An Honest Talk

    My father and I rarely have a 100% honest conversation. Why is that? Well it stems from the fact that there is always this invisible barrier that keeps us from being totally and completely honest with ourselves. It tends to mostly happen with just family for some reason. It's like everyone has that one Aunt that always says whats on her mind, she asks the most uncomfortable questions and no one likes her because of this, but they also won't admit that they themselves are curious as to the answer of these questions. Well I have an Aunt like that but my father and I avoid her like the plague, been a long while since I've seen her actually.
    The point of this post, get to the point human! This christmas eve the two of us went to my dads close friends house where we both drank plenty of alcohol. At one point the friends family goes into the living room to exchange some presents so we stay in a different room where my dad asks a question that he admits has been on his mind for a while.

Why am I with Aster? 

    For him it's a complete mystery especially when he compares him to Zin who he has gotten to somewhat know over the past few months. Saying that when Zin comes over he brings food sometimes, he gave me a christmas present even though he really didn't have to and in general seems to care more.
    That is how my father described it, he feels that Aster doesn't look like he cares enough about me and even asked if I'm sure that he really does have feelings for me. It's sort of understandable that my father is asking this, because when he fell in love with my mother he fell, hard.
    He told me how he slept with a picture of her that he looked at every night. How he would drive an hour long drive everyday just to eat lunch with her. The way he described their relationship in the beginning well, it was very intense. They were obviously both fueled by their emotions which is understandable, but it's also the complete opposite of Aster's and my relationship.
    We were really slow, mostly because of me being scared, but still there was distance and we took our time. There wasn't a need to rush and just looking back over how we've grown together it's obvious, in my opinion at least, that we both care for each other.

Whenever we don't see each other for longer than a week our hugs last just a second longer and are just a tad tighter.

 If we're meeting with friends for drinks and we're not meeting up earlier than them, than we take a minute to hang back from the group to have a few moments to ourselves. 

We consult on which days we should take off from work that way we can meet up at least once a week. 

Once a year I give Aster a hand written story that usually stars him and he never once has complained about getting such a gift. The genuine smile he tends to have when I insert inside jokes or routines can't be faked. 

    I've gotten comments that say we have habits that usually don't form until after more than a few years of dating, but somehow we've been doing them since year one. My mother, despite never having met Aster, claims we act like an old married couple. 
    I don't really know how to respond to such comments. We just do as we do, we enjoy being with each other but that doesn't mean we always have to be doing something together. So sometimes he'll play with his friends online and I'll be sitting next to him reading, drawing, watching and well thats enough. We've been hanging out and I've gotten calls from my mother and he's just hung out in the room either trying to listen or just spacing out while looking at stuff online.
     There are so many things that we do, but the one thing that we haven't done that seems to be the deciding factor for many is the honeymoon phase. I've only seen it once with Larkspur and her hubby, but it's not something that Aster and I have ever done. We never texted every single day, or hung out all the time 24/7. There has never been a time where we just couldn't keep our lips from touching or keep from talking about the other. Neither of us have shouted to the world that we have a better half, at least I know I haven't and I don't think Aster has. If I recall correctly a part of his family didn't believe that I existed because I was mentioned a few times in passing by Asters mother and not him himself.
    I feel as if I'm walking in circles trying to explain something that's unexplainable. There's a side of Aster only I get to see and there is a side of me that only Aster gets to see. It's something I think we both treasure because it only belongs to the other. How else are you suppose to notice the softening of the other persons eyes, the way the other leans in to your body heat, that goodbye hugs last longer than hello hugs? There are so many tiny, little things that give everything away, you'll always find the other if they are in the nearest vicinity, your eyes just tend to naturally gravitate towards them, when you're in an uncomfortable situation but they're in the room with you, you feel just a bit better, it's just enough to get you through.
    At this point I'm just running in circles, trying to explain the unexplainable. I keep mentioning these tiny random details, that I'm not sure if anyone even understands. I know if my father read this than he would be just as confused if not more so than in the beginning. Because honestly how the fuck am I suppose to explain my relationship with Aster?

Oh wait here's the beauty of it, I don't. 

    This thing that Aster and I have between us that has been growing and ever so slowly blooming, well this, it's ours and ours alone. It helps that our families accept it, but it's annoying when they ask why. After all I've been writing for over and hour and still feel like I could write and write.
    You haven't been what we've been through. Super cliché and all that bullshit, but really how else am I suppose to summon it up? There's no way I'll summarize the few arguments we've had, nope way too fucking personal. Nor shall I go in depth on the few times we've been completely vulnerable to the other. It's something I wish to keep to myself, plus I think Aster might just get pissed.
    All I know is that despite the fact that I was super scared and emotionally broken, Aster stayed. While he seems to look like a very composed, logical and sometimes cold, I found that he emits a warmth that cocoons me and makes me feel safe. We both care for each other, that much I know.
    How much we care for one another, well only the other can answer that and why bother bringing such a thing into words when really everything is said through the tiniest of gestures that only the other can see.

Sometimes you just have to cry

    This is week has been, emotional. Well I say week, but it's like from sunday to wednesday, so these past four days. It's a week before the holidays, which just makes me sad on the inside, monday I had a huge test from java which was super stressful, tuesday I had a work 'holiday party' that I was sort of looking forward to then evacuated it within an hour.
    While today I was looking forward to seeing my old polish tutor, but she got sick, so we couldn't see each other. Wonder when I'll get to see her next? To top it all off I was an asshole to probably my only close friend in Poland and he was just trying to help. I'm sorry Zin. I just, uh I don't know how to explain, how do I explain anything.
    Maybe, because recently there's this little voice in my head saying I don't belong here. I shouldn't be here. GET OUT! Whenever I enter the uni building this little voice keeps popping into my head. Reminding me and torturing me. I almost prefer the one telling me that this is all pointless and I should just finish it. Although after what I went through today that's probably a bad idea, cause I just might go through with it.
    It hurts starting school, being annoyed that you have to go, but sort of excited cause you're advancing forward. You've made friends and acquaintances, you feel just a bit more confident, you almost start to think you can do this, but than you're slapped in the face. It starts to get harder and you start to struggle, you're juggling school, work and your mental health. It's all one big bundle of chaos, but you manage for a month, a month and a half, then you start to feel the weight.
    The voice slowly crops up. 'You aren't suited for this.' It says as you struggle to grasp a simple concept that everyone else seems to understand immediately. 'You're too stupid for this.' It shouts at you while you struggle forward trying to ignore it. Ignore the laughing, this isn't high school, this isn't my first year. I've gotten better, I'm not stupid, you don't need to kick me out, please.

I'm trying.

    Everyones moving so quickly I just can't keep up. It feels like my first two years of high school here all over again. It's a feeling I hate, because it's where my depression originated from. You could call it the soil to my sadness plant.
    Today I even got the urge, which is something that I havn't experienced in a long time. I almost picked up a knife, my brain went so far as to think about making tiny cuts all around my fingers so that it looked like I got hurt at work from glass. I didn't do it, but that fact that I felt the need to just proves today is a really fucking shitty day.
    It probably doesn't help that I haven't really written anything concrete on here for a long while, just mostly metaphorical stuff. Cause why talk about my emotions when I can just elude to them? Maybe one day I'll learn, but knowing me that won't happen for a long time, heck I might die before than.
    Still I cried today, it was comforting, but I still feel like I could cry more, like there are still tears hidden behind my eyes just waiting to explode. Its not easy to cry sometimes, even though I know I feel better after doing so.
    Maybe I'm still under stress from everything around me. And my happy go lucky mask has been cracking under the pressure over the past few days. Today it finally shattered, not at the right time though. I apologize once again Zin.
    I just didn't know how to respond to 'Are you okay? Because I've never seen such a sad and devastated look like that before.' It's weird how much someone else noticing and acknowledging, hurts and terrifies me. Which is laughable, because it's something I always wanted, but when it did happen I pushed them away and ran.
    Aster's moving in soon, less than a month in fact. I'm so excited and happy and just over joyed. The feels man, the god damn mother fucking feels. Too many emotions for me to describe honestly, but it's days like these where I wonder how he would act.
    What he would think of me when I'm like this, will he think less of me? Would he throw me away, realizing I'm just a shell of a human thats been carelessly glued back together? I rather not think such things, but than I also wonder if he has similar sad days? Or maybe he just has angry ones? Does he ever go through any unexplainable emotional days? They are questions that I'll never ask, but maybe answers will still be gained.
    Him moving in is one of the only things I'm looking forward to, because honestly next month is going to be a shitty month. Exams are right around the corner, shit is going to hit the fan and who knows if I'm going to be prepared. I'm planning to study a good chunk of holiday break, polish up my java skills, gotta work on math and maybe toss in a little C to balance everything out.
    It's all a plan, but I really do need to do it or else January is going to be an even bigger stress bomb. Is it wrong that I'm feeling done with everything and i just want to curl up in a ball and sleep till my body gives out? I'm thinking about so many things recently and it's just making my brain hurt.
    I keep thinking about exams at the end of this semester, the fricking classes that will happen if I pass this semester, I don't even want to know what will happen if I fail this semester, nope nuh ugh. I keep wanting to move out and live with Aster and Bax in our own home, I want to stop thinking about the amount of money on my bank account and how I need to save as much as possible for when Larkspur visits or how I know my workplace will fire me if they aren't making enough money.
    I'm also fighting the urge to buy a nintendo switch and getting the breath of the wild game as well, because I know I will immediately get sucked into playing it. An open world rpg, the best kind of escapism.
    So many worries and thoughts, that are completely knew and I just don't know how to process them all. I just want to curl up into Asters side, because that's the only time the voices shut up. I'm so tired, but it doesn't matter if I go to sleep, because I will still end up lying awake.
    Adulting is hard. Life is god damn bloody difficult. I want to be done with so many fucking things, but I can't. I have to finish them. I have to go through with them. This is just the beginning, gotta put up with all the crap. In the mean time I gotta find a new stress reliever or something or else I'm going to explode.

Shoot me, please for all that is holy, Jashin fucking damn it, shoot me.

I tried to move on

You're at the edge, finally. After taking so many flights of stairs, you're finally at the top. There was a working elevator, but this is the last time you'll get to use your legs, so you might as well put them to work. You sit at the edge or the building, calm and collected for once not worried about life, the inner turmoil felt on a daily basis is silent.

 It's a pleasant feeling one that you relish in for a moment. There's a fence blocking anyone from jumping from the building with little spikes at the top to keep idiots from doing anything stupid. You couldn't care less about the spikes though and hop onto the fence, ignoring the pain in your hands from touching a few of the spikes at the top. 

Still you manage to pass the fence and situate yourself just on the other side, feet neatly dangling off the side of the building. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through you, and the fear that's screaming to go back, but you refuse, because what awaits is so much more. You want this, so badly that you feel your soul sing. 

When was the last time you felt this way, since... 

You stop thinking immediately, those are bad thoughts, thoughts that will only ruin this moment. Instead you bring your attention to the sky and sigh in peace, can't see a single star cause of all the city lights, it's just smog on gray. 

So instead you close your eyes and picture the sky as it used to be when you were just a child. The milky way springs fourth, followed by the big dipper, your nose starts to pick up the scent of burning wood and a crackling of a fire. 

There's laughter and talk, the smell of cheap beer is in the air along with juicy sausages. You can feel a heat around you, but the source mostly comes from you're right. It's comforting and its making your stomach do strange things, you're tired and want to sleep, but right now you don't want to move from this very spot because that was the beginning of.... 

Tears spring fourth, because it's been so long since... 

How many years has it been? 

You tried so hard to continue moving forward, but no matter how much help you got, no matter how hard you tried everything just felt empty. Your chest once filled in a single moment became empty all over again and no matter how much medication you took, no matter how many times you cut, no matter how many time you ate only to bring it all back up, you still felt so very empty. 

You couldn't keep moving forward after that... after... 

I'm sorry, so very sorry. 

I just couldn't do it. 

No matter what I did this empty feeling inside just wouldn't go away. Tears spring fourth and you let them roll down you're face. Slowly you stand, you remove your jacket and hang it on the fence to make it easier for the police, then you remove your wallet and from a pocket you extract a tiny letter that you stick inside. The wallet is layed right behind you and you hope it's not lost, because that note should be read.

 An apology to those you're leaving behind.

 Finally you turn and stand at the edge, you don't look down, instead you close your eyes, your final thoughts go through your mind, a few last images of the happier times when you didn't feel so hollow inside, before finally all you feel is the wind in your hair and darkness consuming you. 

Coping Method

    December has always been a bad month for me. Well always is an overstatement, since december was fine up until a few years ago, four or five if you want to get specific. That was the first christmas where it was just my father and I. The rest of the family was leagues away, split.
    That very first christmas, we didn't really celebrate, instead we went on a small vacation. First marakesh, then paris and finally stopped in brussels where my dads friend invited us for a misfit christmas dinner. No one there was blood related, it was just a bunch of people who didn't have any family to spend the holidays with so they made one big dinner party. That didn't feel like christmas, instead I took it as a party where I got to meet quite a few interesting people.
    The following year was more christmas like, my grandmother, father and I went over to our first cousins house. This was new and something that we'd never done before, but it also just felt like a formal dinner occasion. Where everyone ignored my snobby aunt and enjoyed the delicious food. This felt more like thanksgiving for me, so that's how I treated it.
    The next year my brother came for the holidays so we took another trip, this time with my dads friend and his son. We went to the mountains, visited the local area and passed the time by enjoying ourselves. That year christmas passed without much notice.
    It was after this year that I started to forget the date of christmas eve and start to loath christmas songs more than I did before. Now last year was where my emotions for this holiday seemed to have cemented. I went back to the states. It was only two weeks, but it was an emotional roller coaster. Everyone tried to act like we used to, 7 or 8 years ago, before the move. Let us all be merry and pretend everything is right with the world, but hidden underneath were just bottled up negative emotions that seemed to burst every evening.
    This was the only time I eagerly took up alcohol. It was christmas day and I spent most of it with a small buzz, not enough to make me feel it the next day or lose any control of myself, but enough to give me some 'liquid support.' I was relieved when I didn't have to spend new years with my relatives and even more so when I left not three days later. It's an experience I never really want to  repeat.
    Now it's December again, the time everyone seems to be fucking merry and I just want to curl into a ball and hide away till the new year. I hate when my brain brings up old memories of 'happier' days or when a christmas carol gets stuck in my head. I want to bash my brain against the wall till it stops, the song or my heart. Despite all of this I still have to function, still have to move forward and just try not to focus on anything from the past.
    It helps that my father has pretty much completely dropped any christmas 'traditions' that we once did and doesn't force me into anything. The only thing my father knows is that I don't like the holidays anymore, so he doesn't expect me to take part in them. The only thing I'm obligated to do is eat dinner with my grandmother and her family, our family. The rest of the time I just focus on trying to get through the month and instead of resorting to past measure I have discover a different method that is less ugh, scaring.
    I have a binder that almost completely flattens me, with the correct shirt it's hard to tell if I have anything there at all. This is key to my method, because this is what helps me become Mati. Who's Matis? Well they are a genderless individual, who doesn't mind if you refer to them as a male or female. They have no family and are just an average human being. Mati doesn't have problems with their emotions, doesn't have a dark history, doesn't really talk much, doesn't have anyone in their live.
    Mati is Mati and they just exist. It seems very silly, but this helps me out on tough days. If Nast can't get out of bed, than let Mati face the world instead. It's easier that way, better than letting the darkness creep back in.

Complaing about a fancy bathroom

    Recently my house has been going through some renovations. When I say recently I mean it's been going on for almost two months now and I am sooooooo done with all of it. Unfortunately it's most likely going to last for another month, the plus side is my floor is more or less going to be done within a weeks time, then all that will be left is the living room and main entrance.
    In general the renovations should have been more or less finished by now, but my father kept adding things for the worker to do, thus a two month job turned into a three month job. That is not what I'm going to complain about though! Nope, what I'm going to talk about is in the title, well no shit.
    Now my fathers girlfriend has been really involved in all of the remodeling, she's pretty much the head designer while my father tends to pay for everything while also occasionally giving his own opinion. One of the things being done was my bathroom, which when asked how I want it done my response was 'gray tiles, no wood, floor and wall tiles, cabinets don't touch the ground.' A few specific request, but mostly pretty generic. The only thing I did was choose my wall tiles and I let the adults do everything else because I couldn't care less, I'm planning on ditching this place within a year so I saw no reason to add any input.
    So Anna (fathers gf) has pretty much styled the bathroom and I will admit it's very nice and fancy looking, but thats the thing.. It's too nice looking. I feel uncomfortable and out of place when I go there now and even though it's technically done I still go downstairs to use my grandmothers wash closet because it doesn't look like it belongs in a five star hotel. I sound like such a spoiled bitch, because honestly if you saw the place your eyes would pop, but it feels so foreign to me that ahahahahahahahahah. Let's just say it's going to take time getting used to.
    The fact that Anna also bought all the extra little bathroom things made me feel sort of sad, cause now it doesn't feel like my bathroom anymore. I'm just a guest in this house. My only place is my room. Everything else is my fathers and his to do with as he please's. I feel a rant coming on, but I think I'll just completely skip over that because it deserves it's own dedicated post.
    Instead I'll focus on the fact that someone I know has read some of my blog. Which is super weird and terrifying, but also somewhat nice because even after reading almost two years of all this random bullshit he still got coffee with me and bought me lunch! During our meet up he brought up two things about me that I never really noticed.
    The first is that I apparently have very abrupt goodbyes, which I never really thought about or even noticed, but he brought it to my attention the last time we met up. I'm not sure how this works. To my understanding when people are about to go they say 'well this was fun and shit, but I gotta run' hand wave, girly/macho hug, hand shake and bye. Is that not how it works? Is it suppose to like drag out or something? Is there a proper goodbye etiquette that I am completely unaware of?
    Anything is possible, but I just find it amusing. Maybe my goodbyes are quick, because I don't like them. I've been through so many painful goodbyes that I probably treat all of them like a band aid- Quick and 'painless.'
    The second thing he brought to my attention that I already sort of knew about was the fact that I am a total emotional sadist on here. Which I knew, sometimes when I'm feeling really sad I let the emotion consume me and allow it to create whatever it desires to help me get through the feeling.
     I've found that to be my best method of sorting through my emotions, specially when I don't understand jack, but I will admit that they can be excessively cruel sometimes. I'm sorry for killing you Aster, I won't do it again..... maybe...
    Anyway I never thought that my post could pull at someone else's heart strings, which I found out from my friend that so far two of them have (I'm secretly hoping at least one will make him question his sanity). One is snow globes and the other was your ideal world. One is about seeing a broken me, a dead me, the other was about moments in my life and what if they hadn't happened?
    There was a line hinting at how Aster and I first got together, how he asked me to be his human and thats how it all started. There though he never got the chance and it didn't come to pass, which surprisingly caused a reaction in my friend. His manly emotions were stomped out by his romantic side and he made me question why I wrote something so painful. It's something I can't answer because I tend to just write, still I apologize.
    There's one more thing that he asked me, before he started to read my blog.

Was Aster worth the depression?

    Honestly, that's such a loaded question. It's assuming that if I didn't move and I somehow convinced my parents to stay in america that I wouldn't have gone through such a serious depression. That I wouldn't have felt the things I felt, done the things I did, came out broken and chipped but could somehow still smile.
    I answered what I felt to be an honest answer which was yes. If I woke up in my 13 year old body with my memories intact I would have taken the same steps I did before, because after 5 years of hell a stranger who was looking for a potential girlfriend decided to try to get to know me. And after trying to push him away with depressing talks, allusions to death and suicide, he still stayed for some fucking reason and is still here.
    The fact that I would go through that shit again for him, just goes to show I'm absolutely smitten with him. Damn weasel takes after his name sake cause he's burrowed his way into my heart and made himself comfortable there. The damn prat.
    Ugh, just goes to show that even I can act like a fricken love sick teenager, gross. Allow me to go hide in a bush and avoid every human until I feel androgynous again.

Hypocrite

For once I'm not lying in a pool of my own blood. Instead, this time, well it's... it's HIS. 

    My arms are trembling as they struggle to hold his body, while my mind is trying to comprehend what lies before it's eyes.

This...it can't be!

Still there he lies still warm, eyes half shut, glossy and fogged over. I hold back a sob while I push back his long blond hair, the parts that aren't drenched in blood are soft, recently washed. If it weren't for all the red he'd look like an angel with his hair fallen around him, almost like a halo.
    I can't bring myself to look at his eyes, but I bring my hand over his eyelids in order to close them. The world will never know if he died with blue or green eyes. It's hard to hold back the tears at this point and I allow myself to finally cry.
    It's morbid, but I hold his slowly cooling body close and silently let tears fall from my eyes. This, this isn't fair. I was suppose to win this bet, not him. I was suppose to be the one to go first! He's...he..how....
    My mind shuts down and at one point I feel like someone's trying to grab him from my arms, but that's the one thing I can't allow, so I struggle to keep one of my final lifelines near me.

He was all I had! You can't..Please.

    I shut my eyes and all I feel is cold. I'm shivering and I find myself curling in on myself. So... this is what it feels like? I stare at the blank grave knowing full well there's no one bellow. I stare at my hands and there's no blood on them. No empty shell that once housed an amazing human soul.
    The relief that fills me is over whelming and I find myself once again bawling my eyes out. What a cruel joke, of all the people you choose, you choose the one that I'm most familiar with physically. You didn't even have to imagine anything, because I filled in all the details.

I hate myself. 

    Looking down at my hands once more I see the usual blood stream, my reminder. The grave is surprisingly still there, right on the edge of no return. Turning around I see my tree, and for once I'm not glad to see it, because I know it did this
    I want to scream and shout at it, but I know it's pointless, because what I just went through, however short lived it was, that is what he would go through. For a moment my eyes play that scene again and I can feel my heart jerk in pain. No. I finally say, swiping that scene to the side. I refuse to see that again. I never want to see that. He's only allowed to go when he's all gray and old, preferably in his sleep.

I'm such a hypocrite. 

    When I close my eyes and open them once again I find myself in bed with only half the covers on me. Looking over I can see he's taken them all and I smile taking note that both my hands and feet are frozen solid. Without a moments hesitation I wrap myself around him, making sure as much of my cold limbs touch him as possible. I hear a yelp from him and can't help but giggle slightly. That's much better.

Przepraszam, ale i też dziękuje. 

To think

It's thrilling yet terrifying to think such a thing could be possible.

It excites me, yet at the same time there is always a tiny bit of doubt buried deep within. 

What if it doesn't work?

What if we end up hating each other?

What if you can't handle it?

What if you start to forget?

All these thoughts and question hidden deep within my mind. They fester and grow slowly, carefully trying to fill me with fear and doubt. Trying to silence me, keep me from moving forward. 

Yet this tiny part of me is pushed aside, because the excitement is so much greater.

I'll get to see him everyday!
Our relationship will grow even more!

I'll get to know him even more!

Comfort and sanity will be at arms length! 

These thoughts bubble up the most. 

The happiness, the excitement, the nerves, the fear, the doubt. They all exist and they all have their own thoughts about this, but in the end I still want to try. I want to see if this can move forward, if this can continue to evolve and grow becoming something even more amazing.

This could be the catalyst.

It could also be the beginning of the next great adventure.

Visit to the past

My mental state balances on the ledge of being another statistic and just barely hanging on. 

    I'm cuddled up in my bed drifting between sleep and awake, thinking about the week ahead. Aster was moving in and I couldn't be more excited and terrified at the same time. Sleep eventually won though and my restless thoughts were silenced for a time.
    Suddenly though I feel myself violently waking, jolting upright as if I was slouched over something. A loud noise is made with my movement, as if a chair was being scraped across the floor and I can hear whispers all around me suddenly stop and turn into laughter. What? I look around confused only to see I'm inside a classroom, not just any classroom though, my old homeroom with my old, loud classmates.
    They're quieted by the teachers voice "Glad to see you've awoken sleepyhead. I know homeroom is boring, but could you refrain from sleeping while I try to organize a class trip that isn't the movies?" I stutter out an apology before slouching and covering my face. This, this is a dream right? I look around noticing all of my classmates are accounted for. There's one I hone in on immediately though, front row right next to the door, short blond hair. Wait, short?
    That means it's only the second year, winter time judging from the boots I'm wearing and the weather outside. I feel tears swell up in my eyes, we haven't started talking yet, we don't start to talk until the end of second year, not for another couple of months. I sigh, but pretend to listen to the teachers plan to go somewhere. It never happens. But this is just a dream, so might as well continue forward until I finally wake up from this nightmare. Aster was the only good thing about high school, everything else was a god damn fucking pain in the ass.

It's been three days.

    Why the fuck am I still in this dream? Who am I kidding, I'm starting to think I traveled back in time and it's slowly driving me insane. I have long hair during this time that I'm just itching to cut, all my tattoos are non-existent and it's making me feel naked, my glove is there, but the scars are so prominent that they make me want to puke. Everything is so messed up and wrong, that I can't hold it together anymore.
    It doesn't help that my bodies hormones are at their worst levels during this time and it's making it even more difficult to function. The worst part though, is seeing Aster everyday and not even talking to him, because we don't know each other yet, he isn't MY Aster, MY human, My lifeline.
    I sit down at my usual spot waiting for math to start so I can go to sleep. Unfortunately, I'm not left alone as the guy I sit next to and blocked as soon as I graduated starts to complain about something trivial. Honestly, this shit grates on my nerves and I've had it up to here with this annoying ass dream. So for once I don't bite my tongue and bare it, I let that sucker go full force.
    'You know Pete that's really interesting and all and if I cared I'd totally agree with you, but I couldn't give a bigger shit. So go suck a dick, cause at least then your mouth will be useful for something.' With that I grab my bag and leave the room, saluting my teacher goodbye as she walks down the hall. I ignore her shouts and stomp right out of the school, pissed beyond belief and terrified. 
    What if this is not a dream? It's been three days, three long days. It's getting harder and harder not to go climb a nice tall building to throw myself off it, because I can't live through all this bullshit all over again. These next few years were awful and I just wanna be done.
    My feet end up taking me to a park near the school and despite the cold I curl up on a bench and just go numb. What am I suppose to do if this is real? I can't go through that all over again. What if this time I don't peak Asters interest and we don't end up together? I can't, I don't know what I'll do if he's gone. Larkspur's a great supportive lifeline, but Aster is tangible and reachable at a moments notice. I'm not sure I can function without him.
    I mope on the bench ignoring the  world around me, trying to understand why I'm here, when I start to hear someone come up to me. They say my name and I look up and feel dumb-strucked. Aster? He shouldn't know about this park yet, nor would he have any reason to follow me of all people, yet there he is bundled up in his coat and staring straight at me. He seems very amused yet slightly relieved as well. We stare for a moment before he sits right next to me on the bench and whispers in my ear 'Wake up you lazy piece of shit!'
    I'm pushed from my bed and after a moment of disorientation I find myself on the floor with Aster looking at me from my bed. 'Sleep well?' He cockily asks all the while smirking. I stand pretending to get angry at him for interrupting my sleep before pouncing on him.

Thank god, that was just an awful dream.

October writing

    This is just a short introduction as to what I'm going to be doing this month. I've always had trouble with writing consistently, although last year I was a lot better about it than this year, but I decided to make October write everyday month!
    I'm pretty much stealing the idea from NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), except I'm changing the concept to suite my needs better. Firstly I have to post something on my blog every single day in October, no skipping or double posting. Second It's gotta be about 500 words or more unless it's a poem type thingy. I don't know how to control word counts for those they tend to just come to life of their own free will.
    So yup, I'm gonna try doing this. Not sure how it will work out, but two years ago my friend took part in NaNoWriMo and I want  to do that one day too, but with school and work I don't think I'd be able to keep up with it, so I'm doing something different.
    Also I'm cheating and counting this as my first post for October blog month. Should probably come up with a name or something eventually.

Whelp, till tomorrow I guess.

I long for a freedom that I'll never achieve

    I got a job recently. It was my first real job. When I say real I mean people don't come asking for you to help and than they pay you. I mean I had to send an email with my CV and than hope they'd call. All of august I sent out tons of CV's, mostly to clothing stores, there was one pet store and I even tried the library, but they weren't hiring.
    When I wasn't job searching I was clearing my room of unnecessary things. Throwing things away, clearing out my closet of clothes I hadn't warn in years, giving away jewelry that I'd somehow acquired over the years but never worn. It was difficult at some points, because it sort of felt like I was losing pieces of myself slowly but surely.
    The worst part was when I was going through my books. That probably killed me the most. Which books am I sure I'm never going to touch again? The ones that I knew I'd never read were donated to the library. At least they aren't lost forever and will be put to good use. The only thing I didn't touch was my manga collection, I don't think I'd ever really be able to part with that.
    The whole time I was doing this I made sure my father was completely unaware. Cleaning, organizing and throwing things out/ donating them were done during his work hours, so he'd never notice. I'm pretty sure he never realized my room looked more spars, by now it's turned into the norm. Still all of august I searched for work, anything really because not only did I need something to pass the time, but I want to move out.
    It's slowly getting harder and harder for me to live with this man that pays all the bills and gives me free money. At first glance I pretty much live the spoiled 'rich' kid life or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but when you look deeper it's not like that.
    Warning this is just my complaining about the father skip ahead if you don't want to read this shit. First he almost never cleans up after himself. He will always leave the kitchen a mess after he's done using it, he won't put dirty plates into the dish washer, he rarely cleans pots and pans after using them for dinner, he leaves bread crumbs and sticky spots all over the counter top. When he makes breakfast for himself and his girlfriend sometimes he just leaves the mess, because the magical fairy will come and clean it up.
    Honestly the only times he cleans up after cooking in the kitchen is when I tell him I'm not cleaning this up. That's probably my biggest pet peeve; having a clean kitchen. I couldn't give a bigger shit if my rooms messy or if the bathroom hasn't been properly cleaned in a month, nope don't give a single shit, but the kitchen well that drives me insane.
    It's not like it's an unreasonable thing, the kitchen is where you cook food and where you eat and store it too, so it should be kept clean. That way your food doesn't have random dirty debris in it. Other little things include never emptying the dish washer when it's clean nor turning it on when it's full. Listening to the television obnoxiously loud. And getting upset over silly little things. There's probably more, but nothings coming to mind, so I'm gonna move on.

Rant over.

    Those are just some of the reason as to why I want to move out, even though I know I'd lose so many things from leaving, but I crave the faux freedom more than this dead environment. I want to live with Aster and Bax, even if that meant I'd have to take allergy pills every day, even if I'd have to magically balance work and uni just to pay the bills and get that stupid degree this world requires of me.
    I'd be okay with that, because I would no longer be stuck in this empty shell of a house. The only place I feel comfortable is my room, because it's one of the newer parts of the house and the only memories in there are of my brother and I, but mostly me. Maybe I wouldn't feel this inner storm if I could live with Aster, my room is big enough that it could fit the both of us easily along with Bax, but my father would never fucking agree to such a thing. We had a conversation about a year back where he told me that he would never allow Aster to live with me, because he wouldn't feel comfortable about it. At the time I understood and saw no problem with it, now though?
    Now I feel such a strong pull towards Aster that it kills me sometimes. That small trip where I got to wake up next to him every single day, was the most wonderful thing on the planet. So when I had to go home after that and sleep alone, it just about killed me. One night I actually cried, because the feeling of cold emptiness inside me physically hurt.
    I just hated it and as stupid as this sounds ever since than I've been longing for that once again. That time where I was only really responsible for myself, Aster and Bax. I didn't have to think about my behavior and what I needed to do in order for my father to leave me alone or what I shouldn't do. I got a taste of such a beautiful thing, a what if scenario and now I long for it.
    Thus I searched for and managed to somehow acquire a job that I even enjoy to a certain degree, while also trying to rid my room of unnecessary things. At the moment though it really is just a silly dream. For I haven't really spoken to it about Aster and I know I wouldn't be able to just move out without my father noticing.
    Both are difficult conversations for me, that I can't seem to bring up. How do I just randomly ask Aster if he would seriously consider moving in with me sometime before the end of the year or the beginning of the next?

 Easy you just say it. 

    I wish I could just out right say that, but as I very well know I'm a fucking coward. I almost wish I could just send him this post, because it'd be a million times easier, but that'd be cheating wouldn't it? As for my father, if I ever get past the convo with Aster and am seriously unable to move out without him noticing, well than I guess I'll just have to sit him down and tell him I'm blowing this joint.

Life is just...

Life is just a bunch of distractions.

They're all rolled into one steady path that keeps you from ever realizing such a silly thing.

First it's school.

You've got at least 12 years of distractions from that, not even including all the things that could come from the environment school supplies for you. Friends, enemies, crushes, hormones, homework, hobbies, so many things can just POP up and distract you from one major detail. 

After school it's either college or a job, some half-assed goal that will keep you moving forward, either one provides enough of a distraction that you don't think about much of anything else. Instead you're focusing on your future, maybe looking for that other half or enjoying the single life. 

Either way it's enough and you keep moving forward looking towards having a family, living the life of luxury, adventure, passionate love whatever you want to do.

All the while you're unaware that everything you're doing is just another task to keep you going. Another tiny goal that will keep you from thinking too much, because why would you want to think about that. 

It's such a trivial thing, but at the same time once you realize it, well it shakes you to your core. 

You live to continue doing your self assigned tasks, whether that's provide for someone, continue to have the funds to do what you love or maybe you're just going along with social norms, it doesn't really matter. 

For it all comes to an end eventually. 

This list of things you want to do or 'have' to do all come to a stop when your light flickers out. Whether it's with grace or not eventually everyone ends up in that situation. Some really never realize what they did was just a bunch of self-appointed tasks meant to give them more meaning in their lives, they're lucky bastards.

Some come to that conclusion way to early in their lives and when they do, they can't help but look at everything around them and think- pointless.

 Why should I find myself something to do? 

What's the point in doing this? 

How come it's so difficult to ignore this?

It's so difficult to reach out when the only thing ringing in your ears is;

'Life, well life is just a bunch of distractions and then,

well then you die.'

You're hurting me

It hurts.

It feels like I'm burning from the inside out.

It feels like someone ripped a hole in my chest and is now trying to rip me in half.

It's painful.

I try to ignore it, try to remember the years past where I dealt with a similar pain, but this one is so much worse. 

Before everything was numb. 

The world was cold and nothing mattered.

Now I feel like somethings trying to suck out my soul and tear me in two.

It feels like I'm being roasted over a fire, dipped in lava boiled alive.

My mind is constantly in chaos, thinking, wondering.

Trying to rationalize only keeps them at bay for a little while, before they come roaring back to life, stronger than before. 

I hate it.

This feeling in my gut, my head and my soul. 

It hurts so much and it's all because of YOU. 

You're probably unaware of what I'm feeling. 

As much as I wish to, I can't blame you. 

It's my fault.
 It's always my fault.

I just want to see you, speak with you for a little while. 

Yet at the same time I wish to run from you as far away as possible. 

You're what's causing this pain. 

If I leave it will go back to the numb feeling, something I know how to deal with. 

I understand why I'm being torn in two. 

One of me wants to run to you while the other wants to run away. 

You have no clue how much power you hold over me at this moment and it's absolutely terrifying. 

I should speak with you. 

Talk like normal humans do, but I know I won't. 

I'm a coward. 

I'm the bad guy.

 I'm a worthless piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be here. 

That doesn't deserve YOU.

People ask how do you know that you're in love?

It's when all those sappy love songs start to make sense.

Took me two fucking goddamn years, but they finally make sense to me.

Pointless

    I hate summer.
    Not only because the weather is constantly changing between rain or heat waves, but mostly because of the endless nothingness I feel during this time. For the past few years it's been like this, I look forward to getting a break from school, yet all too quickly I'm reminded of the emotional roller coaster that awaits me.
    If I'm flying to my brothers home I sort of cease to exist for a little while. Its all fake smiles, laughter, psychologist and good daughter acting. After all my mother only gets to see me so often, so shouldn't I be on my best behavior for her? Whenever I stay there around the end of my trip I can start to feel myself slipping and hating myself even more. Just be the daughter she thinks you are, there is no reason to cause any sort of confusion or stress for her.
    When my brother comes it's easier, but I constantly have to be on my toes. What do I have to do in order for my father to be satisfied? How do I respond to this situation so that everything doesn't go to shit? Usually it goes well, specially since I can escape to Aster's once a week, but this time, this time I fucked up.
    Worst part is, I can't really bring myself to care. I'm fine with my father thinking less of me and I think it'd be best if my brother grew more distant from me. Since during his stay here I learned one very vital thing from him, neither of us are able to understand one another anymore. He views me as a snobby spoiled rich kid, while I just think of him as the kid who picked the shorter straw. He's my kid brother and I care for him deeply, but it'd be best if we distanced ourselves.
    That sounds so stupid specially since we live on different continents, you really can't get more distanced than that. I know my father wants Azael to come for the winter holidays, maybe I can convince mother to let me fly over to her place. It'd be the first time the two of us would switch places like that and I would definitely piss off my old man, but I think it'd be a good idea. I'm probably just being selfish though and just wish to hide away from my father and brother when they're together.
    Still I'm getting a bit off track. To quickly sum up the above clusterfuck of information, a part of why I don't like summer is because I have to deal with the emotional roller coaster my family decides to put me on. The other reason is the long strings of absolute nothingness.
    I don't really have friends, so during the summer I need to find things to keep myself busy, such as learning a new skill, video games, exercising and so on. These things can only keep me busy for so long though, this year I decided to try to find a job, something that I could maybe do during the school year as well. So far I haven't gotten any calls or emails, but I've really only been searching for about two weeks. It would be my first official job, so I wasn't really expecting it to be easy to find one, but the fact that no one's called is disheartening to say the least.
    Coupled with the fact that evening always brings about a mental criss within me, doesn't really help matters. I'm going to be very honest and straightforwards for once in this entire goddamn blog, but this past month has been really hard on me emotionally and I have contemplated on more than one occasion about finding a nice tall building and just jumping off.
     I can't find a sense in my existence, no matter how hard I try. I keep trying to find something that will put meaning in my life, but everything always leads back to nothing! It's all just this empty goddamn tunnel with no fucking light anywhere in sight. I've pretty much just decided to curl up and hope something runs me over while I'm in there. The fact that I'm going through my room and getting rid of a lot of my old things probably isn't helping too much.
    I had a decent amount of old shounen jump manga about two an a half years worth (2008-2010), but I knew I couldn't keep them all. I ended up going through them and keeping about seven while putting the rest on a book crossing shelf in the library. A little bit of me died when I abandoned them on the self. I gave a lot of things away to the library this month. Tons of old books I knew I'd never read or had read many times before, gone.
    I got rid of a lot of things, clothes, jewelry, electronics, books, random shit, everything was looked through and purged. A lot was donated or given away, but in a way it still hurt. I got rid of a lot of things from before the move and seeing how empty my room has gotten just makes me feel like it'd be even easier to just say goodbye right now. A part of me is whispering to just grab a backpack and go while the other is saying to just jump.
    After all the numbness I so hated in high school keeps emerging after it's long hiatus, stronger than it ever was before. The thing is before I was drawn to my knife, now the only reason my knife interests me is to shove it straight through my veins.
    I wish I was strong enough to talk to someone about this, but I can't. I'm a goddamn bloody coward who dreams about getting hit by cars, forever falling asleep in a hole and just leaving behind this numb feeling thats sunken into my bones.

Aimless

    I'll do it tomorrow I think before snuggling into my covers and falling asleep.
Sleep doesn't last long as I soon find myself in a feeling of free fall. I try to open my eyes, to see if I can't grab hold of anything, but I can't open them. I have enough time to put my hands over my face and register that my eyes have been sown shut before I'm swallowed whole.
    Where am I? I struggle in the sluggish liquid trying to swim up, hoping I'm swimming up, but ultimately unsure. I can't hold my breath any longer. My nose tries to inhale much needed air, instead I feel the sludge rush inside me, fill me, consume me. My body coughs out of reflex and I end up inhaling more of the terrible sludge.
     It tastes like burning motor oil and I find myself slowly losing consciousness. Suddenly I feel something tugging at me, a large hand closes tightly around my neck and easily pulls me from the liquid. It then drops me right onto solid ground before I feel it's presence sink into the background.
    I puke as soon as I breath in a couple of mouthfuls of clean air and I can feel the sludge slowly draining from my system. It's exhausting and twice as gross feeling the heavy sludge type substance slowly crawl up my neck, protesting each inch, tasting even worse than the first time. By the time I've expelled most of the liquid from my stomach, I feel dizzy and nauseous. My body is shaking, my throat feels as if its on fire and I don't want to lift my head from the cool floor I'm slumped on.
    After what feels like hours I attempt to open my eyes once more, yet they are still sown shut. So I try to stand on shaky legs and stretch my arms before me, looking for some kind of wall I could follow, some kind of clue as to where I could be. It isn't long before I've managed to discover a wall, a very grimy and sticky wall, but a wall none the less.
     I walk forward with one hand on the wall and the other in front so I don't walk into anything, although I quickly learn this hand is useless, for everything is behind me, right over my shoulder. They whisper and giggle, I can't see them, but I can feel their piercing gazes. Don't judge me, please don't judge me! I can't take this pressure so I start to run, eventually my hand loses the wall, yet somehow I'm still able to run without falling over.
    This doesn't last for long because something tangles my legs and I feel myself starting to fall once again. I fall straight into IT. Even without my vision I know what it is, what it feels like and I dearly wish to be back in the sludge. It starts to tighten around me, slowly taking it's time, it knows I am unable to escape, for I am nothing without my vision.
    I stop struggling, succumbing to my fate, but for some reason this angers the serpent and it tightens itself even more. I feel it's tongue flick out and smell the air around me. It seems even more displeased than usual. I then hear it freeing it's fangs, before it lunges for me.
    Only for me to fall from my bed in a sweaty heap on the floor.  

The Way I Remember

     I haven’t written anything in a long while. It’s been maybe two months, maybe longer. That’s quiet a dry spell specially since I’ve pretty much posted something at least once a month for the past two years. Really I’m surprised that this has lasted for as long as it has- writing on here. When I was younger I always wanted to have a dairy that I wrote in everyday. I thought it’d be a cool thing to have, something to look back on when I was older. I had many diaries as a little girl, but I rarely had more than ten pages scribbled on. This is because I tended to start out strong, writing almost everyday for a week. Then my interest would wane and I would write every couple of days before I stopped writing completely.

     Such a thing would happen every time I received a journal with a lock on it. Off topic, but those locks were the flimsiest things. I found out I could open one of those things just by pushing down on the lock and twisting it. Makes me glad I didn’t keep any super deep dark secrets in there. Not that a eight year old me had any super dark secrets. 

‘Today I stole a cookie from the cookie jar!’ 

     Sheesh, I haven’t gotten into the heavy stuff and my couping mechanism is already starting up. Have I mentioned that I deal with shit by making a total fool of myself or cracking stupid jokes? That’s one of the ways I deal with my life.

     Anyways the reason I brought up diaries, because in a way this is a diary, just a very shitty one. More often than not I’m not writing with a huge amount of detail nor do I really use names or state things. It’s mostly random in some shape or form hidden among all the symbolism. Honestly if I went back far enough I, the original author of the post, wouldn’t have a clue what the fuck I’m talking about. I’ve done it before. Gone back and read a post with only the vaguest idea as to what life event I was describing, even than I’m not a 100% sure.

     My memory isn’t all that great. There are few things I can remember and even fewer I can recall in full detail. Most people would probably pity me in some way because of that, but it’s something I’m used to. I grew up with this terrible memory, it’s something I’ve had since day one.

     It’s not that I don’t remember anything, I just can’t seem to recall things in as much detail as others seem to be able to. The only time I am is because it’s a building/ place I’ve spent a lot of time in. Even than it can be iffy.

     My first memory or should I say the earliest memory I can recall is of me and my dog. I was four, it was summer and we were in a large grassy field. I’m pretty sure I was with my mother and father as well, but I can’t seem to place them in this memory. Still that’s my ‘first’ memory for me. The only other things I can tell you is that I remember being mesmerized by my dogs almost golden fur and feeling very happy just watching her.

     My childhood sort of just blends into school and birthday parties. Guess I had my priorities straight back then. Still if I look back on it as a whole it was a happy time for the most part. It was fun and exciting, except for sundays cause we always had to go to damn church. If I try to recall a sunday from back then a wave of boredom will suddenly hit me, along with a flash of green robes and the line ‘let us prey’ sung in a low tone.

     My parents would often go to parties friday or saturday evenings, dragging my brother and me along. I don’t recall ever having a sitter or someone watch us. There were always other kids though so the parties weren’t terrible, just boring. After a couple of hours my brother or me would constantly be asking my parents when we’d go home. The answer was always ‘soon’, ‘soon dear, go sleep on the couch, we’ll be leaving soon.’ Eventually my brother and I learned how to read clocks so we were able to get a more solid answer than soon. Funny I’m unable to recall what time we would actually leave these gatherings, just that it was always dark out.

     While my early childhood is somewhat pleasant to recall, jr. high is another thing entirely. One of the first things that come to mind is a sad scene. I’m crying in a high school high way, curled into a bit of a ball with a teacher next to me is trying to console me. I know I’d started the sixth grade just recently and was having trouble with something. I was very emotional that day for some reason, maybe it was hormones, maybe I was on my period, honestly can’t recall why. But I gave some sass to one of the teachers and was told to go out into the hallway. There the second teacher that was helping came out to try to understand why I was misbehaving and then I broke down into tears. It didn’t last long, I got myself back under control within a few minutes and went back into class. Still the teacher that consoled me ended up being my eight grade english teacher.

     If I focus on school in general the first things that come to mind are art class, the smell of clay and paint, flashes of fake blond hair, cruel high pitched laughter and large empty hallways. Those snippets bring about exasperation, happiness, anger and calm. As a whole jr high wasn’t too much fun, still if I focus I can find some fond memories in there that will probably stay with me for a long while. 

Never being able to say one of my friends names right even after having the same class with her for a whole school year. 

Surprising my spanish teacher by cursing out one of my classmates in polish right after she handed me back a barely passed spanish test.

 Being welcomed with a smile every day by my group of friends that grew and morphed each year. 

Staying after school for art club and goofing off the entire time. 

Being allowed to sit next to my best friend the entire year for seventh grade history, even though everyone else was always split up and moved every couple of weeks. 

     Each little snippet is sort of like a snapshot in my brain packed with emotions that will stir in my gut if I think on it long enough. Still sometimes when I think about the past it feels more like I’m trying to recall a movie I watched not too long ago or a book I finished a while back.

     In a way this has sort of shaped me and I how I choose to experience things. It means that if I’m not in a hurry I’m gonna take my time, because then I can take more in. Even though more often than not I’m just barely on time to an appointment or late to it entirely. When choosing a career for myself I choose something that involved more doing rather than memorizing, because I couldn’t do something that involved me remembering and recalling things almost instantly.

     I enjoy taking it slow, doing things at my own pace, allowing myself to suck in information, events and hope I can recall something from the experience later. It’s never much, but better than nothing.

     Sometimes I worry that I’ll develop Alzheimer at a really early age, even though no one in my nearest family has had the disease, I could be the first. This doesn’t terrify me, but worries, because who do you become when you are unable to remember what shaped you? If you start to loose the memories that gave you certain characteristics, that shaped your personality are you still you? I guess it’s an age old question that will never have a true answer. 

If I ever get the disease I’ll regret three things. 

I’ll regret forgetting three things.

I’ll regret forgetting three people.

It's not our fault

I used to think it was impossible to understand such a person.

That their lives would be so difficult that they would resort to such measures.

It was such a strange thought for me, my younger self, for how could someone stoop so low as to think such thoughts, consider such actions.

It just goes to show you how much of a green horn I once was, still probably am.

I found it difficult to understand such things, thinking if they had the proper outlook and just kept a positive attitude they'd be able to overcome it. 

I think differently now.

These days I'm aware of why people fall into such habits, why they think that it's their only option, why it's the only way they could get better.

Honestly, most people can't understand such thoughts, unless they themselves have had them or have helped a family member/ close friend deal with them. 

I use the word habit, because that is what it can become, that is how you fall back into it. 

Not only is it a habit, it's a reliance, a lifeline, something that helps you stay in control, gives you control of at least one thing. 

You're not helpless, you aren't weak, because you have control over that one thing, you and only you are in charge of it. 

Those thoughts are what keep you going, what keep you coming back, keep you from moving forward. 

That's normal. 

It's understandable.

It's a circle that sometimes never ends. 

At first you do it once, mostly because you need to do something. These things inside you, your stomache, your gut, worse your head they tell you something has to be done. 

So you do it, telling yourself just this one time and then never again. Of course that a lie, although you aren't aware of it at the time. 

This repeats a couple more times, until you now know there is no point in lying to yourself, because you've become dependent on this action. 

You're almost at a point of no return, not that you notice this because you're too busy trying to keep your head above water. 

Soon this takes over your life, very subtly of course. 

It's often at the back of your mind, you think of ways to hide it, when your going to do it next, what kind of excuse you'll make up in case you ever get caught. How will you react when you get caught?

 Will you laugh it off? 

Maybe start to cry? 

Get angry and confrontational? 

There are so many ways to go about this, but really it's about who will catch you. These thoughts never last long, sometimes they are outright shoved out of your brain. 

After all no one cares enough to notice all the hints you let out, all the differences that they could easily see if they just looked, so there's no worry of ever being caught. 

No one cares enough.

There are moments, small tiny lucid moments when you want to ask for help, but you quickly dismiss such thoughts.

This is your problem, you deal with it. 

Here is where the path splits some will go one way, others another. 

Sometimes you find help or help comes to you, either by accident or on purpose. Still the help comes and you're angry at first, but also secretly greatful to this new light that seems to help, that soothes you over. 

Eventually you do get better, you stop with the habit you were once so dependent upon because your okay with not having control. 

You know that it's okay not to have control.

The other path continues to spiral downward, getting steeper and steeper until finally there really is nothing left for you. 

Your life revolves around your habit and your dependency on it. 

Eventually your light fades away from this world either by your own choice or the habit finally being too much. 

It's the ones that get out of the current that have the highest chance of falling back into it. They could go years without there once desired/ needed/ wanted action before falling back. 

It's not our fault, after all it always whispers such sweet nothings into our ears, it takes away the pain, it gives us back a bit of control, helps us steady ourselves. 

Is it really that strange that we would be tempted to fall back into such a coy habit after having known it's embrace before? 

After all, all we want is our own hope, our own life, our own purpose. 

What we're really after though is an escape.

Just Another DayDream

    It's quiet in the small lived in apartment. All the lights are out and it's late in the evening, so you can barely make out what it looks like. What you can see though is fairly average. There's a plain deep blue, three seater couch in front of a small coffee table and a television set with two bookshelves, filled with literature, on either sides.
    Behind the couch is a bit of free area, before you meet countertop and bar stools lined up on one side. The other side is an open kitchen area, that looks fairly neat in the darkness. It seems to be the whole room, although there is a dog crate in one corner and a box filled with toys, most likely for the canine. If there's a dog bed then where's the dogo?
    You notice an open door off the right of the living area and head towards it. Inside you find a large queen sized bed with dark grey sheets and colorful pillows. It's a very lived in room and there are things all over the walls and floors, but you pay them no mind for you know this is where you will find the dog.
    He's easy to spot, laying right in the middle of the bed, curled out on his side breathing deeply. He seems to be asleep and you take your time looking him over. He's scruffy, with white fur and random splotches of black and brown and a tail that seems a tad crooked. You don't recognize the breed, but he sort of looks like a mix between a basset hound and a daschund. Slowly you start to reach out, curious as to what the dog feels like, but before you get the chances the dog jumps up and runs right through you.
    You jump, suddenly broken from your trance and follow after the creature curious as to what he's doing. It isn't until you hear a key unlocking the door that you realize the humans of the house have arrived. The dog went through you so, there is little reason to worry about anyone seeing you, instead you lean against the couch wondering who's about to enter.
    A male walks in and the dog immediately pounces on him. He shouts "Bax!" In exasperation, but you know he's happy as he walks in and pets the excited dog- Bax. It takes you a moment, but you feel like the man who just walked in is very familiar to you. He has long blonde hair, that's tied back in a pony tail, pale white skin and eyes that look blue, but also sort of green. He's wearing dark jeans and a green button down shirt.
    The male doesn't stay for long, because after he greets Bax he puts on the dogs collar and takes him out. You're once again left alone in the apartment. You take the time to continue exploaring, the man will probably be back with Bax soon, so you should snoop while you still can. Returning to the bedroom you can tell the man doesn't live here alone, he has a companion, but it's hard to tell if it's a male or female for most of the items laying around are things that could belong to both sex's.
    You discover another a bathroom, that you avoid not wanting to know what's inside and a find a storage closet and a spare bedroom. Although the bedroom is empty, so you collapse on the couch bored. The place is small and very much lived in, and even though it's foreign to you somehow you find this place calms and relaxs you. The front door opens and you find the familiar male walking back in with Bax, he wrestles with the dogs paws trying to clean them, before giving in and letting the dog run rampant in their home. He just sighs and smiles fondly before looking towards the clock hanging on the wall. Seems he's expecting someone, maybe his fellow flatemate?
    The lights are finally turned on while the male goes to the bedroom and closes the door. The dog immediately runs to the door and seems to wait for the male, you smile at the attachment the dog has towards him. A moment later the man walks in wearing a t-shirt, and the dog jumps on him once again before runing to his toy box. The male plays with him for a couple of minutes and you observe wondering why he seems so familiar, why the situation itself seems to scream at you, but you just don't know.
    After awhile the blonde stands and goes to the kitchen pulling something out of the fridge, before setting the stove. It's then that you notice a single picture frame on the windowsill near the kitchen. You seem to jump towards it with a surprising amount of energy. It seems like a family portrait with Bax in the middle and two humans holding him. You can tell that one is the blonde, but for some reason you can't see the other in detail. They're smaller than the blonde man and have short hair, both of them are smiling laughing even, but who is this other person! Most importantly why do you care so much?
    You sigh in frustration wanting to know, but it's not like you can ask. Then Bax catches your attention when he scrambles to the door jumping on whoever is entering. The blonde says something from the kitchen, but you can't hear anything for some reason. You turn curious as to who the other occupant of the home is, but find that instead of turning you end up opening your eyes and are greeted with sunlight. You're struck with confusion, before you realize you must have fallen into another daydream.

Just another daydream. 

The begining of my masks and other crap

    I find it hard to express my feelings towards others, now at least. It's hard to remember, but I think it was easier for me when I was younger. It was easier to be bold and loud when you were unaware of the consequences of such actions. Even then when I tried to hide my feelings I was easy to read, like a book you could say.
    I couldn't lie with a striaght face, without my voice hitching or my eyes looking away. Now it's almost second nature in a strange fucked up way. It's something my father encouraged once I got older, the ability to lie being a highly useful thing in life.
    At first I was agaisnt such a thing, finding it distasteful and just wrong, but after a while I found it easier to lie in certain situations than it was to tell the truth. It became a slow downfall that I easily embraced and twisted into my own being. A beautiful mask handcrafted by myself and worn only when it was necessary.
    It was towards teachers at first and only half lies, after all the best lie is hidden in a truth. It was easy having already gained their trust earlier by being the calm student in class. Eventually it morphed and I started lying to my family. Such an easy thing to do, specially since it was over the phone and I just had to use the right tone of voice. I was really tested when I saw them all in person, another mask was born then- the good daughter. She said all the right things to make that part of the family happy and easily kept in their good graces.
    That mask has been lost overtime, for I have long since stopped caring what they think of me. It means little to me whether they care for me or not. It's easy to guess that as I grew older more masks were crafted and it became easier and easier for me to switch between them. Sometimes it's difficult to tell whether I'm acting a part or being myself.
    This probably explains my inability to express my emotions and be unable to understand them. Which is a curious thing for I still experience them, but just have difficulty grasping them. It took me the longest time to know what Aster truely meant to me and even then my subconscious had to help me by sending me a strange dream. Although me knowing what he means to me doesn't help if I'm unable to express that feeling towards him.
    One of my guilty pleasures is fanfiction, more speciffically slash/yaoi/boyxboy hint hint nudge nudge. If you don't understand than you're either really innocent or too young to be reading this. Either way you shouldn't be here. Please press Alt+F4. Gone? Good.
    Anyway, I enjoy reading about the steady building of a romantic male relationship, because more often than not both of the protagonists have difficulty discussing their feelings or expressing them in certain ways. That or they go about showing their feelings in the most ludicrous of ways that it's baffling to me that they ever manage to get together in the first place. Alas those boys have the power of an author on their side, which unfortunelty for them means they will somehow end up together.
    Back to my point, because surprisingly there is a point, I find it easy to empathize with these types of characters, the ones that are shy, embarrassed, or emotionally stunted because I'm so much like them in some ways. Finding it difficult to express my love to the one I care for, showing it in such small ways that they will likely never notice such things.
    Holding myself back from taking the lead or just letting myself go. Hesitating, because I'm a coward. That's the main difference between those characters and me they stand up and take charge when they must, me? Well I end up freezing, unable to react unsure of what to say, angry at myself for being so unaware of the needs of my partner and unable to do anything to help them. In those moments I'm worse than scum.
    I'm trying to change though, specially after I royally fucked up not too long ago with Aster and Larkspur ended up breathing down my neck trying to keep herself from strangling me. Since then I've been trying to show more, but it's hard sometimes, because there is still a tiny piece inside of me telling me to hold back because Aster will leave one day, they all do and it will only hurt more.
    It's hard not listening to that voice, but I've found it to be easier after I outright told Aster my fear. 'I'm used to people eventually leaving,' I told him. 'It's just a part of life and something that's a normal occurence in my own.' The obvious that means I'm waiting for you to leave as well went unsaid, still I wonder if he understood it completely. I won't lie to him, not anymore, but I still won't tell him everything. 
    I feel like I'm rambaling about nothing. Still I feel as if I'm in a stump. It's difficult to write recently, but I enjoy writing so this is me forceing something, even though it's just awful. I apologize for this horrendous piece of writing, I'll work on it. Maybe write out my daydream.

Till next time

Don't Read This (Just too F*cking Long also unedited)

    I don’t remember the last time I wrote. Maybe, a month ago, but at the same time I’m not really sure. Sometimes I have trouble writing cause I always feel like doing it when I’m laying in bed starting to fall asleep or just kind of laying there hoping sleep will take me soon. Other times I have trouble writing because I know Larkspur reads this. She doesn’t always do it regularly and sometimes only does it ever few months, but the fact they she will at one point stumble upon these. Read them, decipher them and maybe understand them. Well this occasionally holds me back from being 100% truthful that I get creative and throw in a shit ton of symbolism, where sometimes the only way you know what I’m talking about is if you actually know whats going on with my life. 

    There’s also that teeny tiny little fear that someone I know in the world will find these, randomly and by accident. If they ever did than there is little chance that they’d actually know this was mine as very few people are aware of me writing online and again the shit ton of symbolism I use. It’s funny cause I wasn’t too big of a fan of symbolism in high school, I found it difficult to decipher and understand. I’ve now come to appreciate it in a way that only another author could. Not that I would call myself an author. My random ass short stories don’t really count in my opinion.

    Still there have been a few things weighing on my mind recently that keep me awake at night. Yesterday it was so bad I almost went into a panic attack, in order to keep myself from the swirling vortex of thoughts I had to go into a meditative state and focus almost solely on my breathing before venturing into my mind scape. That was the only reason I actually fell asleep last night, I might have to start meditating every night again, because my thoughts have been keeping me up more often than not recently. There is just so much bullshit that suddenly comes to the forefront of my mind when I’m about to fall asleep. During the day it’s easy to block all of them out, because of all the noise around me. I can just let random youtube videos play for hours on end or listen to music, even open my door so I can hear the tv from the living room. That or just focus on my task like a normal human being. Did I mention people watching? Distractions from myself are so easy to find during the day it’s night when I’m worried.

     Recently I’ve been feeling less at home in my house than ever before. I live in my grandmothers home along with my father. It’s a pretty big house with three stories above land and one bellow along with a huge garden. Really the house was meant for six people, but then my grandfather past away, mother left, eventually stealing away Azael, leaving just three. Because of this there are a lot of unused rooms now, my grandfathers old room that acts like a guest room, my brothers room and a random spare bedroom that my grandmother uses for storage. All three of the rooms smell of disuse and abandonment, even though I tend to clean them when I can and open windows when it’s nice. The size of the house and the inhabitants make it unbearable to live there sometimes, so after a while I took to just keeping my doors closed all the time, keeping to my space. My bedroom became home and everything else was just stuff. I guess it made it easier to live in such a huge and empty home, knowing that at one point it was lively and lived in and now it’s the opposite. At one point Aster started coming over every Friday and staying until Sunday, another human in the house made the place more bearable, made it feel more alive I guess. Recently my father went on a week long business trip, leaving me the car with a full tank. When he got back the tank was almost half empty. I ended up driving to school every day, but not only that I drove to Aster’s house pretty much everyday right after school as well. Sometimes I would drive straight there if I ended late enough, others I’d drive home only to drop off my stuff grab a quick bite to eat and tell my grandmother I’ll be back late. More often than not I stayed there till late in the evening, driving home only to sleep and repeat the process. I preferred this over staying in an almost desolate house. I hate it when it’s all quite and empty, only the occasional creaks from the floors or drafts shutting things, because it’s an old house. At night this plays on my imagination, but if I come home tired from being around people all day and being in Asters home well than I pass right on out when I get to bed.

    Sometimes I wish I could erase my memories. Just everything that I had from 16 and under can be whipped clean and forgotten. It would hurt less. Not knowing what it feels like to have a loving family and then suddenly finding out that it’d been slowly going downhill since I was a child, until finally it’s ripped away from you completely. In theory I still have them; my mother, brother and grandmother are in the states, while my father and gram are here, but it just feels forced now. Every time I visit it feels like my mother is cramming in as much affection as possible, spoiling me with food, taking me to old favorites and buying me new clothes, even though I know she’s on a tight budget now. There are times where I feel she only really acknowledges Azael when I’m there. It’s like she wants to remember us always being together ignoring the fact that in reality we live with an ocean between us and it’s all her fault. There are times where I forget that this is all a forced charade, that Azael and I don’t have a secret list of things that we can’t talk about in front of our parents, that we don’t both in some shape or form suffer from depression. Mine was luckily much worse than his, probably because he was just a tad too young to completely understand what was going on at the time. The boy lost a lot of confidence. He became hesitant to make new friends fearing that they would be ripped away from him eventually. Turning to the internet, because there distance didn’t matter and no one could take them from him. He kept up his grades and cleaned his room, that way mother wouldn’t nag and fights wouldn’t break out too often between the two. And me well, I’m just another open and shut case of a child dealing with a dead family, because that’s what they feel like. I hate visiting my grandmother and listening to her plead with me. Beg me to stay or visit as soon as I can. Every time I see her I feel like I see her less and less like a close family figure and more like a distant relative that saw me as a baby years ago. She’s most likely suffering from abandonment issues and depression. I know she’s on some kind of medication and that whenever she takes it she starts sounding like she’s drunk. More often than not I just smile and nod when I see her, trying to lie as little as possible, even though I’m already drowning in non-truths. The easiest person to talk about is the grandmother I live with. Even though we live in the same house I don’t see her too often since there is a door that separates her from the rest of the house. She sort of has her own private wing with a kitchen, living room and bedroom all to herself. There have been time were I only saw his in passing in the morning while making breakfast or just going to the kitchen in general. We tend to just say good morning to each other, sometimes asking how our days are going. Although I mostly just say it’s good and let my grandmother ramble on. She’s sweet but stubborn and I’m grateful that all I have to do is show her that I’m alive, say everything’s ‘good’ and she’s satisfied with that. The only downside is that I have to keep my tattoos hidden from her, although eventually I will show them to her, probably sooner rather than later.

    Over the years my relationship with my father has evolved drastically. When I was younger I was a daddies girl, even had a fucking pink t-shirt with those words written in white sparkles on it. I will admit if someone asked me to chose between my parents I would choose my father. He was the laid back one, the kind one who really had no flaws that I could see. He worked a lot so I only really got to see him in the evenings, but he helped with homework and rarely ever yelled at me. I would do anything to try to get him to be proud of me. I suffered through two or three years of soccer for him, because he wanted one of his kids to play. Let me tell you I was fucking awe full at the sport and I hated all the running. At one point we had the option to learn an instrument which I was super interested in, but ended up not doing because it collided with my soccer schedule. That and when my mom found out I wanted to learn to play the trumpet she quickly vetoed. Eventually I quite and focused more on my grades in school. I was already a b+ student so I bumped it up to all A’s to see if I could get my fathers approval then. Nope, nadda just a good job and a pat on the head. Why’s that, because despite my good grades I was still in the average curriculum and not in the advanced one. If you scored high enough you could be bumped up a level in math or english or both. My father was always disappointed I wasn’t in the advanced math group even though I tried my best and gave it my all it was never enough really. This carried over with the move, but only really held up for a year. I broke in late 2010. Everyday for almost a week I’d been studying for a math test with my father. I felt like I knew the material and was confident I would pass. I put a lot of hope into that test. After changing countries and languages and struggling with everything except english, well math because a secret love hate subject of mine. Love because it was mostly numbers, I didn’t need to know the language to understand the problem and solve it, hate because my brain was humanitarian- geared toward art and writing. Those were my strong point back there, in this new place though they were practically worthless. I got the test back a week later and cried my eyes out alone in my bed room. Eventually I told my parents and all they had was pity in their eyes. That was the day I cracked and and started to slowly shatter into a million pieces. I stopped trying to impress my father after that, no longer really caring for his approval but still sometimes secretly wishing for it. More often than not I wished to have been born a boy, because that way I would more likely be mathematically inclined like my brother. When mother left the house felt very light for a few weeks, the only yelling heard was father trying to force Azael to do his homework. The rest of the time it felt like we were walking on clouds, no longer worried about aggravating our mother, or worried that she’ll suddenly start yelling for no reason. For a short period of time it felt like we were back in our childhood home, where there was only positive energy and love all around. Damn, I sound like a fucking hippie, but that’s what it felt like. Eventually, only my father and I were left. Both broken, somber, our smiles never seemed to reach our eyes we both just existed for a short while. We relied on each other a lot then. Taking comfort in knowing that we survived this ‘war,’ yet also crying over Azael the ‘victim.’ We started talking to each other more, going out and doing things together, relying on one another. Eventually after almost two years my father started dating, he seemed to be healed after that thing we went through. Me, I was better, better at hiding things, speaking in half truths, keeping to myself, shutting things down inside me. My better was the stark black glove that few seemed to question. This is were everything started to slowly change, because here is where Anna come in. Anna was a girl my father started to date eventually becoming a pair. I was honestly happy for him, he left the house more, seemed more cheerful and just better in general. I’d started dating Aster not too long ago so we both had new relationships, although they were drastically different. While Aster’s and my relationship was calm and slow building, theres was like a whirlwind after they set down some ground rules. I quickly became number two in my fathers heart eventually becoming number three until finally I disappeared from his thoughts almost entirely. We stopped going out together, we stopped talking as much and we became more distant, at least I did with him. I don’t think he ever noticed that we drifted apart, that I stopped… He used to tell me about his day, what stupid things his boss asked him to do and interesting conversations he had with his co-workers. He’d than ask me about mine and we would casually talk for a good half an hour. Now though I rarely got anything from him, he started saying work was work so I started replying school was school. He stopped telling me things like, hey I’m not going to be back till like ten in the evening cause after work I’m going out. Or just things he was going to change around the house, what he wanted to renovate, that something broke and I wasn’t suppose to use it. I don’t remember how many times I heard him say, ‘Oh, I didn’t tell you? Must have only told Anna and Gram than.’ It came down to me just being his investment. ‘After all someones got to take care of me once I’m old and gray.’ After hearing that so many times and seeing the drop in affection and care you stop seeing the father and start seeing the jail keeper. Not that I can say I live in a jail, I have it pretty decent. I have food, internet connection, a warm bed and little responsibilities. As long as I play the good student everythings fine. It’s when I break the mold and be myself that my father gets annoyed, because I’m not doing what he wants me to do. Well heres a quick fuck off to you ‘daddy.’ Did you know in the morning I’m a total fucking bitch, especially when I slept like shit? You know what I appreciate in the mornings, quite and just leaving me the fuck alone in general. I’m not a fucking morning person like you are, but no matter how many fucking times I tell you it never seems to get through your damn thick skull. So when you start sassing me in the morning, know this I’m going to be a queen bitch to you, because I don’t want to deal with any of your god damn sass. I want some coffee and maybe food. I want to stop feeling like there’s sand in my eyes and a cloud inside my brain, but I need time for that to happen. So when you start bugging me and pushing your expectations on me from early in the morning than I’m going to flip you off and your expectations, because guess what it’s morning and I could just as easily do those things in two hours. But, no you end up acting the the biggest fucking baby on the planet and start to ignore me. Maybe if I just ignore the adult female that resides in this home I can convince myself that she’s just a ghost and not my daughter. Oh, don’t worry asshat, cause I stopped being your daughter a while ago, there’s no need to worry your pretty little head over it. This is what my relationship with my father has come to- a pissing match. Not a very interesting one either since we’re both content to just ignore one another. I try not to think about him to much, because he just makes me angry. An emotion I don’t enjoy and try to keep locked away, so I try to stick to annoyance.

    So that’s just a small crash course of family relationships. Stay tuned for some more crap.

    Since I’m currently sitting in my uni’s huge as library, not planning on being home sooner than 20, might as well continue spilling my guts since I don’t have anyone else to spill them to. 

    Recently, my brain keeps telling me to break up with Aster and I really don’t know why. Every time my brain brings it up my heart hurts and protests, saying why!? I’m just as confused, because Aster is one of the few people that give any sort of meaning to my life. Any physical affection I get these days, when I’m not over at my moms, is from him. He cares, he writes, he puts up with my stupidity. He does so much! 

    So why does my brain keep suggesting that I break up with him, when it physically pains me to think of such a think. Is it a self defense mechanism? Could it be my brain going, hey you don’t deserve him specially since you’re going to die soon anyway, so just leave him be. Let him live his life. I’m really not sure. It’s not something I could every bring up to him, but it’s something that I will have to tell Larkspur about, maybe she can help me understand this mess.