I Can Feel It

It has been a long time since I ran and came back. I thought I was done running and that the part of me that longs for solitude and anonymity was barricaded off along with the part of me that feels.

It has been a long time since I have felt myself breaking, splintering into more pieces than I knew were possible. It is not just here it is my home that I want to be away from. I said that would never happen again. Unfortunately I let someone in there that broke me further and despite repeated attempts to distance him from me without involving law enforcement have proved futile. He just doesn’t understand that what he is doing is hurting me or at least I hope he doesn’t understand.

If he does it just means he is a selfish leech who only wants to continue to live off of me like he has since I broke up with him several years ago. It is partially my fault because I felt bad for him and didn’t want him to be homeless but all I want now is to have him gone and my house back.

I never thought being nice could hurt me so bad for so long. It is very true no good deed goes unpunished and even though I have begged him to leave and stop leeching off of me it is going to take law enforcement to get him out.

How did I get myself into a situation where I want to run from my own home?

He knows it hurts, he knows what his refusal to leave does to me, how it breaks me a little bit further and still he chooses to torture me instead of simply leaving.

Randy

Public Stigma and Reasons for Hiding

I speak often of the depression I suffer from. Sometimes it is in graphically descriptive terms as many of my posts are and other times it is plainly as this post is shaping up to be. I recently went very public to friends and family with the problems I experience with depression.

That was a very large mistake. Instead of being able to be more open I have had to hide more. I cannot use phrases like help, sick, hospital, or state that I am not feeling well without a paranoid lets call in the nice young men in little white coats reaction. Frankly I am considering moving, changing my name, severing the support system I thought was in place (turns on those I relied on were worse than those that I ran from), and going somewhere so big no one will know me or care as I slowly degrade and bring myself back up again. This is because I am the only one who can, help would be nice, someone to talk to would be nice but not worth the fallout of being honest with people close to you.

When I began this I talked about when to call an ambulance and when not to. Unfortunately no one seemed to listen lol. Let me rephrase what I said at the beginning, unless I am bleeding out don’t call the ambulance. Calling can, will, and did ruin my life.

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Please Excuse My Rant

I am extremely disappointed in a variety of things lately. It amazes me that things like depression, suicide, and agoraphobia are still miss understood. Recently I was dragged from my home, handcuffed (not the good kind of handcuffed) and thrown into a mental facility. All for saying something that I was actually feeling. It seems I am too fucked up to talk to someone professional about what I go through every day.

I spent 48 hours staring at puke brown walls and listening to other people’s problems. Basically I was the therapist and a patient. Considering the staffing and the fear of expressing actual feelings to them overrides the ability to get help. Once you are in everything that you say can and will be used against you to make you stay in a horrid situation longer. All of this from simply seeking help for an overwhelming situation. If my life was not bad enough before this it is horrid now. Everyone I care about now looks at me as if I am crazy which admittedly I am but most of the time I am functionally crazy.

I like things that most people don’t, I mix pleasure and pain readily. I enjoy strange things and have a really hard time controlling basic impulses. I love it all there are very few things that I won’t try. My life was screwed before and all this did was ruin my relationships with my friends and family. I know I am not making sense but remember when I said there are times to call the ambulance and there are times not to. Well calling the police and being taken to a hospital in handcuffs is enough to destroy your life.

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I Want – an ongoing story

Although writing is nothing new to me I only indulge in playing with fiction once in a while. Please please tell me what you think about the beginning I would really like a critique.

I wanted to say that it would be ok and that you were going to be just fine as I had so many times before. You looked so scared, sad, and alone. I wanted reach up and brush the hair out of your eyes. I knew it would only slip back down again but at least I could feel the silken strands between my fingers and I always loved that feeling.

I wanted to say that there was nothing to fear that it was safe, that you would be safe but looking in to those beautiful blue pools, whose black centers almost took over. They were wide and one could dive into one of those pools and wind up sinking into the inky darkness that was your pupil. The cerulean iris, just a ring around obsidian, you were scared.

I wanted to say not for me, never be scared for me, but I was too busy drowning to speak. Your strong arms grip me loosely as if I am made of thinly blown glass that would shatter in your hands.

I wanted to say don’t worry about breaking me, I was already shattered into a thousand pieces before heaven and hell and certainly before now. Something broken, something that cannot be put back together, no matter how much you try.

I wanted to say that I was still here, despite the fact that my arms fell limply to the side like broken tree limbs. Only your arm around me was keeping me from lying in the ever spread red pool underneath me. I vaguely wondered what it was my brain to tired to realize what it actually was.

I wanted to say I would be warm as long as you kept holding me. I would never get cold with you wrapped around me one arm around my back holding me up and the other cradled behind my head. You were desperately trying to evaluate the damage and still hold me close.

I wanted to say that I appreciated that just like I appreciate all that you do for me. I wanted to shake my head at that moment as my heart that normally beats only for you was no longer beating in time with yours. God how I wanted to close my eyes and turn my head if only to escape the pain in your eyes.

I wanted to say that none of this was your fault despite the fact that I knew you blamed yourself for it and would for a very long time. I wanted to hold you as close as you were holding me. Your tears sliding track across your dirt streaked face only to slide down mine as you rested your forehead against my forehead like we did when we were kids. To anyone outside it may have looked like we were both crying but for some reason I wasn’t.

I wanted to say I loved you

I wanted to say run as the thing that brought this all on crept up behind you. I wanted to scream it as it lowered its deadly horn and casually lined it up with your heart. I wanted to push you out of the way I wanted to do anything to stop this but…

On the Edge of a Blade

My eyes slip closed and my head slips back with a soft thump against the concrete wall. I keep my eyes closed knowing all to well what I will see it is what my body feels right now. I want to open my mouth and say something, anything. I begin to make a sound and his large calloused hand clamps over my mouth sealing it. He leans in close to me, his breath warm against my ear and whisper “Don’t make a sound.” As if I could my mind reels the oxygen deprivation quickly becoming apparent. The bulge against my thigh grows a bit bigger as he rubs it against me. I shiver excitement and fear warring in my brain. I am certain that he can feel my heart pound through the thin t-shirt that I have on. The slowly moves off of my mouth and nose giving me a split second to gasp precious oxygen.

While I am still gasping for breath a forearm is slammed into my throat pinning me to the concrete wall behind me. The rough brick pushes painfully into my back and the forearm is crushing my ability to breath. The pressure of it keeps me pinned on the tips of my toes. If I don’t strain to touch the ground my feet would be off the floor and I would hang there in his grip choking. I feel him fumbling with something between us and realize suddenly that he is unbuckling his belt and trousers. His other hand reaches completely up under my skirt. I gasp as his rough fingers brush my over sensitive lips. He tilts his head up to look at me raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“Expecting someone?” He whispers so close to my ear that it is all I can do to not to lean into him. I shake my head my eyes going wide because I went without panties on a dare from a friend. His hand roams across my bare ass and gently caresses the folds of my lips, teasing me. I arch my back trying to get more contact between me and his had, my fear fading as quickly it began. He cupped his hand and slowly curled one finger against the most sensitive part of me. I turn my head away pushing my cheek against the brick at this violation and that my body is responding to it so enthusiastically. His newly freed cock twitches in excitement as it slides against my bare thigh. The silky and smooth skin makes me shudder in what could only be termed anticipation. I lean my head back pushing my body closer to that silken warmth. My eyes flutter closed as his fingers trace lazy circles around my clit making me want to scream, I barely notice a flash of sliver on the edge of my vision.

Screaming Infinity, It was Bound to Happen

What is the next rush? When is the next time? When will I feel like this again? I sit and wait for it knowing that the next rush is right around the corner. I am trapped lately though. Stuck on the merry go round that just won’t stop and let me off. The cats chase the horses round and round until the spinning goes to my head and my eyes roll back. I doubt there is someone who can actually make my eyes roll back in my head but it is good to dream and it is the only time that I feel absolute freedom and hope.

I am not sure if I am tired because I am pushing myself or if I push myself because I am tired and hurts so bad that I can’t scream once because I will never stop. The truth is I guess I am just tired. I want to know that the things that I believe in are real but there is no proof. I don’t want to say that I won’t take anything on faith but I know too many people suffering right now. I know to many people screaming for death or screaming for life to take things on simple faith.

I explained the problem with me once before and I don’t think they quite got it. I am not right, there is something about me that screams when I try to be normal. When I don’t scream it drives me mad. “Down the rabbit hole Alice” A large part of me is dying slowly while the rest of me just hasn’t caught up yet. I could love but am no longer sure what that is in some ways I don’t think I ever did. The ones who I loved are all gone now and I am by myself in a house filled with people. If their kind of love is what brought me to this point then I am not sure I want to know what love is.

Ever see what is going to happen before it does?

Remember the blog post on things that cannot be unseen… yeah I live in that dark and sweaty world. It is extremely disconcerting because there is nothing that is comfortable about a juxapostian.

Just When You Thought it Could Not Get Worse

It was my idea and half way through it I found myself thinking that if I didn’t already plan on not surviving in the same form I am now I probably would take myself to the nearest highest bridge and jump off. I remember when he loved me and wanted to be around me. That is what makes it so horrible it would be different if I couldn’t remember or if it wasn’t so clear. I shouldn’t have gone there, I shouldn’t have sat there talking pouring my heart out to a person made of black glass just barely see through. I just didn’t realize that it would hurt so much. It is as if at any moment I am going to look down and I will have ripped out my own still beating heart from my chest. I can almost feel the slickness of the blood that still seems to pour out of it. I did this to myself and I can’t undo it. Before I get labeled an emo chick who is screaming whoa is me what I am talking about isn’t the teenage angst that is felt because of hormones but is no less real.

I thought that people stuck by each other when they loved one another. I thought if someone hurt a person you cared about you defended them. There was a time not so long ago that I would have stepped in front of a train to save the one life that I valued above all others and for some stupid reason I thought he felt the same about me. I feel deeper than most people. Feel stronger and bond tighter to those close to me.

When all of this started I thought that he would be there for me as I was for him every time he needed me. I did not expect what happened. Now as I sit alone as usual contemplating what went wrong I realize that the embedded carnival glass is moving under my skin again. It writhes and twitches like a living thing that wants out. For all I know it is alive and is willing to do what it can to break free of its prison just as I would be willing to do almost anything to break free of mine. Almost every avenue I have out is blocked. The last one came today when I found out the person I counted on the most had friends that hated me. With each passing thought the feeling gets worse.

You know the feeling that you feel when you just want to be home with your back against the wall tucked into a corner, just waiting? Just waiting to let out everything you’ve taken in that day. Feeling both desperate and relieved because nothing is wrong but nothing is right either, you are just so tired, tired of being nothing, tired of everything and you just want someone to tell you that it is ok. But no one is going to you know that from years of being kicked when you are down because no one can fix you. Tired of wanting tired of fixing yourself and everyone around you. Just once you want it to be simple to be helped to be saved but you know that’s not going to happen?

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Ok So I am a bit more fucked up than normal

Rule number 1 Always have an exit strategy

Rule number 2 When you start to make your self think that you are crazy you probably are

Rule number 3 When you can no longer cope use the exit strategy

When pain outweighs the ability to cope then it is time not stop struggling to cope

When you want to scream scream. when you want to cry cry you know where this is heading I really am not sure that I am going to survive this.

What I want

I make it no secret that I will eventually die either by a situation I have put myself in or by my own hand. I do not want anyone to misunderstand this fact. It is not that I dislike life (I do but that is besides the point) its that I dislike living it.

It is not fair that people who want to live die and people who want to die live. Another one of god’s strange ironies I guess like the platypus or opossum. I don’t expect anyone to read the crazed rantings of what rattles around in that empty head of mine. Maybe someone will discover this and realize that it is ok. Its ok to feel like this and not hate yourself for it. Heck if you feel like this you already have enough reason to hate yourself you don’t need any more.

People may ask why I haven’t done it yet. I have often pondered that question when I slide a razor slowly across my skin wishing it were a lovers caress. Watching the red blood tickle its way down my arm trying to tantalize me into making the deeper, feeling more blood sliding down with a soft plink on the tile floor. I listen carefully enraptured by the feeling and the sound of blood slowly draining from my body. The blood caresses my flesh making me shiver and my eyes roll back just for a moment. God it would feel wonderful and decadent. But there are not that many people left in my world and the darkness is closing in.

I wish I could lose myself in the feeling. Let it be the only thing I feel, close off all my other senses to the blade, the blood, and the feel of it. I can feel your warm body beside me, behind me pushing me back against your bare chest. My head lulls against your shoulder surrendering myself to the sensation of the cold metal and your warmth. I can feel each cut, each time the blade slips inside my skin, the ultimate penetration. Not enough to kill be enough to feel it when we fuck later. The sex after is always desperate and frantic (at least for me) I am not sure if I am proving that I am alive or wanting you to plunge the knife deeper so that you can revel in the feel of my life, my blood pour out onto your flesh. Please

On the Edge

As I curl in my living prison watching the leaves that shielded me all day I realize that it is happening again. The reason why I live my life in this desolate land of twisted images and all things sharp and dangerous. Sometimes I am ok and can peak out into the world, the real world. It usually isn’t long before the mask slams down over my features forcing a smile that never quite reaches my eyes. My frayed and fractured world is safe behind the walls inside me.

Most of the time I can function in both worlds, the one of pain and pleasure, and the real one with the people in it. Then there are times that I can’t. I can feel it happening like something blooming deep inside my chest. I can feel the darkness spread seeping through the organs and bone more efficient than the spread of the most aggressive cancer and the darkness is twice as deadly.

This is not new. This is not different. This does not change. I can only hide from it for so long before I start to slip. This is just the beginning. I know it will get worse, I know how bad it will hurt, and I know what my body will scream for. I always hope it won’t come back, always hope that it is gone for good, and I can hide in my world letting the architects of this existence build their strange constructs.

People say that it will pass, and that I shouldn’t think about it. These phrases along with cheer up make me wonder what the person saying it looks like without skin or better yet choking on their own tongue.

The question that is always asked is “Are you homicidal or Suicidal?” I have always wondered what would happen if I grinned at the person asking and answered with the truth “Both.” Something in my eyes always keeps them from asking – it also keeps the people close to me from pushing me too far for fear of me snapping which one day will happen.

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