I found myself doubled over, clinging desperately to the broken cat-post, sobbing to the point of hysteria, feeling myself sick to my stomach with the horrible urge to puke everything up, as I cried miserably to myself, unable to stop, and all I could think was;
‘What does it feel like to be sad?’
Because as hard as I tried, even through the pain my mind was telling me I was feeling, the agony of the truth of the matter–
I found myself feeling nothing. Nothing at all. The pain I had read about that was suppose to be crippling, the pain that was suppose to be deep and horrible and beautifully blue like the ocean…
It just wasn’t there.
I think I used to feel something like sadness, like depression. But I have no idea where it went.
And in the midst of a sobbing hysteria fest–my thoughts only drifted to another thing.
‘How can I make this a story? What characters can I use for this? What plot fits what’s happening now?’
And for the first time in my life, I found nothing. Nothing fit in to the tragedy of this new truth. Nothing could comfort me, and I struggled to make it unreal.
For an entire day, I stayed in the reality of the truth, horrified.
Because all that matters, even during the darkest hours, is using whatever happens to me, for my characters, my stories. And my mother’s madness–her being in a mental ward–nothing fit with it.
For a few days I then struggled with making it positively unreal–it took up all my time, being half in reality. I had to focus everything on making myself better–meaning I couldn’t ignore the objects as much, and I was easily subjected to Mischa’s demands. Which meant I couldn’t ignore what floated about.
And yet like my mother, I found it all the same. Easy to laugh and joke around while inside I was eating myself alive with the single thought running through my mind ‘How do I make this unreal?’. Acting, or being, happy is the easiest thing in the world. Laughter comes naturally. It must.
Because my mother’s words are clogged into my brain, jammed, unable to leave. Appearances are everything.
Fake it until you make, she says.
Somehow through all these years, I lost a lot of feelings. I can’t remember what it is to be sad, and I don’t know how to be angry. I feel no reason to do anything but be cheerful. That’s how people know me, and this cannot change.
Years ago, I declared how I hated the ‘preps’ and the ’skaters’ and the ‘Jocks’. I hated them, and their “evil” ways and everything they did.
But now, I don’t… care. Whatever they do, it’s their life choice, they don’t effect me, I don’t care what they wear, who the date, and what they do. At all. They’re not even real to me, I don’t normally see them. They’re just people in a giant mass of other people, and they aren’t my friends, so I pay them no mind.
And my horrible truth, what would make me Slytherin, is for the fact that most of the people I know, the people I hang out with…
I don’t feel anything for.
Yes, I’ll buy them things, go to their birthday parties, stay on the phone with them, listen to their problems, help them out, laugh with them, go to the mall with them, sometimes even take them on expensive vacations, stick up for them and make sure they’re always happy–
But I might even actually dislike them. It’s expected for me to act a certain way, whether or not I feel anything. I’d even take a blow to a head by a lamp for them.
When I was younger I daydreamed about killing them off–but that stopped when bad things would happen to me soon after I thought such things. Karma always knows.
It wasn’t until 8th grade that I ACTUALLY started understanding friendship, and half way through 9th grade I became social with the phone calls and such.
From first grade until 6th, I had a best friend named Jessica. I took her everywhere, did everything with her–but I never felt anything but mild annoyance.
Now I sort of like her.
I find that its extremely hard for me to like people. I usually feel indifference or appreciation. And I’d rather admire the pretty nerds then actually befriend them. Most the people I befriend I use them for stories ideas and plot lines.
I would get married and have a life with children and a husband just for the sake of a story.
There’s a few people that have come into my small circle that I’ve come to care about. I tell them I love them, but I’m unsure what love is, so it must be so.
I don’t love them as much as my stories, though.
But I care very deeply for them. Out of everyone I know, it’s only five people. Sometimes six. Though I don’t think Kaggy or Mai should count–they’re very different. Kaggy is like a sister, and Mai..
Well.
That’s a different kind of love. I think she worries about our relationship sometimes, that maybe I’d find another. I think that’s silly. I don’t love people normally, but her glow made me love her.
Then there’s Venny. She’s always been there, dunno why. And she doesn’t ask for much. She doesn’t expect much. She doesn’t acquire much. She doesn’t cling either–and she understand better than a lot of people. She knows I don’t love people. And she makes me happy.
Plus she steals me things, and I’m always extremely grateful.
There’s Nathan–but it’s different with him. I dunno if he likes me much. I’m just happy to look at him and hear him belittle me with his vocabulary. Mischa’s in the same boat.
Now, I’m trying to be honest with myself. It’s hard, because, well…
Because I lie to my diary, and even to my blog. I lie because I need the illusion of the appearance to carry through.
Dennis, as much as it irks me to say it, isn’t loved, but has something of mine that makes me more loyal then a dog. We’re not talking about those darker days.
If I said I loved Wife, I just might not. I don’t like being depended on, and I haven’t talked to her in awhile, so I don’t remember how I feel.
Then there’s Billy. I trust him, but I don’t know if I care about him. He’s still a boy, gay or not.
This leaves us with Cap. Snarf. She’s selfish, which is very good, I don’t like it when people care too much about my stuff, but she’s very pretty in the way that she tends to take care of me. Plus we’re best friends. 8D I like her, as much as I like Venny, because she sometimes reminds me of Elizabeth and she’s got a drama filled life that I can take so much from.
So there.
Venny, Cap. Snarf, Billy…
Mai and Kaggy.
Wife, sometimes? Because I feel as though its what should be.
Eh. I’m sort of annoyed that I care about so many people. But out of all the people I know… this is such a small number.
I’d always love Nathan. :3
