So Dawn Goes Down To Day

A very intelligent poet, Robert Frost, wrote a succinct but poignant poem called "Nothing Gold Can Stay". In 8 short lines he summed up the essence of being human. 

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to lead,

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day

Nothing gold can stay.

I've been dwelling on all the contradictions of life, the necessities that "life" (within the  Canadian middle class) has thrust upon me. The cliche garbage about social status, life accomplishments, the unspoken metrics of "satisfaction". How they require me to abandon questions in lieu of heuristical answers, soundbites. Classification overtakes exploration. But what is worth it? What is value? I don't know. Maybe nothing is. Maybe I don't want there to be answers. Perhaps I prefer the freedom to be nihilistic. That the ability to shoot down ideology safeguards my narcissistic individualism. 

But maybe I find that any answer inherently and unfairly excludes groups of people in favour of personal self-justification. I have a suspicion that every answer, including the rejection of an answer, is merely a rationalization of a worldview synthesized through self-preservation. There is so much grief in this world that even the thought of focusing on my own life feels like pure, unbridled, insanity. While psychology pushes people back into cultural conformity, into a hierarchical worldview that exists to justify the greed of the few. The greed of us. 

Maybe the fact that nothing gold can stay is a savior. Saving us from having to stare unblinkingly at what we really are. 

Regardless, there is a fantastic song inspired by Robert Frost that fleshes out some of his themes.

Stay Gold- First Aid Kit  It's worth listening to. 

In Shallow Seas We Sail

I've been confronted by important notions about forgetting recently, which connects to ideas in the novel I read over Christmas that discusses the necessity to forget in order to heal. But it places one in a peculiar situation when you are the one that needs to be forgotten. Or rather, you are the one that has been forgotten.

Our memories are the crux of who we are, how we remember (read: interpret) the past controls who we are in the present. We build upon the structural foundation of the identity we've decided upon (though our options are more like multiple choice questions to the situations we encounter, with the options being the different cultural maps [perspectives] we've been handed, with no real limit to our decisions but the limits we accept). But what happens when the crux of me (of all of us) is meant to be temporary, meant to be malleable for the future (read: present) in order for us to adapt, to cope; destroying, rebuilding, and re-destroying ourselves perpetually.

Why hold onto any past? Because without it we become apathetic and callous to the people around us, to the people who hold onto some piece of us in the vain belief they know the reality of our perceptions and past. We hold onto the past that taught us how to be safe when trouble comes, using our personal maps. Maps that are filled with landmarks and metropolises in a land of fantasy, personal fantasy. None of these places exist, but they tells us what "truth" is. But there's a difference between being able to discuss the civilizations of our past when there are others to confirm the old architecture and the disasters that shattered them in the first place then when confronted with wandering through the wreckage in solitude; a fertile land, turned into a wasteland. Or was it always a wasteland? The present too will become a wasteland. And once we forget it, it will be nothing.

Like us, individuals in a system that specifically needs the individuals it created. But tightly clutching our maps, needing them to feel, but binding us to the ever shifting images on the page. Finding meaning in the forgotten ruins; the ruins that don't exist, which cannot be visited by anyone who wasn't there to see them with us (or who have a completely different picture of the same places). But they need to forget seeing them, they need to look to their own map, while I look at the crumbling piece of paper in front of me.

We will be forgotten, eventually by everyone; until we are the only ones who hold onto a meaningless map, full of directions to treasures that don't exist to anyone else. And only the lucky ones even make it to this stage, when we can see the futility of our maps, the rest die before getting to that point, and are forgotten even sooner. But being remembered has no value. The value is in the temporary landmarks, on the constantly changing landscape. Just because the strings become visible does not change the power they have over us.

This may be incomprehensible garbage, but it too will be forgotten.

I know I've posted this before, but it's relevant.

The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them-- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried when you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for the want of a teller but for the want of an understanding ear.
-Stephen king

Gotta Knock A Little Harder

I was reading TheLastPsychiatrist at work today and I came across a perfect paragraph:

"Words are always and forever beautiful lies, the enemies of logic, when you hear them you should run away, seal your ears with wax or drown them out with a lyre's song, lest you be seduced to your death;  they don't tempt your body, they tempt your spirit, and no one can resist them." -TLP

There are two sides to why I love this quote so much, first is because of the poetry, not necessarily flow, but it expresses this over-the-top romantic idealism of Shakespeare. Referencing things like "lyres", using words like "lest, seal, wax" or metaphors "enemies of logic". But it is the culmination of all these elements which is perfected by the exaggeration: "forever beautiful lies". It's so meaningless. It's the type of line I'd find in a grade 9 kid's bad poetry book. I love "meaningful" things, but I can still laugh at them even if I completely understand them, I'm not insulting doing dramatic emotional expression, hell, I did that. But in retrospect I still can laugh at my, sometimes, overly-dramatic teenage emotions.

And yet, it also conveys a philosophical truth about communication. Words are symbols used to express concrete objects or abstract ideas. But because everyone person has a slightly different connotation to every word, especially for abstract ideas like emotions that require introspection. But, I think everyone knows that feeling of ambiguity about our own feelings or opinions. Our understanding of our self is flawed, and then we try to put that flawed understanding into words, and these words are interpreted by another person who has different heuristics. And then bang, not a single word is true, it's just impossible. But we believe we have the truth, and yet we are ignorant of our ignorance: the worst blockage to growth. For the person cannot grow if they do not recognize a weakness. They are all forever lies. Beautiful if we let them bring us joy, which they do. 

It's both a ridiculous exaggeration while remaining a fundamental 'truth' about communication. Efficient and intelligent. Perfect.

edit: 100th post. 

The Words Have Gone, But The Meaning Will Never Disappear

So I haven't been writing frequently, which is good. I'm back because of a song, well, poem really. I want to remember this poem in the future when I look back here. The song is called Lovers' Carvings and I love how the lack of punctuation allows for different readings ever so slightly, and I love how the poem manages to communicate such universal feelings of love and loss without overwhelming one side (aka it was neither depressing nor cheesy).

Lovers' Carvings
Lovers' names, carved in walls
Overlap, start to merge
Some of them underneath
Maybe they appear
In graveyards
Maybe they fade away
Weathered and overgrown
Time has told
Meaningful hidden words
Suddenly appear from the murk
Maybe they're telling us
That the end
Never was
Never will
The words have gone
But the meaning will never disappear
From the wall

It's a good chill song too - Lovers' Carvings- Bibio

But I prefer this remix, it's similar - Lovers' Carvings - Bibio (Bruno Be & Eddie M Remix)

I absolutely love the lines "The words have gone / But the meaning will never disappear". I have been reading a lot about psychology, psychiatry, and applicable medicine (SSRIs, anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers  etc.), and the one thing that constantly trumps medication is choice, not just an immediate choice, but habits, thought patterns. What we think about, how we think, what media we consume, who we interact with, our "identity" comes down to what we do. Research has shown that even the briefest glance at a picture will prime for a future association (about 93% in one study). This means that if we constantly occupy our time with thoughts and media of anger, resentment, fear, then these will prime our future interpretations of events which effects our behavior, what we consume and think change how we act. and you get to to choose what you dwell on.

This applies to the line because the majority of our thoughts, our actions, who we spend time with, who we've loved, who has hurt us, nearly everything, ever, becomes a part of our identity, but we get to choose how. Do you dwell on the pain? do you focus on growth and trust or harbor doubt and fear?

what it should say is:
The words have gone, but their meaning to us will never disappear

(it shouldn't actually say this, it would ruin the poetry, but for the point I'm trying to make it should)

Curbside Goodbye

I suppose it's time to once again blow the dust off this blog and use it to immortalize how shitty I feel. I understand that I've already filled pages upon pages with rants and frustrations. I know how futile this, but for some reason I am compelled to write more. I woke up this morning with an overarching feeling of uselessness. As if everything I strive for and everything that is important to me is merely the ravings of a lunatic.

Obviously, I wouldn't be writing unless I felt depressed, that's the purpose of this ol' blog. However, this time, I have nothing to reflect upon, nothing to improve. Spoiler alert: I got dumped. Summary: my personality is so shitty that anything short of a complete overhaul of my identity would have been futile. I didn't make any giant mistake, I JUST AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER. Everything she liked about me in the beginning are the reasons she didn't want to be with me anymore. And if there is a way to insult a person more than by saying you hate everything about their personality, someone post it in the comments. HAHA, the joke's on me, no one reads this or comments.

"Good", as I understand, is subjective and it's equally useless to try and live up to some criteria where all of a sudden your life magically changes. And, I understand that qualities in people are not polarized nor are they "correct". People have preferences about what they want in another person. Of course there are commonalities that are cited often (funny, smart, honest, blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah). But once again, even though people use the same word, everyone has a unique definition for what they mean when it's used.

For me, this is extremely frustrating because apparently I just fucking suck. And this isn't the first person to not want to date me because apparently my personality is garbage, and they both explicitly said it. I'm not sure why so much of my happiness and stability relies on woman. I've mentioned this before, but not that they do anything for me, just being in a relationship makes me more confident and happier about everything, always. Even when I purposefully was single I just felt like garbage all the time.

My relationships constantly end in disaster and it's my fault because I choose them and because I bring my own problems too. I don't hate myself, but when I date people different from me they hate me, and if I met someone who was like myself, I'd probably hate them.

I don't know if that last part is true. Actually, I don't know if any of this is true.

Fuck, this year turned around so quickly, such a happy start, looked promising. Goddamn I'm a miserable bastard.

Smoke and Mirrors

I don't like the fact that people refuse to understand themselves. They listen to whatever nonconscious influences they have developed without knowing where they came from or what function they have.

Some people get distant when confronted with conflict, others get emotional, or fearful, or abusive. All these behaviors are adaptive and do not represent reality, but merely the defense mechanisms they learned to use. Yet, people treat them as truth. This becomes particularly frustrating when people tell you what they think is truth, and they're not lying per se. But, because they don't understand themselves, they don't know that they have been lying until someone has already been devastated, be it someone who cares for them or themselves.

I am guilty of this before and I am dearly sorry for any and all pain that I have caused others. I have always worked diligently to know myself, I may not have been successful, but I did the best I can.

I have this sinking feeling that this concept is going to end up hurting me very much soon. I want to believe people, and I do, so when the truth surprises both parties I take the fall harder because I trust completely, essentially gambling. The worst part is that I'm probably creating problems that never used to exist. My insecurities are my self-destruction.

I may not be that different from other people, but I think I know what I don't know, which is a lot more than most people can say. Hopefully, it brings me closer to the truth (whatever that means). I'm just a chauffeur and a tag-along, and I guess that would be okay if other people acknowledged it. But they tell me lies of grandeur, and I don't appreciate my hopes being crushed, because I believe their siren songs, at least for a little while.

I might not understand all that I say, but I know that I mean it.

101 Dalmations

So this is the One hundred and first post, which I didn't realize last post. I guess that is in itself a cause to celebrate. I am surprised and happy that it has endured this long, but this is not the cause for my writing now.

I started dating lindsay a little more than a week ago (common knowledge) and it's going great. However, we were talking about our past shittiness and she felt that I had too many painful experiences with women. Not that I was super messed up or anything, just surprised at the volume. We kept talking and we (or I) came to the conclusion that I give everyone the benefit of the doubt at a detriment to my own emotional state. She was surprised by my vulnerability and said that, essentially, I had gotten hurt through my own choices and attitudes, that I should have adapted to prevent them.

She's right, but I like to pretend that this is caused by my unwavering commitment to providing everyone with the benefit of the doubt. This is probably not true, but it's what I tell myself, so it is true to me. I know it has shaped who I am today, for good or for bad. I do not regret my decisions, I am only trying to understand them, peace.

edit: 101st draft. not actually post. Woops.

Gone too Far to Turn it Back

I've come to hate reality. The truth did not unlock my shackles but instead mutilated the bindings. Understanding how people interact and, thus, how I interact, has put another reason for why I can blame myself. I know other's mental weaknesses, I know that they are controlled by their desires, biological tendencies, heuristics. I see the confirmation bias every second, yet I do not exploit this knowledge. Rather, I watch myself become stuck in the same ruts I've always been in while others fall prey to their bias (natural, cultural, biological, or whatever it may be).

I convince myself that my values are different from the standard weaknesses and biological tendencies. That one must become aware of their weaknesses so that they can overcome them, and then maybe they will see the value that I have (or think I have). I know that I can't say I'm 'better' than anyone else because everything is subjective. But I desperately want someone to have the same subjective values that I hold.

Yet I am weak, especially now, and would settle for any such comfort, no matter how temporary or fake. In the end, deception is not the determinant for right or wrong, contentment, empathy, helpfulness, charisma, leadership, intelligence. All these traits are valued, but whether they are honest is never questioned by others, nor does it matter to ourselves. People do not care if they have 'the best' girlfriend, or job, or anything, as long as they feel as if they do, they do. Subjective truth is the foundation of human psychology.

And now that I know this truth, I can never go back to before. Subjectively I would be wrong, willingly ignorant, something I refuse to be. Thus, everyone else can find contentment in their lies, but I have lost that ability.

Some days I miss being depressed and suicidal, it had more answers than disappointment. But just like before, subjectively, I can't go back anymore. I conquered self-destruction to become trapped in nihilism.

The Death of One Man is a Tragedy, the Death of Millions is a Statistic

So I just finished watching another Hollywood violence filled adrenaline pumping blockbuster and it got me thinking about how impersonal everyone has become (or naturally is). The film began with prisoners being let out of their cells and beating guards. However, it only showed above their torsos as they wailed on him, all the while a main character jokes from a distance.

I realized how many times I've seen some scene like this where people perpetrate insane brutality while breezing over the consequences. That guard would probably die from having his face beat into a pulp, yet the movie kept rolling without ever stopping to think about this man's well-being, let alone his pain, or dreams, or family, or all those things we like to pretend 'bad guys' don't have.

I'm not surprised by this movie as it's a known psychological phenomena that people of 'out-groups' are perceived as carbon copied sub-humans. However, the problem arises when any other person can be placed into an out-group at will. Culture classifies people into race, nationality, language, accent, religion, class, job...... all the way down to hair colour (think 'gingers').

Don't get me wrong, most of the time people don't classify everyone else and beat them horrendously, but the problem arises because we can if we want to. If we need to dehumanize other people to maintain our own self-worth we will. People have been accustomed to dividing everything into polar opposites when the stakes get high (right/wrong, ally/enemy)

These habits of dehumanization and polarization become apparent when people start to get hurt, namely in relationships. I've been on the receiving end of this method before, when people fight or things no longer are going as well as before people stop treating people with the basic dignity they deserve. Yet, ask the perpetrators how they feel and usually (not always) their hurtful actions make them dislike the person they hurt even more. Person A (the perpetrator) has two options, either they themselves are terrible people or person B deserves it. Thus, they choose the second option and feel great about themselves while hating person B even more, causing a self-inducing destructive cycle.

This is where these classifications come in, if we can easily turn anyone into a member of an out-group then the slowly escalating cycle of hate begins. Now I will link this into the digital age of impersonal communication. Take a look at any forum to see how faceless individuals treat each other. Things like ignoring texts, or phone calls has become socially acceptable (if slightly frowned upon), ignoring others' dignity has become a matter of convenience. Slowly we are beginning to classify everyone else as faceless and inhuman whenever the need arises.

And it scares the living shit out of me.

Ain't That A Bitch

I guess the most important and pertinent thing I've learned in a long time is the affect of illusions on mental stability. Particularly, the fact that illusions (specifically relational) ones increase mental stability. This was not only shocking, but completely personality changing because I always strived for the marriage of truth and happiness.

I always assumed if I found ultimate truth I would find happiness as well. However, I have learned that truth is different. Finding complete and absolute truth IS NOT happiness. "Happy" belongs to self-deception and LIES. Truth is misery, truth is uncomfortable.

People need to lie to themselves, people need to pretend that falseness is truth or else we cannot exist in an ideal situation.

Now I know why truth never brought me happiness. I was never meant to be happy, I was meant to be honest. Woe to me. I've begun to think that maybe I could live my life alone. After reading these studies I'm positive that I can, even if I don't want to. I can accept the truth, even if I hate it.

The Shield of Achilles

So Matt posted this excellent song (Bartholomew - The Silent Comedy), but one paragraph explains my ultimate decision to dedicate myself to understanding myself and then others. Essentially it is the reason for being in Psychology now, enough build up, here it is.

I rambled with the worst of them
fell in love with a harlequin
Saw the darkest hearts of men
And I saw myself staring back again and I saw myself staring back again.

When I first went through my troubles and what-not I had always seen myself as an exception to the norm, but as I continued to live and learn about others I realized how typical my experience was (or a more extreme version). I was just another person among a multitude and the more I learned about the "crazy" people the more I saw parts of myself in everyone and vice versa. I am no longer surprised by anyone's actions, ever. Murder, empathy, sacrifice, suicide, all are within every person, it just takes a certain type of circumstances to bring them to light. The more I try and type out my reasoning the less sense it makes. It sounded better in my head.

Anyway, another thing that fits with this theme is an extremely famous and popular quote by Nietzsche that I'll leave off with. Enjoy, or become frightened, your choice.

"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you"

The Colossus

I think I found a song which encapsulates part of the last post's song. So last time I briefly talked about being someone you don't like or doing things you disagree with. The song chalks it up to circumstance, but as all things in life, they are never that simple.

Anyways, so this song seems to capture the concept of external, hurtful circumstance in relation to internal naivety which exacerbates the problem.

Rumored Nights - The Academy Is...

I walked you home most days
To beat the traffic after class
With all my best intentions
But when the weather changed
Like fine print, you were hard to read
Blindfolded, eyes wide open
Staring through me...

I never heard the words that were spoken
Witht the rumored nights, with the rendezvous
I never thought the whispers were true till now...

I saw things that I shouldn't have tonight, tonight
I know now what I couldn't have
I've gone too far to turn it back
I've gone too far to turn it back

Followed you home halfway
Over the fence to your backyard
With all my best intenetions
And through your window frame
Outstretched and lying on your bed
Blindfolded, eyes wide open
Staring though me...

I never heard the words that were spoken
With the rumored nights, with the rendezvous
I'll never look at you like I used to now...

I saw things that I shouldn't have tonight, tonight
I know now what I couldn't have
I've gone too far to turn it back
I've gone too far to turn it back

Uninvited, no one knows
How much I care, how bad you are
How good we'd be, but you won't let me in
Goodnight, I'm leaving

I never heard the words that were spoken
With the rumored nights, with the rendezvous
I never thought the whispers were true till now...

I saw things that I shouldn't have tonight, tonight
I know now what I couldn't have
I've gone too far to turn it back
I've gone too far to turn it back

I walked you home most days
I had the best intentions
I walked you home most days
I had the best intentions
I walked you home most days...

I like the idea of a single event completely altering the main character's perspective. Change, especially personality change, is obviously more complex than single events. However, I love the poetic simplicity it presents, and it fits with how people remember (or at least re-tell) important moments in their life. Even when I look back at defining moments of my character and things that shaped who I am now I like to simplify complex stories into single evenings and events in my memory.

I know that it's not that simple, but it is nice to pretend even for a moment that everything was external circumstance, that despite the 'best intentions' disaster was inevitable. The worst part is how necessary it all was, I don't have the luxury to look back and wish things had happened differently because I despise who I was and who I could have become.

These questions become increasingly important when we have to rationalize future disasters. Will we look back in regret or relief that what happened changed us? That is, considering who I am now, when I change into someone (thing) else will I be glad I'm different (like how I view my past now) or will I futility wish to return?

As with how I reacted before, I will probably once again bask in my 'new found' wisdom while criticizing the ignorance of the past. This brings up its own set up questions, for example, am I really better now or do I just rationalize my current scenario to prevent myself from being frozen in regret? Is there any real change occurring or is it an elaborate self-illusion to keep myself functioning?

Rumored Nights

I've been listening to a lot of music while I write my plethora of papers, specifically the the softer and more relaxed songs that don't interrupt my thoughts but help the time pass. So I'm writing about just world beliefs and the damage they cause how we relate to others and society, but the paradoxical quality of them because they are necessary to maintain an internal locus of control which is related to mental health and efficacy. Basically damned if you, damned if you don't.

Anyways, so a song came on that I have heard many times but I guess I never payed a lot of attention to the themes of the song because all of a sudden it grabbed my attention and I realized it expressed a lot of ideas that I believe but have trouble putting into words sometimes.

Believe me -Seabird

I try to keep up, I swear that I do.
But every time I look up I lose site of you.
I never wanted to be the way that I am,
But it's not my fault, it's just my circumstance.

Chorus
Believe me, believe me when I say,
I never wanted it this way. Believe me when I say,
I always tried to do my best. I gotta get this off my chest.

I wanted to be just where you are
Cause you're a beacon of light that awakens the stars.
I see you holding a fire, deep in your heart,
I know I'm not the one but I'll play the part.

Chorus

Someday soon, I'll be alright again.
I pray you've not forgot. Someday you will see the light again,
And find all that you've lost.

Chorus

Especially if you listen to song itself the mood of the song is very somber but hopeful. I really like the idea of regretting actions and their consequences but knowing that the decisions are necessary. Likewise with the psychological paradox about just world beliefs. It's the idea that sometimes we don't like who we are or what we do, but we still have to be that person or do that action. We don't want what's happening but we don't get to make that decision, only what to do next.

Someday soon we'll be alright again.

Take a Look and See for Yourself What Makes a Man a Man

Megan came back for the night. So we went to her house for a couple drinks before everyone went to the bar. I had a couple drinks early on and was having a great time with a couple people, but as more important people arrive I always feel in the background, even when I'm involved in the conversations. So I decided to stop drinking as it would just lead to a night of sadness and drive people where they wanted to go.

Ended up having long conversations about video games with Mroz and Boots at Cam's house, which will do, but it's not what I want. Although I have constant thoughts of inferiority I'm thoroughly convinced I posses some sort of value. This is only a logical perspective, based upon my perceived abilities and how I relate to people, I think I'm proficient at being "social" or "liked". Yet, the results of such evenings are always the opposite of my prior observations.

So what's off? My self-awareness? My applied interaction? Something isn't working like it should, as the cause isn't correlating with the effect. I'm trying to figure it out but for many years I've felt like something is a little bit off, and after attempts and successes at improving so many different aspects of myself the most basic of problems still persist.

I leave off with a quote from Paradise Lost, by John Milton, Book IV

Context: Satan has just reached Eden and is reflecting upon himself

Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand?
Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,
But Heav’ns free Love dealt equally to all?
Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.

There and Back Again

Disclaimer: I wrote this between 2-4 am. I am tired, but sober. I know it is too long to read. I don't even think I meant for it to be read, I just started typing without logical flow or progression, I just needed these thoughts to come out.

Not much has been happening, but I thought it had been long enough since an update. That's another thing I noticed about my older posts, they were too scattered and didn't have a solid time line, sometimes months would go by, probably because I felt like I was merely repeating myself over and over again. But that's okay because an accurate but annoying blog is better than a distorted interesting one, especially when I'm the only one that cares. So I hope to do once a week minimum.

In place of present events, I think I'll do a recap. You know how every show has one episode where it repeats everything for people who missed the beginning? Well, this is my version. Don't flatter yourself though, because this isn't for you. Writing things lets me re-analyse them, maybe find some more answers.

Anyhow,

I feel a bit better this past week, or maybe past couple days, I don't keep tight watch of these kind of things, I just know I didn't come ranting to the blog, so that's a good sign, I guess. Just letting it out, putting it somewhere else, anywhere else, is helpful. I'm not even concerned if no one reads it, or worse, that no one cares. I've always been accustomed to relying on only myself, hiding from or pushing others away to protect myself.

It started with not trusting either of my parents, caught between two people who care only about hurting each other isn't a very trusting or stable place to try and become a mentally stable individual. My mom was too busy preoccupied with trying to find a new man and being angry at my dad, while my dad lived thousands of kilometers away. So I learned to hide whatever I wanted inside without needing anyone else, or so I thought. It was more like acid eating away at me from the inside, thinking I was safe and protected from enemies while my insides burned to ashes.

It was here that I taught myself horrible coping mechanisms, there was so much hurt that I had no idea how to get rid of. When I was around 14 the poison started to affect me a lot. All I thought about was dying because I had not even the faintest clue how to function any other way, and there was no way I was going to continue living like that. I spent a lot of time listening to "emo" music because I wasn't able to put my feelings into words, I had thrown them deep inside, somewhere even I couldn't see at the time. So instead they manifested into moping, depression, thoughts of self-mutilation, desperation, but I refused to get real help and was convinced I wasn't different compared to others. That my childhood was normal and I was just like everyone else, therefore I was sad because I was missing something that other's had. That it was a problem that could be fixed by changing something in my external life.

I put a significant amount of hope into girls, that they were the cure to the mysterious disease that ravaged my mind. Unfortunately, in my current state I only attracted girls who were equally messed up, and commenced a three year roller coaster that was filled with dysfunction, obsession, control, manipulation, just two messed up teens. It distracted me because I was able to put 100% of my focus into trying to fix her, I could pretend I was healthy, simply because I had no obvious symptoms.

Not to bad mouth or blame her. I was passive, secretive, I enabled her. I learned a great deal about others but also she forced me to look into myself despite my heavy resistance. I started realizing that maybe I wasn't as normal as I wanted to be, that what happened had shaped me in very significant ways that aren't typical, especially for a child. After three years with her I began to strengthen and find my own footing, but the lessons were few and didn't prepare me for the future.

The breakup was confusing and I avoided dealing with it as much as possible, telling myself and everyone that it had no effect on me, that I had come to a logical conclusion and there could be no pain once I had that. Just like before I let the pain slowly poison me instead of safely disposing of it. I had only been hiding from the pain before her, and losing the distraction forced the pain from before to comeback, but with three years worth of interest, plus this new pain from the breakup. I had put the most time into her and although had some other friends, relied mostly on my socialization from her.

On top of that I had just graduated High School and lost touch with a lot of "friends" who I thought I was close to. Despite my texts and calls and trying to plan things, they just didn't want me in their life, so I lost everyone I could talk to. Meanwhile, I took a year off and started a new job at J&H.

These days were absolutely unbearable, everyday was hopeless. I thought about dying every second, but managed to paint this great smile on my face constantly. I began self-mutilation, and it was the best coping mechanism for instant happiness. Bruises and blood would send a rush of endorphins, for seconds I was fixed. And like any drug, you get desensitized to it, so I had to do it more frequently and more intense to keep the suicide at bay. I wasn't ready and didn't have a clear plan or note ready, so I fought them off as best I could, which meant this physical manifestation. All my hurt was internal, and it felt fake if it was merely my thoughts, so I made sure it became real on the outside as well.

Here, 6 months after ending the last relationship, I had become involved in another broken girl, this time from work. The infamous Cassie, the main reason this blog started. She was 2 1/2 years younger and had a worse childhood than I had and I thought she was at a mental stage that I used to be at. I tried my best to help her, because I thought I could, and she made me feel that I was.

She didn't spend the time I needed to trust her and I was also insecure about losing her, she had become my only reason to live, and although the depression and mutilation continued, it was getting better, I was improving, and not just hiding for once. I became attached very quickly, and very intensely. She would say things that made me so confident, so happy. ("When I think about my future I can only imagine myself with you" QUOTE) she wrote me pages after page of love letters, expressing her hope for us and opening up to me. Yet, my subconscious was always uneasy about her because her words and actions never quite aligned, something always felt wrong. But spending time with her made me the happiest I have ever been (past and present), and so I swept my worries under the rug.

Unfortunately, she was more important to me than anything else on the planet, including my well-being, even my life. If I thought killing myself would have made her life better, I would have done it in a second. A fucking scary thought now that I look back on it. But I was irrational. I lost my job, got a new one that sucked a lot. I could feel her pulling away and it scared the living hell out of me, to the point where one day I knew she was intentionally avoiding me, which made me snap.

I abused the hell out of myself and was terribly hurt, I can't find words to describe the feeling but it was worse than anything I had felt, which was pretty nuts. I didn't know what to do, I needed her, I told her I was going to end it. I wasn't 100% serious but I needed to see her, be comforted by her that if she wasn't going to respond to this then there was nothing else.

She responded by confirming my fears, the ones I convinced myself I had over-analysed, that I thought were only my insecurities causing me to doubt. She broke up with me via a text message, then called the cops to my house. The indescribable pain that I felt earlier that day became more intense. I ceased functioning for most of the day, lying under my blankets in the fetal position for hours, breathing 150 breaths a minute with a heartbeat probably over 130 (I'm usually about 80) for hours (speculation, of course). I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything, I had already hurt myself earlier and it didn't help, I was paralyzed. About three hours after breaking up I asked if she still loved me (because she had told me she did before, and I believed it). She said that she did. It gave me enough hope to not die, at least for now.

And then the cops showed up, while my mom and Dave were home, they checked my wrists but I was more creative than that. It was my chest that was torn to shreds, and they didn't find those marks. So I wasn't forced into the psychiatric ward because I denied the accusations. But my whole facade was broken, my mom, who had never known anything about me, now knew about my depression.

I finally forced myself to move, to get up from the bed. I ate a little food, I tried calling everyone I could trust, I needed to see someone else, to protect me from myself, to help me somehow, just make sure I wasn't alone that night. But they were all busy. Later I would find out that all my friends (close and drinking buddies) all went to a movie together and hung out that night, and no one informed me or invited me, they were "just busy" even when I asked about their plans. This hurt too, and I made sure to never need someone else ever again.

I spent that night like before, frozen, I couldn't think straight, everything was fuzzy, I couldn't sleep, time was as slow, I had entire theoretical conversations in between seconds. My gut was super angry from hurting so much. I got a call from one of her friends who proceeded to yell at me for making her cry. I tried to defend myself but I cared more for her not hurting than me dying, so I took the blame that I deserved.

All her friends and sister formed a tight protective circle to prevent me from talking to her. Despite me being in a much more fragile state, no one cared that I had wanted to commit suicide, only that me saying it hurt her.

Over the next months we texted, mostly her texting me. She kept giving me hope that we'd get back together and that it was her family and friends preventing it.

QUOTE

Owen- "I know I'll be okay, and I know that you'll be okay. What I fear, is that we won't okay."

Cassie- "I think we will be okay."

Unbeknownst to me, she had started dating the friend who had called me that night to yell at me. And she had done this two weeks after breaking up with me, despite leading me on more than a month later. I was doing counselling and had lost my new job, replacing it with a really good one that I kept till next fall when I started school.

My days had become manic, some days I would be hopeful and I was working through my problems. Most days I would think about her all day, super frustrated, there were a lot of mini-dramas with her, some of which are documented in the early posts. I had a multitude of questions that had no logical answers, to this day I never received any, but I don't need them anymore.

Therapy stopped working, one psychologist even said I didn't need it anymore, but I knew he was wrong. Despite my mood I had learned a lot of things and resolved to never need anyone again. I would always enjoy other people, but I narrowed my emotional range. I can't feel extra hurt and I won't hurt myself or even consider suicide anymore, but I also can't be as happy. The best way to describe it is becoming numb. Not entirely, but a significant amount.

For 6-7 months after breaking up she continued to text me, there were giant lulls sometimes, but frequent periods too. I had given up hope a while ago, but the wounds never went away. She talked to me about her boyfriend, about problems she was having, my advice on things. I gave her money when her friend ran out of food once (or so she said), about $400. She said she'd pay me back, I didn't expect it, and never got it anything.

While I was out of town at a family reunion she drunk called and texted me from 3am about how she was super drunk and getting some meth. This sent me back into a panic, I still cared about her extremely, and spent an hour trying to call her and talk her out of it, find details, and maybe find someone to help. I was utterly helpless, and it killed me. If I had been in Saskatoon I would have driven and found her because she gave me a location, but I couldn't and it hurt.

Fast forward a week or so, one night I was feeling depressed again and was drunk at a random bar far from home. In a moment of extreme bad judgment I called her, she was driving around thinking, so she picked me up. We talked, more like me being a belligerent, drunken idiot. I didn't get any answers out of her and even jumped out of her car trying to prove a point (can't remember why). My knee still has the scar from that brilliant decision. The conversation was a waste of time but I felt that I had been "strong" or something during it, I felt better.

Or so I thought, 15 minutes later I get a call from her friend saying they were outside where I was and wanted to talk to me. So it's her best friend and her boyfriend (phone call guy). They say that Cassie had told them that I had been hitting her, and that I tried to kill myself by jumping out of her car (not true) and that cops had searched her car (they stopped her cuz I was urinating publicly, but just gave me a warning)

I was really drunk and tried to deny things, but they wouldn't believe me and I started believing them, that I had actually done these things. Her friend started hitting me while her boyfriend watched. I think he wanted to seriously shit stomp me (he easily could), but we were in public, and my humiliation was enough to satisfy them. They eventually left after her friend's yelling and hitting started to get noticed. I tried telling them about the drunk calls, and her texts, that she had told me she was doing meth. That I'm not trying to hurt her, that I never would, but no one listened. Caring about her made me the enemy.

That was the last night I talked to her or any of her friends. For the next 8 months I felt like shit, sleep was very hard to acquire, depression was everywhere, surrounding me, but I refused to give in. I drank a lot, and alcohol made me a slobbering mess, I think I got a reputation for being psychotic from my friends, but it didn't bother me, I had felt things that they couldn't even begin to fathom, I had been places many people never go even for a life time. I was smarter and more experienced and although I was still broken, I was stronger. I did a little bit of mutilation, not much, just once or twice, but learned to easily control it. I slowly repaired myself and strengthened my resolve to never need anyone ever again.

I met Hannah out of the blue again, I had known her in high school. And we hit it off right away. I won't go into details but I kept growing, refused to hide from my past. I felt very confident and very stable around her. My recent post described what happened well enough. My growth has been exponential and despite taking a long while to get it going I have changed a lot for the better during the time I was with her. I still have my moments of weakness, see every post in the last month. But they are just moments, and I continue my journey upwards. Even though it still hurts some days, I am not afraid to stare into the abyss.

Now I know I don't need anyone.

Bruised

I keep asking myself if I made the right decision. Hannah and I had a lot of good times together and I enjoyed spending time with her.

Without a doubt I am less happy without her, and the days go slower and my mind wanders to the worst parts of my mind. I was 100% stable and positive and "normal" when we were going out, and it's probably exactly where I should be. I felt really confident and great.

I also find it hard to find someone who is attracted to me. Let alone who will also put up with my chaotic history that pervades my subconsciousness. I spent a long time, in this blog especially, talking about how happy I would be when I found someone after Cassie. And then I somehow came to the conclusion that I should go back to being alone, and I hate being alone. Well, that's not what I thought would happen but it's what ended up happening.

I thought that my confidence and self-esteem would continue, that I would be able to make some serious improvements that had to be made alone. Things that I couldn't do with anyone else. I also don't know enough about people, and I wanted to be a part of others' happiness, and their sadness too, just understand more people and learn more from first hand experience. It had nothing to do with wanting other people or not wanting her, I know I wasn't ready for what I had. But instead, I sit alone and write here.

I guess part of me was afraid to open up to her completely because the 50% that I had shown had hurt her, so I left the other 50% stay hidden, and it didn't allow us to grow together because I had to protect her from myself. I think she will be better off without me, maybe not immediately, but she'll find someone who is ready and who never had any psychosis, I think she will be happy.

Also, I've always been a fanatic of improving and growing, and I felt like I was stagnating. I wasn't ready to stay who I was/am and I guess I needed to go back to pain and failure if I was to continue at all.

Do i miss her? Of course I miss someone to hold and someone who cares about me. but I think this is where I need to be.

I have such a low opinion of myself, and I know this is self-defeating. But when I compare myself to others, although I have a lot of good qualities, I see a lot of gigantic warning signs that would keep people away from me, some major deal breakers.

Although the whole of this song doesn't really fit me or anything, these two lines from the chorus, I feel, ring true.

Jack's Mannequin: Bruised

I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this:

Like every inch of me is bruised

And my greatest fear is that I'm right. That I am too crazy, too bruised, and that eventually everyone will notice that I'm not quite like them.

Revisted

So I just spent the last hour re-reading every post I've written, and listening to all the songs I posted. There are a couple things that I noticed this time around.

1. My spelling was garbage, so many typos and mistakes, it's embarrassing

2. I've changed so much in my outlook and how I respond to things, I'm surprised by who I've become

3. I filter my words a lot more than I think, I remember exactly how terrible those days felt, but reading them doesn't come to close to expressing the true emotions.

4. Posting song lyrics instead of writing real words was stupid. Sure I still love music and relate to it, but it's a media used to express my message, not a message in it's own right. I think I was too afraid of what people would think if I wrote my real thoughts, because I felt suicidal and destructive, and I acted on it to an extent. You'd never know that through those posts though.

Many may notice the time, and wonder if I'm drunk. I'm not, I'm just lonely and feeling a little sad. I'm not feeling like I want to. I'm not the person I thought I'd be, I think I've failed my years of attempted growth.

I'm smarter, I'm stronger, I'm more resilient, I'm calmer, I have more self-control. But I don't feel different enough. Sure all the little things have improved, but I'm not sure the important parts have. Maybe I'm just being melodramatic in a moment of weakness?

The other night's dream was obviously about Cassie if anyone didn't get that, I didn't want to say it at the time because I feel foolish that she still shows up in my dreams to hurt me. Even though I have no control over that kind of thing, I still blame myself. In fact I blame myself for a lot of things, I don't know how else to function.

Sometimes, I wish I could just purge my insides, clean out the anger, the disappointment, the blame, just cry, and feel ok with who I am and what's going on around me. That I don't need to always improve things. But I can't, this self-perpetuating pain only hardens my features, these scars remind me of the price I paid, to never forget.

Absolving the past would require making peace with it, and I don't think I can ever feel peace for what happened and who was involved. The lessons I learned cost me blood, and I'll be damned if I ever let them fade away.

Mroz's bday

So we went out to James' then to Winston's for Matt's 21st. Josh and Megan came down for the weekend and its nice to see them. For no particular reason I just wasn't feeling into hanging out in Winston's. Either go to a bar and actually party, or stay in James' and hangout and talk, going somewhere just to pay more and make it inconvenient to get home doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I guess more people showed up that wouldn't have come to James', so it makes sense, I just wouldn't have done it.

I was about to walk home just before 10 but they noticed me leaving and offered to give me a ride, which I couldn't refuse. I don't seem to enjoy large table discussions unless I'm in a good mood. When I'm feeling crappy I prefer a 1 or 2 people to talk to instead. So I caught a ride home with the first driver, Britt, which turned out better than expected.

I did a lot of talking and I was happy to have a listener for the first time in a while. And, despite the conversation not breaking through any problems, she reminded me that some questions don't have answers, and expecting or wanting them is futile. If I can manage to control my thoughts a little more I hopefully I can solve the sleeping problem.

I guess the biggest take-away was to not let my first thoughts and instincts to control anything, because mine are self-defeating. I have a choice how I react but I was allowing myself to float along.

Hopefully I take these reminders seriously and that they stick, unlike the last time I learned them.

Cheap Shots

I expect someone to get to know me a lot more before judging me. More then a week, more then 4 conversations. I think once I show my real self to someone, most people will like that. I know I make bad first impressions and come off too strong or strange sometimes. I try not to, I attempt at normality, I'm not normal nor do I want to be normal, but I'm not as far off as I sometimes give the impression to.

I have a strong set of values, and goals, and so much that just takes a long time to understand. I didn't develop who I am through simple ways, it's been long and complex and mostly just really shitty. And I want someone to hear the stories, to try and understand the logic, the actions, the consequences.

Some days I feel like I'm wearing thin, the cogs have been grinding, the wear and tear of this life starts to show some days

rant rant rant rant rant

So I guess I'm here writing again, well this is kind of awkward to say the least...

I mean I haven't really been very faithful to the blog, and it's comparable to that friend you only talk to on rare occasions, and they think you're using them. But you're not, because when the shit goes down they're the only person you call, even if you don't see them very often. But you feel bad for using them only in need. Yet you appreciate them more then 90% of the friends you see everyday.

That's this blog.

Anyhow, onto buisness, I wouldn't be writing in here unless there was something up, right?

Right.

I don't really know where to start: Obvious generalization seems like a good place:
I'm still sad.

K, now that that's out of the way let's move on to deeper thoughts into it and different possible reasons on a given day: K, sounds good.

I'm trapped in a self-perpetuating death spiral of guilt, plus I'm a pessimist. But more on that later.

CassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassieCassie

WHAT THE F IS WRONG WITH YOU OWEN!?!?!

I've got some guesses, but nothing good enough to explain why it still hurts. I must be just straight f-ed. I mean, let's look at the facts:
1. Havent seen, heard, ANYTHING about her for 3 months
2. Got dumped 8 months ago
3. She only used me for the 5 month period after dumping me
4. Despite all my best efforts to help her escalating substance problems, she didn't give a fuck
5. She's probably still dating the "love of her life", who she basically dumped me for. But it's clear he doesn't actually give a flying fuck.
6. I am all "growed" up, and these are trivial adolescent angsts that happen to immature high schoolers.
7. I believe in a God that not only protects me, but has a specific plan for me.

that's just off the top of my head. Of course there are more reasons I could name, but I'm tired of that list.

I went back home last month when Mitch was sick as most of you know. When I was there i reread old love letters from her (ya, I know)..

It's not that it made me see anything new or rekindled old feelings. I've thought about her at least once a day, EVERYDAY..... Sometimes its a 5 minute moment of weakness. Sometimes its 3 hours during the day. And sometimes it keeps me from sleep all night long.

Mostly, I think it's because that this past year was obviously my shittiest year to date. And in the middle of the shittiness is when I met her. And even though I messed up a bunch early on. She didn't let that stop a relationship (albeit, a short one) from growing. And she still appreciated me, for being me. Right up until the end, and everything since then doesn't make sense to me, but whatever.

I guess it's the fact that I always feel a constant pressure to perform "Up to potential" "To norms", etc etc... I know I have good potential and shit. But when I fall down, I don't care about the future, or about what other people think. I just don't want a crushing feeling of being alone and for being wrong for feeling that way. Which is what I feel day to day.

I guess it's why I feel so sad about the whole happenings. It was the first time that I could mess up, and still feel wanted. Which is one thing that makes me sad, another is I still believe it's my fault she's gone. Which means I, myself, am responsible for losing my favourite feeling of all time. And that sure as hell makes me feel worse.

So in short, A past mistake, that probably didn't even affect the eventual outcome of the relationship. Makes me take all responsibility for losing a girl, who, obviously, didn't really love me. Yet it brings me down to my knees daily.
Self-diagnoses says that I'm pretty much as crazy as I, personally could get. There is so much wrong with that story. But I can't break it. And deep down, I'm not sure I want to.

I mean, I want to be happy, and with the right person, whoever that might be, I'm not still trying to go back. But it feels impossible and almost wrong to do it alone. I've always moved on by "changing targets" so to speak. But when there's no prospects, I lose hope fast and my thoughts always drift back to her.

I bet that if i found someone new, I would instantly stop thinking about Cassie. I just don't have a future I can look into, it's all hypothetical with no evidence or potentials of it actually happening. So I look back

Then there's the issue of since her. NOTHING. I am incapable of attracting someone. Which then makes me question if there's anything that would attract a girl inside me. And a lot of the times I come to a flat "no" conclusion.

Sure I want t

People all around me say things like "Why would a girl want you how you are right now?? Depressed, uncaring about life, timid, shy, introverted. You have to change and become better first"
FUCK...... THAT!!

Ok, maybe I don't disagree 100%, but to a point. I just want to be appreciated and WANTED for what I have to offer right now. I want to make someone happy. I want to feel close, and needed, not just another aimless person.

A lot of me doesn't want to become better without finding someone. Because I would never know if they liked me, or if they liked my abilities, my potential, my skills. But not me.

And if that ever happened, I don't know if I could deal with it when the lie was finally exposed.

I've always wanted this "person". Even back to elementary school. And when I had opportunities. I took them, I developed. I wanted to become someone who was "a good boyfriend". I busted my ass trying to become that sort of person. But not because it was forced. I WANT to be that person.

The most satisfying compliment I hope to get is "A good husband and father"... I guess that's the bottom line

And if I was able to be happy without being on the path to achieving that. It would have to mean that it lost some of its importance. And that's something I CANNOT let happen, no matter the cost.