sometimes and that's not fair to me. I need to be more fair to me.

Also, I will try to finish learning French, because language is beautiful and never useless and your brain grows when you know more shit.

turning over leaves and shit

It's going to be a better year because it must be.
It statistically can't be worse than the last.

I'm afraid of this cautious optimism, but I suppose I could call it desperate resignation.

We'll see.

the sinking

I remember this time I told myself not to fall in love with you
and you convinced me to think with my heart not my head.
You worked so hard for me to believe you, we planned plans and made promises and then you left me for your ex.

And I found out, on my own, on the fucking internet.

I talked myself into believing that the last month of spotty conversation and strange vibes was due entirely to your illness and need to be angry about your declining health. I talked myself into believing I was being too sensitive, reading too far into things. I was wrong to do that because I was right that you were lying.

This is not a mistake I will ever make again. This is the last time I trust anyone with my heart. And I'm not going to think with anything but my head ever again.

concrete oak

my heart is big and hard and heavy
and when it feels lighter
it hurts more when it sinks
and I have to repair the cracks and refortify
without knowing if this was the last storm
or if the ship will come home.

Dagny

I want to say that I'll be seeing you around

but I won't because you're gone now.

You're flesh and bone and vacant soul.

And I keep wishing I had said more when you still could.

And I wish I'd known you better because now you're reduced to legends.

I wish that you weren't the last thing my grandfather had from before he had us

because I'm sure this will take more of a toll than he is able to pay.

You looked too small, so frail in that bed.

Your poor feet you could no longer feel.

And all your family from around the world had come because that is what you meant to us.

That the world is small and you go to where you are needed, if only to bring the soup.

You mean tire swings to us, and skinned knees, and crokinole, and fights between siblings, and hidden chocolate stashes, and mysterious houses to us.

You meant fun and laughter to us.

And you meant a hug whenever we needed it whether we knew it or not.

You're another dead woman I feel I've made a promise to. A promise you'd never have held me to in the first place.

I should have kissed you more. I should have heard more stories.

2011 fucking sucks

My aunt is in the hospital. She will die this week.

She is my grandfather's last surviving sibling. Her death will usher him out with her.

My mother's first husband just died. He was also my father's best friend.

It's killing both of them.

My mother is sick. And keeps getting bad news. I worry that she's going to get cancer and die too.

And there's nothing I can do because I am working so much.

I'm working so much because I need the money.

I'm behind on everything.

I keep spreading myself thinner and thinner just to keep up appearances. I wonder when I'm going to break.

This has been the worst year ever and it's not even winter yet. It's going to get colder and darker and more lonely for me, and how selfish is it that I'm so concerned about how I feel about everything?

Fuck.

are these values pre-assigned?

I feel like I'm walking down the up-escalator and I can't turn around.

If I stop, I'm going to fall flat on my ass, but I can't ever seem to get to the actual bottom.

So all of that pushing away I did? Yeah, it worked.

Sometimes I think I just want someone to fight for me to be in their life.

I don't want to deliberately cause strife, but it's hard to be around people who seem to be ambivalent to you when all you do is care about them.

No one is fighting for me.

Everyone seems eager and satisfied to pass me by.

Even the people who said, "Fine, if you need a break, I'll leave you alone for a few days, but I'm going to call you."

...That was 5 months ago. And then those people forgot my birthday, which would be forgivable if it weren't for bloody facebook. And the daily activity I watched from the people who said they'd call but never ever did.

I know these types of tests are unfair, but I think it's also unfair that I have to conduct them at all. I try to make my friends feel that I value them and I get nothing in return.

My sister's boyfriend is half-living here, half-out of province and when he's in the room it's like I'm invisible to her, even if we were mid-conversation. And I think that's worse than being ignored completely in the first place.

Someone once explained it as "expendability" and that's exactly what it is.

But what does it mean then, when I readily admit that every person I meet, I actively prepare for the day they're no longer in my life because they are inevitably going to leave and the only thing that makes it easier is expecting it?