Pain Again (It Kind of Rhymes)

Published October 1, 2012 by pushcake

I never thought that making the right choice would ever be so painful. I’ve never told someone that it would be better if I weren’t friends with them and, twice a shock, I never thought that it would be a mutual agreement. I cried for a long time today and I don’t usually cry because it makes me feel embarrassed. Lately though crying when I’m sad is beginning to feel more and more natural. I’m not sad often, but when I am I cry now and I feel really good afterwards. I think it’s a good thing. Or rather, I hope it’s a good thing.

Everything will be ok. I was worried that maybe you wouldn’t be ok without me but I know you’ve never been one to give up, even when you’re going uphill two ways in the winter with no shoes on to get to school like old people always say. I love you still. Take good care.

Depression Possession

Published September 20, 2012 by pushcake

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone when I went into depression. It was sudden, like when all the lights go out during a really bad thunderstorm and for a moment you stand there wondering what the hell happened. Unlike that situation depression doesn’t have circuit breakers that need to be turned on, or however that works. I panicked in the dark, so afraid at not being able to see anything. I lashed out at things that brushed against my leg or touched my arm, not knowing what they were and only knowing how to react out of fear. I put my mom through hell. I’m so sorry mom.

And then I just stopped feeling afraid. I actually stopped feeling anything at all. I didn’t even know it was possible to not feel anything. It’s quiet. And frightening.

I scared so many people, pissed off most, with what seemed like an uncaring, uninterested attitude. But really, I just couldn’t feel anything and I hadn’t realized how much of what I did and said depended on how I felt until I stopped feeling. The lights are back on though and right now it’s the repercussions that are dealing the hardest blows. I left a lot of destruction in my wake. People HATE me because of how I was. They hate me. They look at me and then walk away. I want to die and cry at the same time when they do that. I was the happiest person in the world when it struck, I never even saw it coming. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.

And I’ll never go back there. I won’t allow myself to be lost in the dark again. I’ll kill me.

But besides people hating me everything’s okie doke now so no worries!

Work

Published August 6, 2012 by pushcake

Is it just me or am I suddenly the only one swamped with things to do while swatting people away with a stick who haven’t hung out with me for months and are all of a sudden remembering I exist? Of course, I don’t mind it, spending time with people, but they have a knack at colliding head on with my work schedule. It’s like when your ex boyfriend senses that you’ve moved on and texts right at the moment you’ve decided that you’re better than dwelling on the past. Suddenly you’ve got a job to do and you’re friends are like “oh stuff, she’s finally stopped wondering why I haven’t called her in months and has found something more important to obsess over. I’m going to badger her to hang out now and make her feel bad when she decides that her commitments need tending to first.” The worst part about it is that I do feel bad. But dangit you guys, hanging out with you is not going to earn me money and move me out of my mothers house. Only I can do that. I just wonder sometimes why they can’t be patient with me while I live my life like how I’m patient with them while they’re living theirs.

Art

Published June 19, 2012 by pushcake

I just want to make art because I like to make it. My mom wants me to sell the things I make which would be fine, I don’t care, people can have it, I can make more. What I DON’T want is people all of a sudden asking me to make them something. It will put me under pressure. I don’t make art for others I make it for me and if they like it that’s fine. But don’t ask me to make something for you because I’ll make it and you may not like it. It forces me to taylor to the person, to what I think the person might like, and it limits me. That’s why I do it for me. It has nothing to do with being selfish. The same with my music. I want to play on the piano because I like the way it sounds, not because I want to play Mozart or Chopin or whatever. I don’t want piano lessons. Why would I want to play something that someone else has already created? I don’t play music to get good I play it because notes sound nice in my ears. My mom said “fine, I won’t ask you to sell anything anymore,” in her fast, irritated voice that she does. That’s not what I wanted. I just wanted her to understand. But she doesn’t. Nobody does. But it’s alright. Nobody has to.

I Can’t Believe It

Published June 18, 2012 by pushcake

My friend since junior year of high school is no longer a friend of mine. She abandoned me because I said I would come and see her but kept cancelling because I have a job and commitments. She said that she would never say she was going to do something and then skip out on it, but compared to all of the things she’s done to me in the past I really think that my re scheduling with her pales in comparison. In high school she used to get mad at her mother for who knows what and take it out on us, her friends, because she couldn’t take it out on her mom. She’d scream at us and call us horrible things and then storm out of school and not talk to us for days, and then she’d come in one day and start talking to us like nothing happened. This happened at least every other week or so all the way up until senior year in which I went to college, didn’t hear from her for months, and was the happiest I’d ever been , though I missed her. I have never committed a wrong towards her. Not one. One day, sophomore year of college, she called me and told me I was a “fucking piece of shit”, please excuse me, the language,  because our boss gave me recognition for a job well done and didn’t mention her. She didn’t speak to me for a few more months and then appeared again and apologized. This time though, I don’t think she’s coming back.

I shed one tear over it while listening to the One a.m. Radio and then went to work. My friends young mother died a few months ago and I have lost a friend over something I didn’t think could even put a dent in a friendship. People dying, buildings exploding and with tons of people in them and car crashes are equally as mind blowing as babies laughing, lips touching and singing your favorite song. I can’t say “I can’t believe this happened” to any of those things because I have nothing to compare the event of life to. I believe everything because it’s happening. What else would happen if life wasn’t happening? I don’t know! So I take everything as it comes because it’s going to come. If I don’t know anything else, I know that.

Paranoia

Published June 11, 2012 by pushcake

After I came out of my depression, an ascent from complete darkness which I’m sure many can relate to, I developed intense paranoia where I wasn’t sure about who I was at all. Pink was my favorite color before the light went out, and when it came back on all I wanted to see was blue. It’s not a problem that my favorite color changed but for some reason I get extremely upset sometimes when I think about how it changed. I can’t at all remember the person I was before the whole depression thing so I feel like I’m rebuilding me, and it’s a terrible lost feeling. Where I was very sociable I now get incredibly nervous when I have to speak to someone because I’m not sure I’ll know what to say or if I’ll say the right thing. My music taste changed from alternative rock to more mellow music. I still like alternative, but I no longer seek it out and that also frustrates and unnerves me because there was no transition between the things I liked before and the things I like now. I don’t feel like another person, I just feel like a blank slate. Like I’ve been wiped clean of the way I used to think, feel, act and react. I get angry a lot, which is a reaction to constant fear, not because I’m angry but because I’m really scared.

But there are some good things. I love the sun and can lie in it for hours, I feel like my skin literally drinks sunlight. I have an acute interest in astronomy suddenly and could spend eternity learning about space. I love the color of growing things and often find myself snuggling against a bush or holding a flower or laid out in the grass. I have developed real empathy, which is supposed to be a good thing, but so far it’s only very painful to feel what others are feeling and I ache to remedy their strife. When I am alone, I feel alone, not peaceful. Alone is not a good way for me to be, but I’ll have to make it good since I’m forced into it sometimes. It makes me sick to my stomach when I lie now. I cherish laughing and hugs because I never realized how good they felt. When I hear music my body wants to move even though I can’t dance and I’ve never felt the need to dance before. I adore children and babies. I adore people but they’re mean and don’t easily receive affection and smiles like children. I feel like a new being again, like when I was a child. But don’t feel like a child. Just new and lost. I’m going on instinct now. Whatever makes want to dance, run and sing are the things I hold close to me now. It’s all I can do to keep from falling apart.

A Perfect Creature

Published June 6, 2012 by pushcake

Hello morning pages. I’m in statistics class right now hoping that I’m not pregnant so that I don’t have to get an abortion. I love the idea of carrying and giving birth to my lovers baby. He would be pristine, the most perfect of earthly creatures, and every fiber of my life would go to sustaining the two of them, lover and babe, because their existence would sustain me. A loving cycle. But he doesn’t want kids, I found out just yesterday. That if he found out I was pregnant he would flee the country. He says he can’t have them. And the idea of bringing a baby into the world frightens him even though he laughs it off. He said it was something about not wanting to pass on his tainted genes. He says there are too many bad people in his family and he doesn’t want to continue the line. Like Rhoda from the Bad Seed, apparently children can be born evil, no matter how good the upbringing and here I thought that all babies were born pure and clean. It’s scary and sad, but maybe true.

I guess I’m a little crestfallen, is all. I haven’t dwelt on the joys of having a baby but when you’re showing signs of pregnancy your mind starts to wander. Yes, I’ve had the nausea, the abdominal cramps, dizziness, lower back pains, all that. But that’s beside my point. I imagined, briefly, a beautiful baby, all mine. I would rock him to sleep every night, wake up every two hours to breastfeed him and hold him close to my chest. I’d take him to fields, open rolling hills and apple orchards and show him the joy of running. In the winter we would catch snowflakes on black paper so he’ll know that uniqueness is the norm, but is to be celebrated. I’d take him to the ocean to swim, see fish, and we could pretend that the sea is where forever starts. I would teach him colors and how to sing and about animals on the earth and about how monkeys, chameleons and seahorses tails’ are called ‘prehensile.’ I would teach him about space, where creation is. We would learn about all the plants of the earth and I would show him healing, caring, love and simple human kindness, by actions because sometimes they speak better than words. We would stand on the edge of the earth, spread our arms and pretend to fly. We would dream together and most importantly, be together. And when he leaves me and is grown, I will be so proud of him and miss him in a tangle of emotions like love, joy and happy sadness because feeling is life. But my lover doesn’t want a baby. Not now, not later.

Not ever.