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cyranoIt's way too late, I'm still up, and I'm going to be a very sad puppy in a couple of hours when the alarm goes off. Still feeling sore, and got that clutching pain in my chest again. But I am more concerned for Mei's back right now. If you're reading this, I'll say that I think you should see a Heather if it continues for much longer.
I got to play Feng Shui and Fweeps tonight, both of which were very fun.
I was forced to take a look at the self-destructive urge lurking inside me again recently. I didn't like it much. Part of me wants me dead, or at best it considers me not worth the effort to keep alive. I'm getting better, despite what appearances say. But some days, when I'm sore and cold and tired and frustrated, that part of me wins a battle. The worst part is that I might not even notice when it does.
When I rode CalTrain every day, there would be times when I'd sit on the platform and contemplate the track and think of how easy it would be to let myself fall into the trench as one of the express trains whipped through. I wouldn't even have to throw myself in, just stop trying to hold myself up and let my body drop. It never went beyond the realm of consideration and fancy, but after the fact it would still leave me shaken at the cool and analytical fashion in which I had considered the act. Like it was a hypothetical situation with a total stranger I hadn't seen and would never see.
Back in Corvallis, there was a two month period (...or was it longer? Time did funny things at that point) where the entire world became amazingly not-real. Like I could reach out and put my hand through parts of it--buildings, people, whatever--without resistance. Increasingly, I became an isolated observer, the only member of the audience in a cinema watching a movie. It reminded me about the fairy tale of the midwife who got a dollop of mystic goo in her eye while birthing a Fairy noble's child and could suddenly see Arcadia and the fairy world through that eye. Except that I didn't have any world to go to, I was just being quietly shuffled off the one I was in. It was probably Autumn, because I remember a lot of fog and maybe rain.
I don't know if those two phenomena are related. I don't even know if I'm making sense. I'm just talking and hoping my chest hurts less so I can go to sleep. Maybe a little alcohol--it's a muscle relaxant.
I got to play Feng Shui and Fweeps tonight, both of which were very fun.
I was forced to take a look at the self-destructive urge lurking inside me again recently. I didn't like it much. Part of me wants me dead, or at best it considers me not worth the effort to keep alive. I'm getting better, despite what appearances say. But some days, when I'm sore and cold and tired and frustrated, that part of me wins a battle. The worst part is that I might not even notice when it does.
When I rode CalTrain every day, there would be times when I'd sit on the platform and contemplate the track and think of how easy it would be to let myself fall into the trench as one of the express trains whipped through. I wouldn't even have to throw myself in, just stop trying to hold myself up and let my body drop. It never went beyond the realm of consideration and fancy, but after the fact it would still leave me shaken at the cool and analytical fashion in which I had considered the act. Like it was a hypothetical situation with a total stranger I hadn't seen and would never see.
Back in Corvallis, there was a two month period (...or was it longer? Time did funny things at that point) where the entire world became amazingly not-real. Like I could reach out and put my hand through parts of it--buildings, people, whatever--without resistance. Increasingly, I became an isolated observer, the only member of the audience in a cinema watching a movie. It reminded me about the fairy tale of the midwife who got a dollop of mystic goo in her eye while birthing a Fairy noble's child and could suddenly see Arcadia and the fairy world through that eye. Except that I didn't have any world to go to, I was just being quietly shuffled off the one I was in. It was probably Autumn, because I remember a lot of fog and maybe rain.
I don't know if those two phenomena are related. I don't even know if I'm making sense. I'm just talking and hoping my chest hurts less so I can go to sleep. Maybe a little alcohol--it's a muscle relaxant.
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Re: What she said
Date: 2001-12-20 08:20 pm (UTC)In real life, the thought of downsiding and sliding across the asphalt on the delicate ball joint of my knee until the cartilege wears away is pretty dissuading.
Annihilation is one thing. Pain sucks.