Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

[October 10, 2016]
It must be hard to love someone like me. It must be hard. I know it must be hard.

Sometimes, I don't even have the tolerance to deal with myself. By sometimes, I mean a lot of the times. The frequency only increases with time.

The breakdowns are back. The bad ones. The ones that trap me in bed, cause my throat to become paper dry with my hyperventilations, make my hands ache, and scratch the skin off my arms.

I... need more long sleeve shirts. These red sleeves draw too much attention, to much obligatory concern.

Why do I even scratch? Why is that my instinct when I'm having a breakdown? I used to think it was to redirect my frustration. I still think that's part of it. Previously, I did it without restraint because I couldn't feel the pain.

Feeling pain was reassuring because it meant that the shadow was leaving me, that I'd be returning to my senses in due time.

Yesterday, my day of wanting death, I had a terrible breakdown. I got home around a quarter to one, went straight to my room, and cried until about a quarter after two. If only it was just your regular ol' "I need a break from the noise of life" cry, but alas, it was not. It was a breakdown.

It was strange, though. I felt... incredibly scared. I felt like I desperately needed immediate help. I felt like I was going to die if I didn't reach out soon enough. I wonder how I would have done it. Would I have jumped off of something? Hung myself? Overdose? Drank bleach? Drowned myself? Oh, the possibilities at home.

I wanted to call my precious hero first, but I... couldn't bring myself to. I was scared of... being a nuisance to him, scared of bothering him, scared of giving him more things to worry about, scared of making him any less happy. Ah, yes, I was scared that my depression was going to kill his happiness.

Instead, I sent him a snap. Y'know, a temporary update, a whisper of help instead of a cry for help.

So I called Mr. Train. I don't recall if I've written about Mr. Train in this journal. If I haven't, I will eventually, but not too much today. Just know that he is my staple to reality.

The call rang several times before it gave up. Reunited with the silence of the shadow, I started panicking.

I called Root Beer. No response either. I desperately, desperately needed someone.

And then I called No'C, and it was 12:5-something pm. The call rang several times and I was already thinking of other souls who might be available. Then the ringing stopped and I heard the oh so familiar sound of No'C waking up.

"Hi," I tried to say, but my voice croaked out as barely a whisper.

He greeted me and asked me if I was okay. I told him I wasn't and asked him, weakly of course, "Do you have any jokes?"

"Uhhh..."

I called No'C not even a week ago for the same reason. I'm telling you, the breakdowns are becoming more and more frequent. Last time I called, I asked him to tell me jokes. The time I relied on No'C before that, I wrote an entry. I forget which one, but I'll hyperlink it here when I get home.

Anyhow, No'C commenced telling me jokes. He was reading them off some site, but he'd incorporate his own personality into them and it was comforting. "Oh did I tell you about my friend?" he'd randomly interject. "She heard that biting her lip was seductive, but I didn't have the heart to tell her it was supposed to be the bottom lip."

I thought it was funny. *sighs* But I remembered the two other times I relied on No'C, and how I'd tell him to tell me jokes to distract my depression, and how he wouldn't hesitate to tell me jokes, and how after I got better, I'd thank him, and how after I got "better," the shadow would always come back. It was only a temporary fix. He was only a drug to get high off of.

After a few jokes, I said, "I want to be happy. I don't want to be not happy. I wanna stop being like this."

And of course, being me, reflecting on my dissatisfactions makes me incredibly vulnerable and my hyperventilations started up again.

"Happiness is different for everyone," No'C starts. He started telling me things that I don't believe, but just experiencing someone's effort to console me made me feel better.

He started asking me questions, then. To majority of them, I replied with, "I don't know." And it wasn't as if I didn't have answers to his questions. It's just that I knew my answers were generated by the Shadow and that they weren't true answers. Perhaps it can be said that the only thing I learned in these past few months is how to differentiate between the Shadow's thoughts and actual valid and evidence-supported reality.

Eventually, No'C went to eat dinner. "Do you want me to rush?"

"No, don't rush."

"I don't wanna leave a friend like this," he says. "I'll rush. Five minutes, okay? Okay."

Silence. The call started filling up with white noise and I let my emotions loose. At this point, I was releasing audible sobs, going through several tissues, adding to the pile. I opened the window, despite the negative temperature, and prayed the cold of winter would numb my hurting heart.

[October 11, 2016]
And it certainly did make me cold.

Root Beer then called. It was a video call and my first thought before picking up was that I probably looked like how I felt: a mess. *Accept* I forgot who said what and what was said. I remember desperately trying to calm myself down because I was sure he wouldn't want to witness one of my breakdowns. I recently (29 September 2016) had a conversation with him which had since made me feel like I shouldn't let Root Beer know about when the Shadow attacks me.

It took a while to calm down enough to talk to him. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that his presence was quickly dissolving the Shadow's hold on me. It was something that no one else could do right now. Everyone else could only hide me from the Shadow for some time, but it was as if I'd hide in fear because I know the Shadow is a relentless hunter. Root Beer made me feel safe for some time, as if he fought my battle for me while I recovered from my battle wounds. A tag team.

He advised me to tell my siblings about my... condition, and I told him that I thought that I should, too. I wouldn't want to take my own life if my siblings could have prevented it. I wouldn't want my siblings to find out about the Shadow after my death. Oh, how hopeless and helpless that would make them feel. I've written about it before, but the prospect of causing others grief helps me continue living.

Ah, but you see, dear reader, I absolutely detest being someone's burden. I hate having to be a target of persistent worry. I'm flattered by the concern of others, but I don't want to drag anyone else down with me, and that's why I haven't told my family. I don't want them to fear for my life as I do. I don't want to somehow... let my depression kill their happiness.

I don't know if they know. My sister has walked in on me crying before and my father probably heard a handful of my nighttime breakdowns since he stays up so late. I don't know if they know. I don't know how much they know. Now that I'm a legal adult and can seek professional help on my own, maybe they don't have to know.

[October 12, 2016]
But anyhow! Things seemed to get better fast. The silliest bump in my recovery happened, though. Root Beer challenged me to solve for the second derivative of an implicit function, which I took upon myself as a challenge to prove my worth.

He sent the same message to another soul, who will not be named in this journal yet. Maybe he said it as a joke, but he openly wondered which soul would solve it first (me or the other recipient of the implicit function) and... and I just felt like I lost before the game even started, aha.

The... specific soul that he sent it to in addition to me is a soul that I already seem to compete with on a daily basis. The thought of her (whoops, gender reveal) is lovely food for the Shadow. Her advantages, her capabilities, her... circumstances, let's say, are things I find myself competing with on the daily.

It's not her fault. Surely not entirely, but arguably indirectly partially.

It's not Root Beer's fault either. Definitely not entirely. You know I would rather blame the Shadow than him.

Is it my fault? I mean, I've been told that it isn't, but people can lie.

[October 30, 2016]
It's been a few days, but I want to upload this entry before I upload another one I'm working on ("Imouto no aniki" wink . I don't entirely remember my intended scope of this entry, but upon rereading my current progress, I s'pose I'll just offer some concluding thoughts.

Since the last day I worked on this entry, I have had several breakdowns and Root Beer has only gotten more distant. The will to kill myself has subsided since earlier this week when my friend approached death again. I realized that her death would destroy me, so I'll stay alive as to keep from destroying anyone else.

As with the Shadow and Root Beer, they are somehow inexplicably linked now. The Shadow compensates for the lack of care and attention Root Beer gives to me. It might just be a phase, but for the last two or three days, I am finding that I am beginning to love the Shadow. It loves me, after all, and never leaves my side and at night, when I feel most alone, the Shadow engulfingly embraces me.

[October 31, 2016 - Happy Halloween!]
I think I'm fully settled on the fact that my Shadow will never go away. I'm settled on the fact that working towards the death of my Shadow is silly since it can't and won't die. It might just be a phase, but learning to love the Shadow has been like learning to accept a huge part of myself. Only when I accept myself will I be able to love myself.

The thing is, though, it's hard to love the Shadow and thus it must be hard to love me.

Imagine your friend was in a toxic relationship in which her lover attempts to kill her every three days. Every time this lover tries, his (arbitrary gender for this lover) methods become more and more severe, and with every attempt, your friend gets closer and closer to death. The consequences of the previous attempt are always yet to heal by the time the next attempt comes.

You, being not intrinsically involved in this toxic relationship, tell your friend she needs to get out of that relationship. You tell your friend that that relationship isn't good for her and you worry that one day, her lover will succeed in killing her, but... she knows all that. She knows that the relationship is toxic and sometimes she does want out. She's attached to her lover, though, because her lover always puts her first. It is only because her lover knows her best that her lover can hurt her most.

You, on the other hand, all you see is how much pain she endures as a natural part of being with her lover and you find that, because you care about your friend, you don't like her lover. You think it's obvious that he is a bad guy and that your friend should just leave, but don't you see that she can't? She's trapped. She knows it's better outside this relationship, she knows staying in this relationship isn't good, she knows that she might actually die one day by the hands of her lover, but don't you see? She can't leave.

One day in this imaginary world, you lose your patience. You realize that you hate her lover... or are you scared that her lover will try to kill you, too? You realize that you simply don't want to see her lover and if that means you don't get to see her, then so be it. Amen. You leave her.

Was that a comprehensive analogy? It was written with three entities in mind: Root Beer (you), me (your friend), and my depression (her lover). A few possible discrepancies might exist, though.

Are Root Beer and me just friends? Not by status because we've got a relationboat.

Is the Shadow obsessed with me? Yes.

Does the Shadow attack at night? Usually.

Does the Shadow hurt me? Well, the scratches always heal eventually. (The ones on my left hand from before uni started have mostly healed! Just four little marks from the four deepest parts of the four separate scratches by my four human fingers are left.)

Do I want to escape the Shadow? I used to think so, but it's been easier since I've stopped fighting.

Does Root Beer like the Shadow? Probably not. It's... taxing, apparently.

Is Root Beer scared of the Shadow? I don't know. He hasn't said so, but I haven't been able to ask.

Will Root Beer leave me because of the Shadow? I hope not, but I don't have it in me to be surprised if such becomes the case.

[November 06, 2016]
I wonder how long Root Beer and I will be able to uphold our relationship. These past two months and a bit have been kind of rough, but what's two months of an eternity? My mentality holds that it could work if only both sides still believed.

But this entry isn't really about Root Beer. Upon rereading it, it definitely sounds like Root Beer is a protagonist in the pathetic excuse of a story, aha. I really do need to upload this entry, though, so let's see if I can wrap it up tonight! (I'm in hopeful spirits right now.)

Let's look at the title of this entry. "Like Me" actually has a double meaning. The "like" refers to both the verb of affection and the a word of comparison. In the former, it refers to being able to cherish me, I s'pose, while the latter alludes to my place within the society of the shadow. I hope that made sense. It's not a super profound title, but it does have some connotations.

Anyhwey, I am depressed! I have breakdowns. I recently developed the tendency of having suicidal thoughts. What more can I say? I am a broken soul and it's hard even for me to be around myself, so how can I expect someone to like me? Someone like me?



Today's lyrics:
Walk this avenue
I refuse to be with any other lover
So be the magic in my world
But I could only dream of it

Definitely not the most masterful snipping of the song, but I really like this song. It probably lured me into a plethora of unfortunately hopeful disasters, but at least it kept me going. Look it up if you're curious. I still stand by the belief that it's a good song. Do you trust me? yum_puddi