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Jun. 7th, 2012

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

(no subject)

I wish I was immortal, so I could slit my jugular over and over again and commit suicide a thousand times, for all the times I should have done it in the past.

May. 19th, 2012


Day 2

Negative/Depressive/Anxious Feelings Experienced Today:

- I will always be alone. Now, more than ever, I know no one can be trusted.
- The idea of being around people who are happy repels me. I don't want to contaminate their happiness with my sorrow.
- No one is ever going to hire someone like me. They can see right through me. They can see I'm broken.
- My heart was beating very fast for about an hour today. Meditation did not seem to help the first time.
- I'm not going to be able to move on. I don''t have any hope left.
- I have no purpose, no motivation, no creative imagination left inside me.
- I cannot sleep for longer than 4 hours at a time. I wake up wide awake. This tortures me.
- Everyone who talks to me has an ulterior motive. All they want to do is fuck me. They don't care about who I am.

I didn't do much of anything today. I was in pain for much of the day, but that's just an excuse. I can work when I'm in pain. I'm depressed. I don't care about the pile of clothes in my car, or the clutter in my room. I don't want to talk to my family, they have nothing of worth to say to me, and I have nothing of worth to say to them. I feel guilt and embarrassment, because the only person I want to talk to is the one who forced me out. I miss him, and I feel foolish for it. I hate being alone, but I'd rather be alone than be with people who just don't fucking get it. I'm not prepared or willing to fake happiness for them, and I'm tired of doing it. I've been doing it all my life. It's bullshit, it expends my energy, and I'm done with it.

I smoke too much, I drink too much, I take too much xanax. 1.5 mg no longer affects me. The meditation exercises are helping, gradually, but now instead of anxiety, I feel a deep, aching emptiness. I think I preferred the anger. Progress in my self therapy is not going fast enough for me. At this rate, I'll kill myself before lesson one is over. Pathetic.

I can only think of one other person with whom I want to spend my time, and that is an impossibility. No point even thinking about it.

I ruined my life, and putting it back together seems like too much for me to accomplish. I just want to go comatose for a few years.

May. 18th, 2012

Kori Fierce

Self-Therapy: Lesson One

Limitations Caused by Anxiety:

- I cannot be alone comfortably, I feel a great sense of unease and loneliness, sometimes panic.
- I am sometimes unable to go out in public, for fear of many different things... people looking at me, judging me, that I'll have a panic attack, that I'll be embarrassed in some way.
- I avoid socializing, for fear of being embarrassed, not knowing what to say, feeling foolish, being rejected, being judged, being disliked, having a panic attack and not being able to escape the situation, etc.
- I am often unable to make decisions, for fear that I will be wrong, and then I will feel extreme guilt and worry. I repeatedly contemplate whigh option would be best and end up doing nothing because it's "safer." 
- I can't have a job, much for the same reasons I listed above. Fear of failure is the most powerful, fear of rejectio, fear of confrontation, fear of doing everything wrong, fear of being fired, fear of interacting with others.
- I don't even have hobbies anymore, because if I fail or I make a mistake (with painting or drawing, for example), I will punish myself over and over in my mind for being "worthless" and untalented.
-I can't drive long distances or fly - when I do, I have panic attacks, I feel restless, I can't relax, I fear that I will die in the case of flying, I feel claustrophobic in a car, I feel trapped, I fear having a panic attack and not being able to escape. I fear dying in a plane crash.
- I can't end relationships, because I deeply fear being alone, which is when most of my panic attacks occur.
- I can't even see my friends sometimes, for fear of them judging me, rejecting me, not knowing what to say, or ruining the moment.
- I definitely can't speak in front of people, due to fear of rejection, forgetting what I wanted to say, that awful quiet in the air while I'm talking, judging me, looking at me, feeling stupid, them THINKING I'm stupid.
- I often don't take my medication, because it might cause me to have a panic attack, or kill me in my sleep.
- I'm even afraid to FALL asleep, I'm not sure exactly why... I think it's the loss of control. And, oddly enough, I'm afraid that, if I try to fall asleep, that I won't be able to, and that would mean that I'm doomed to never sleep again.
- I fear dying, but I think that is more of an existential and philosophical issue. I don't know for sure what is going to happen to me. My family believes that there is existence after death, but there's no proof. I'm afraid of not being conscious, of not being able to hear my own thoughts. If death is non-existence, then I would be unable to think. 

Depression Assessment:

Physical/Physcological Symptoms: 27 - Severe Degree of Depression
Personal Satisfaction: 24 - Severe Lacking in Personal Satisfaction
(Ha. I could have told you THAT.)

This program suggests that I take antidepressants, but if aprt of having an anxiety disorder is FEAR of taking medication, how the fuck do they expect me to do that? Considering that I've been on almost every SSRI and SNRI known to man, I don't think I'll be doing that. KTHX.

I asked my parents for an elliptical for my birthday.... they have some pretty cheap ones on amazon.com.... so I've got the exercise thing taken care of.

"Wish List"
If my anxiety and depression were not holding me back, I would be able to....

- Be alone in my own company, and enjoy things on my own without the need of someone else there with me.
- I'd be able to go out and do things alone or with friends; go to museums, art shows, concerts, hiking, road trips, the zoo.... and not have to worry about having a panic episode or any of the other silly things I obsess over.
- I'd be able to meet new people without feeling panic, I would be comfortable and confident, the uneasiness would be gone. I'd be able to open up to people and talk about generally unimportant things, something with which I seem to have trouble.
- I would be able to make decisions without obsessing and worrying and going over every single detail over and over.... and then, be able to accept that decision, and not beat myself up and feel extreme guilt IF I fail.
- I'd be able to have a job, and not make anxiety-related mistakes very often. I'd be able to interact comfortably with people I don't know.
- I'd be able to travel, visit friends and family, see the world eventually.

I guess I have to read a motivational book. Gah, I really dislike those kinds of literature, if you can even call them that. Half of them are a scam, and the other half are asinine and trite. Oh well. "Power of Now" seems pretty decent, if I can get myself to concentrate on it.

Well, that was time-consuming. Hopefully it will be worth it.

May. 16th, 2012

House of Flying Daggers

Farewell, torn from my heart

I don't know what to say. I know I need to say or do something, but I feel immobilized. This is beyond strange. In the past, when severe trauma occurs in my life, I usually react emotionally. I sob uncontrollably, I try to commit suicide, I feel extreme desolation, anger, hatred, sorrow.... and I did feel those things last night, for a time. But I woke up today and felt.... nothing. Nothing. This is not in my character. Maybe this is what he feels like when he dissociates. Maybe I am finally getting what I have always desired - the ability to kill my feelings. I cannot say that it is a pleasant feeling, because.... I don't feel anything about it. My lack of feelings, I mean. Through out the day, I've had brief moments of what I can only describe as absolute insanity, which alarmed me a bit.... I don't know how to describe it accurately. My thoughts were disorganized, I was trying to grasp at strands of coherent thought and felt them slipping through the fingers of my mind. Strange. 
I don't dream anymore. I've said this before. But, last night, while I was fucked up on morphine and wine, I fell asleep and had a very vivid and unwelcome dream. I had all of these images of us together, touching each other, my fingers running gently down his neck, beginning to flash in my mind, and then I woke up instantly. Wide awake, shaking, cold and hot at the same time. It is cruel, that I should have to suffer such agony and torment while I am awake, only to have my dreams taunt and toture me as well. Thank god for seroquel. To wake up alone, after sleeping next to the person you are in love with for so long, is to wake up from a nightmare into a nightmare. A nightmare that will never end.
I can't stop thinking about how he discarded me. Used me and dumped me, like trash. And I allowed it to happen. I didn't listen to my mother, who has always been right about every person I've loved, and I didn't listen to my past experience, my gut instincts. Everyone told me he was bad for me, that he preyed upon vulnerable women who just wanted to be loved. Everyone except Matt, who probably didn't give a shit who I was with. But I saw past his callous exterior and loved him anyway. I saw the person he could be and chose to love him. Robert. The real one, not the face that he showed to the world.
If there's anything I've learned in my young, yet somehow long and chaotic life, it's that love will never be enough. And there is no point in wishing that it was not so. 
I hate remembering, I hate these images flashing in my mind, strobing out of control. Seeing him for the first time, wishing I could be with him. Him holding me in the pool at his apartment. The first time I told him I loved him. All the cold nights we shared on his balcony. The feel of his lips against mine, how they would stick together ever so gently when we finally pulled apart. How I was finally able to sleep again, next to the warmth of his body. Having small but exciting adventures in the park. Breaking into that hotel... or was it something else? Doesn't matter. He took pictures of Ashlynn there. Then he fucked her. I would do well to remember that. 
The curls in his hair. One brown eye, one green. Every night that he helped me fall asleep with his words and his touch. The softness of his skin. How he touched me with what I thought was love. How he complimented me with what I thought was adoration and admiration. That's why I trusted him when he said he loved me. That's why I believed him when he said he wanted me with him. Now I know.... I was just convenient. Convenient sex, convenient company, convenient mobility. He never thought I was worthy of his love. Maybe I never did, either. But I dreamt of a life together.... where we both were happy, and healthy, and fulfilled in each other. I even imagined what our children could have been like. Dreams are poison.
I'm tired of this. How could he have the audacity to ask me not to kill myself, after treating me like I meant less than nothing to him in the end? No.... that can't be true. He must have loved me. He cried. He never cries. I'll always remember that. And I'll always remember how coldly he told me to get out. He threw away the greatest love. And he'll forget. They always forget. I never will.
I answered the phone today. That was strange. I never answer the phone. It was a bill collector. That is....monumental, I suppose. I was calm and polite, although depressed. I'm actually, in a strange way, proud of myself for doing so. Before, I had always ignored them, or asked Matt to talk to them. I'm not sure what to make of this. She cajoled me like a little child. What a bitch. I was even compassioante and understanding with her, and she treated me like I was 10 years old. God..... I don't know if I'll ever stop hating all these fucking assholes. Oh well. Maybe this means that I'm stronger. Or maybe it means that I truly do not give a fuck about anything, anymore. I hope for the latter, for that means that I can have a swift death, and succumb to true and final peace.
It was always too late. Always has been, always will be... too late.
As soon as I can, I'm leaving here. I can't be here anymore. Maybe, in some place beautiful and green and new, I'll be able to forget that I once believed in true love, with him.
I know, beneath all this suffering, only one thing for sure. I loved him. I worshipped him. I gave all of myself, and now I have nothing. I may hate him later, or never. But I want him to be happy, because I am NOT TOXIC. I am loving, and compassionate, and understanding, and I refuse to let his treatment of me turn me into a monster. Not again. Not EVER AGAIN. I will never forget how he caused me to believe in love again.... but now I am more broken than before, and I have nothing, nothing at all left to give. And I will always love and miss him. There will always be a hole, an emptiness in my heart where I carved out a place for him to live.
And I won't do it again. I will dream of it, and maybe even wish for it, but I will never let this happen to me again.

May. 13th, 2012

Sad Kori

Introspection and Evaluation

If I'm going to make this work, I have to be more introspective than I ever have been before, and that's frightening to me. It intimidates me because I am naturally introspective as it is, and to look even deeper into my psyche than I already have is a terrible prospect. Still, it must be done.

My jealousy is out of control and I don't know why. Not yet. I almost never felt jealousy when I was with my husband, because I knew, without a doubt, that I was the center of his universe. He loved me so completely, for years. I never saw him even glance at another woman. We had comfortable discussions about what actresses we found attractive and which we did not. I'm sure my bisexual tendencies contributed to the comfort of those discussions, but I was never able to do that with anyone in the past. I was comfortable because I knew, then anyway, that he would never cheat on me. I trusted him completely, which says a lot for me because I have serious trust issues. And where do those issues come from anyway? 

From the people I've dated: The first man I ever fell in love with was Sparlin. I loved him in a young and immature fashion, but it was all-consuming and intoxicating. I was 12 or 13 - far too young to date, in retrospect. I was too young to understand the fact that people are not often satisfied with what they have. I was in complete bliss, just to know I was loved. I had low self-esteem, and I was insecure. Maybe moreso than I am now. But I loved him, completely. So much so that I forgave him, over and over again, for cheating on me and betraying me. With my friends, with our mutual friends, with people I don't even know about. I clinged to him desperately, partly because I loved him, and partly because I couldn't stand the thought of being without him, despite what he had done. He took advantage of me in more ways than one - I wasn't ready to have sex, but I felt forced into it, so that I could keep him, maybe make him love me more. I realize now how foolish I was. Eventually I came to forgive him, even before he came to me, years later, and genuinely and truly expressed his remorse and regret. I don't think I ever forgave myself. 

This went on for 3-4 years, I can't remember exactly how long because I've blocked many of the events from memory. After Sparlin, I entertained several other men's attentions, because I craved it. Needed it to feel valid, not worthless, to feel human. It was all fruitless and empty, looking back now. And the effects of such attentions never lasted for long. It was like being addicted to drugs - the fix is temporary, and after it's gone you need it even more than before. After the damage that had been done by my relationship with Sparlin, I felt distrust and bitterness building up inside of me, something I had never felt before. I had an online relationship with someone far older than me, and eventually he couldn't stand to talk to me anymore. I don't remember why, due to my memory gaps.... I can only conclude that the ghosts of previous relationships had contaminated my outlook on everything. I tried to make amends years later, but he wanted nothing to do with me. The pain of knowing that I was that unbearable almost broke me. Maybe it did, in a way.

As a freshman in high school, I rebounded by dating a senior. I honestly don't remember what happened between us, but I do remember him blaming me for his suffering and pain, and cutting himself in class. I tried to help him, but he woulddn't listen to or acknowledge me. The gaps in my memory disturb me.... I don't remember if this relationship made me happy, or sad. All I remember is his claim that I ruined his life. Maybe I did, but it doesn't seem possible. Then again, being that I can't remember anything from that relationship, maybe it's true. I never spoke to or saw him again after that. 

I was lonely and lost when I started seeing Joe, in high school. I think.... I think I agreed to date him out of pity. Hormones had a great deal to do with it too. By then I was ready for sexual encounters and things of that sort, fucked up though my mindset was due to the Sparlin incident. He consistently lied to me, about the most ridiculous things. I know why he did it - he was as insecure as I was, just wanted to be loved, and it didn't matter by whom. Eventually, he became so possessive of me that he began to be aggressive towards me. He was very mentally unstable. When he grabbed my arm so hard that it left bruises, I told him it was over.... the one time I broke up with someone. He continued to torment me, told all my friends that I had cheated on him when I hadn't, tried to turn them againt me. Had me sent to in-school suspension when I tried to reason with him, ask him to stop telling lies about me. We also made ammends years later, for which I am grateful. I can easily forgive, if only it is requested.

Matt Johnson saved me, in a way, from the terrible relationships I'd had. I met him at work, he was a virgin and very sweet and innocent, the way I used to be. Maybe, in a way, I corrupted him. I didn't mean to, it was never my intention. He doted on me - bought me jewelry, took me on vacations, let me live with him in his aunt's house (which was the first time I had ever lived away from home. I was about 18 at the time.) For reasons I still don't understand, the things I loved about him dimmed in my eyes. Our relationship became boring to me, and I didn't want to communicate with him about it because I still loved him, and didn't want  to hurt him. When he was in pain, I experienced that pain as well. We had so many poignant, emotional experiences together..... but perhaps those memories are glamorized in my mind now. I was with Matt for 3-4 years, after maybe the second year is when I cheated on him. I had NO REASON for doing so, and he still doesn't know that I did. I have no intention of telling him, probably never will. I did it because I was bored, and a coworker had been seducing me ina way I had never experienced before - none of the "will you be my girlfriend?" kinds of innocent questions.... there was something deeply wrong and terribly appealing about how this man approached me, and I desired it. I hate myself for it now. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. It haunts me. I ended it, but by then our relationship was in disrepair. We argued, often. I moved out of his aunt's house because, frankly, I was no longer wanted there by his aunt for strange reasons I don't comprehend. We continued to date, but, perhaps because I had already cheated, I began checking Matt's e-mails, and found very incriminating evidence that indicated that he may have been cheating on me. I suffered terrible agony over this, even though I knew I deserved it. We agreed to try to make things work, because we still loved each other, but things were even worse. I had never before slapped or hurt anyone in my life, but every time I saw him, I felt such an unfamiliar rage building up inside of me that I couldn't control. I slapped him. I knew then that it had to end. And it did. I was not a violent person before then. 

I started doing drugs shortly after that, and immediately jumped into a relationship with a boy I barely knew - Benji. He seemed sweet, kind, compassionate.... I didn't realize, being naive as I was to the drug world, that ecstasy can create a convincing effect of empathy and understanding. I felt more lost and alone than I ever had in my entire life... I just wanted to make it go away, to force it out so far from me that it could never come back. I thought, mistakenly, that being with Benji would somehow give me the fix I needed. And I did love him, in that absolutely insane, drug-addled way that people love each other. Snort a line, lay in emotionless peace together. Pop some pills, share emotional and exciting experiences. It was so good, for a time. I lived in a twisted neverland that I NEVER wanted to leave. Ever. I would have done anything to stay there. But we were kicked out of the raver house, and then things degraded from there. We got our own apartment, and then the fighting started. Became so painful and agonizing that I cannot clearly remember now everything that happened. He was addicted to porn, almost never wanted to fuck me. I'd never dealt with something like that before, ever. I reacted with that rage I felt when I slapped Matt, not physically but verbally. We antagonized each other. Eventually, he started to hurt me. Just a bit at a time - a slap here or there, and of course verbal abuse. Then, on a particularly bad day, he punched me in the face.... and I felt I was confronted with a split-second decision - I could continue to curl up in a corner in a fetal position and wait for it to stop, or I could fight back. And I decided, right then, that I wouldn't let him do this to me without a fight. So, I hit him back. It escalated from there. Abusing each other and then making up, snorting K to kill the pain, rolling to try to reignite the passion we once felt for each other.... it even came to the point where he and I were in such a desolate and hopeless place that we agreed to roll for one last time, and then kill ourselves. Obviously, it didn't work. But Benji tried it again, later, without me. We had to call emergency services and have him taken to the hospital. It was.....traumatic. Eventually, he ended it. I believe I had a psychotic break of some kind, because I slashed his seats, broke his phone, destroyed all his clothes, smashed his windshield in with a hand drill, and then tried to poison myself in front of his house by drinking engine oil. 

I descended even further into desolation after we parted, and then I met Matt, my husband. Unlike Benji, who pretended to be kind and selfless and understanding, Matt truly was. He understood the dark place in which I dwelled, and he chose to love me anyway. We did do drugs together, but it wasn't like it was with Benji. Matt never raised his voice to me, he always remained empathetic and compassionate. He even asked me to live with him shortly after we started dating....in retrospect, I think he did so because he was as lonely as I was. And I agreed, because I wanted to feel loved, because I didn't want to live at home and be alone, and because he truly loved me, even when we weren't fucked up. I know this without any doubt. But.... I don't think I loved him, in the beginning. I cared for him, I wanted for his happiness, but I had been driven too far into selfishness and despair to care about anything more than my own pain. I will forever regret misleading him that way, in the beginning. But I did come to love him as he was then, for all the wonderful and selfless qualities he possessed. They were real. But my anger never went away. My bitterness and agony subsided a bit, because I knew I was truly loved, and because I had drugs like K and meth to kill the feelings away, but beneath it all was a seething hatred. Hatred for life, for love and how it can be so easily taken away or discarded... for people, and how no one could ever be relied upon, including myself. I hated myself, because I so clearly saw that 

I had become the monsters that created me, the very things I loathed in others.

I don't know if I want to go through all the details of what happened, I'll make a long story short - Matt did everything for me. Everything. He made calls for me, he bought my drugs and food, he supported me. I had a great job, but I quit so that I could spend more time with him, and also because it was 40 miles away from Chandler. In a way, I gave up. I overdosed on acid and lost my mind temporarily, swore off drugs and then started doing them again months later. I couldn't let go of that twisted neverland in which I once had lived, the one time and place when I had actually felt FREE. Matt wanted to move on from that, have a normal and what I considered boring life, and I was not ready. When we moved away from Chandler, we lost our drug family, and I felt that loss keenly. I wanted it back, more than anything. That desire began to drive us apart. I thought about getting married because it seemed like the logical progression of things. I thought I had the perfect man, a man that had never lied or broken a promise, and never would. I was a fool. I became bored again, just like I did with Matt J. I cheated, I lied, and we fought all the time. Matt never hit me or abused me, although he did press me up against a wall with his forearm by my neck to keep me from hurting him. I abused him. I became a monster once again. I relied on him for everything. I gave up on having a normal life, because, frankly, I didn't want it. The prospect of it made me, for lack of a better word, suicidal. We wanted differen things, different ways of life. And then his physical problems and lack of money put a terrible strain on us, and my laziness, anxiety, fear, and depression contributed greatly. In the end, there were no more solutions. He changed. Maybe I changed him.

In all these relationships, I was often referred to as captivating, beautiful beyond words, something that could not be lived without. Magical. And, inevitably, I began to be described as toxic. Poisonous. Pure venom. Hateful. And I was. At the time, I wanted to be. I felt it was better to fight back in the only ways I knew how than to cry in a corner, mourning everything I had lost, hopeless and helpless and scared. After all of this, I became used to being this way, and now that I am trying to be the way I once was.... the way I was when I was with Sparlin - innocent and totally in love and trusting and hopeful and romantic - it's a daily struggle to remember what those things even felt like. I can no longer remember what it is to experience life with distrust, or hatred, or envy, or insecurity and fear. I cannot remember joy, or what it felt to be carefree. It is a loss too empty to share.

This has been a long enough entry for now. I have much more to evaluate and review, but that will come at another time. Besides, I doubt anyone is going to read this besides me. Most people don't have the patience, compassion, interest, or empathy to read something like this. Such is life.

Apr. 22nd, 2012



If there were a God, and he was merciful, he should obliterate me. No one should be allowed to suffer this way.

But, there is no God. There's no nirvana, no heaven, no other planes of existence.... only the Hell to which I've been condemned.

When I was hospitalized due to a temporary psychotic break because I took too much acid, I truly believed with all my being that I was in Hell. Even after I came back to the world of the "sane," I never truly let go of this idea niggling idea in the back of my mind - that I was still in Hell, condemned forever to watch, powerless, as my life was systematically decimated before my very eyes. Temporary moments of happiness allowed me respite from this idea by which I was plagued, but when that happiness was stripped away, I always came back to this idea. Everything I love, stripped away. The shadow of the axe hangs over every joy, every love.

If I was not a coward, I would end it now. But I am, and so I remain. I ruined everything I love, poisoned every person that loved me. And I know, in the end, I will have nothing and no one.

The real Hell is your life gone horribly, terribly, irreversibly wrong.... and you are the constructor of your own misery and demise.

I am in Hell.

Apr. 13th, 2012

Cloud and Aerith


It's time to admit to myself the things I already knew were true long ago. I loved Matt, but when I started falling for Jenn and Jay at the same time, shortly after getting engaged, I knew that I wasn't supposed to marry him. Someone who is TRULY happy with what they have rarely has a reason to desire love or fall for someone else. I've been this way all my young life - I fall for someone with all of my heart, all of my being.... and then I lose interest, and I cheat. I am not proud of this, in fact I think myself a monster for doing so. I hate that part of me, the greedy, sadistic, antagonistic Kori that revels in pain and vengence. The only relationship in which I did not sabotage my own happiness was when I was with Sparlin, the first person I ever loved. I was madly in love with him, in that young, immature, inexperienced way, and I was totally committed to him. I think my relationship with him, and how it progressed and finally ended, ruined any future relationships that I might have had. Now, I destroy the things that might make me happy, and I don't know why..... besides the fact that I'd rather be the destroyer than be the one who is destroyed - it hurts less that way. Or, at least that's what I tell myself.

I thought I was prepared for this, I thought I had accepted that the person my husband had been is now dead, and a new, hateful creature has taken his place. Why then do I feel so depressed over the matter? I'm getting divorced at age 26. I was married for only 2 years, and I was with him for a total of 5 years. Disgraceful. I wish I could stop remembering - all these memories are poison. They torment me. I feel totally alone - no one truly understands what I have gone through, what I am currently dealing with. Break ups are different than this - a divorce is concrete evidence that you failed to be what you were supposed to be, and that you are a quitter and a disgrace. I never should have gotten married.

Now I'm falling in love all over again like I promised myself I would never do, and if I let this get to me I could end up destroying a chance at real happiness with someone amazing and beautiful. Like the sun, he warms my being and when I turn my face to him I feel myself light up.... I almost feel like a real person again, not the monster that people and experiences in life have made me. But I am afraid, so terrified that I am too broken and damaged to be with anyone, afraid that I'm going to be manipulated as Ben did to me, or be betrayed and cheated on as Sparlin and Matt did, or that I'll simply become boring and useless, as I was to Matt J. and every other person I've been with. The pain of those hurts is too excruciating to bear - my husband abandoned me, left me here to move thousands of miles away. Am I really that repugnant? All I ever wanted was to be happy - is that so wrong?

I'm trying to teach myself to dissociate when I am deeply angered - my emotions are all-consuming, and they are ruining my life. I am, by nature, extreme, and I'd rather feel very little than feel all of this rage and sadness. I don't know if there will ever be a middle ground for me. I feel as though I can see the whole scope of my life, and all the people and experiences that have shaped who I am..... and it brings me great sadness to see and feel all of that at once. Memories blend together like watercolors, and I can still remember the voices of the people I loved, the sound of laughter and running water and eletronica echoing throughout my old house with Matt..... and sometimes it's all too much.

I suppose I am being selfish right now. Time to take my mind off of my own problems and go out to find something nice for someone I love, and enjoy the happiness I have while it is still here.

Mar. 13th, 2012

Tidus and Yuna

(no subject)

I have sworn away love and companionships so many times, I can no longer remember exactly how many.... Being in love, truly, desperately in love with someone can weaken me. Allow me to be broken. I think I've been broken enough. Considering what I've been through, which many people do not know about (or care to know), I'm constantly surprised at how empathetically I allow myself to forgive, to give second-chances, to love again. 
Trusting in people is the most difficult issue I have at this moment. Every kind, supportive, loving statement that has ever been made to me has been broken, or a lie, or inconstant. And, although I realize that change is the nature of life, I find myself perpetually searching for something stable. Something that will never change. I guess, for a long time, I wanted that thing to be love. Loyalty. Friendship. I was silly, and naive, to hope for such things.

And yet, even as I write these words, my heart is swelling with love, endearment, loyalty, and devotion. And I am so afraid. I am afraid of the end, of everything. These moments that we cherish - a kiss, an embrace, a look or a smile - they're beautiful beyond words while they're here.... but they're evil when they're gone. I cannot have everything, I know that. I just don't understand why life must be so unfair in this way....isn't there enough injustice and hatred and violence in this world, without having relationships turn out badly too? There has to be place in this world for me, otherwise I would not be here. 

I feel, sometimes, as though I cannot trust anyone. But I so desperately want someone reliable, someone to love, something stable. Can I dare to hope that I've found that? Should I risk the chance that I may end up more damaged than I was before? 

You know, it may not have been real to the people I loved in the rave scene. Maybe they never loved me at all, and it was all chemically-induced, or a charade. But it was NEVER that to me. I loved and still do love them all. I know it was real for me. I should be able to take solace in that fact - that the love and loytalty I felt was real. But somehow, it seems cheapened, knowing that it may never have been reciprocated. I am afraid to be hurt. I feel like I can see it coming, like I always do, and I am turning away from the truth to prolong temporary happiness. Maybe I'm not naive, maybe I am something much worse - a liar. To myself, anyway, which is the worst kind. 

I've been very emotional lately. It is difficult to keep under control. The smallest, most trivial things cause me to cry, I'm having serious self-esteem issues, and major anxiety attacks. I wish I could make it stop. I try to remain stoic, but it is a strain on me. Always holding in what I feel, what I think, the things I believe to be right or wrong. I'm just....so.....TIRED. My life seems hopeless. I'm desperate to connect, and I fear it at the same time. Some of my defenses are still in position, and I don't know if I want to lower them yet, or if I even could if I wanted to do so.

The plain fact of the matter is that I am so very much in love, and I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know how safe my heart is, and I don't know what can be done to make me feel safe about it. I used to be so different than I am now - giving love freely, openly, with no expectation of reciprocation. I was much easier to hurt back then, and although I still retain that sensitivity, at least I can defend against it now to a certain extent. 

I don't want to be just cut off and forgotten someday, like so many others have done to me so easily. It is a terrible blow to my sense of self-worth, and pretty much every other mental faculty I possess. 

Eh, I don't know why I'm talking about this. I'm not going to stop being in love until given a very good reason, and even then the wound will take years to truly heal in the event that I end up broken again. I guess I just needed to work these things out in a visible manner.

"Love... shall we deny it when it visits us... shall we not take what we are given."

Feb. 8th, 2012


(no subject)

Underlined and Italicized statements are Almost Always True. Underlined are only true Sometimes.

Denial patterns:

  • I have difficulty identifying what I am feeling.
  • I minimize, alter or deny how I truly feel.
  • I perceive myself as completely unselfish and dedicated to the well-being of others.
  • I lack empathy for the feelings and needs of others.
  • I label others with my negative traits.
  • I can take care of myself without any help from others. (Financially, this is untrue.)
  • I mask my pain in various ways such as anger, humor, or isolation.
  • I express negativity or aggression in indirect and passive ways.
  • I do not recognize the unavailability of those people to whom I am attracted.

Low self-esteem patterns:

  • I have difficulty making decisions.
  • I judge everything I think, say or do harshly, as never "good enough."
  • I am embarrassed to receive recognition and praise or gifts.
  • I do not ask others to meet my needs or desires.
  • I value others' approval of my thinking, feelings and behavior over my own.
  • I do not perceive myself as a lovable or worthwhile person.
  • I constantly seek recognition that I think I deserve.
  • I am jealous of the relationships between others I would like to have as my own.
  • I have difficulty admitting that I made a mistake.
  • I need to appear to be right in the eyes of others and will even lie to look good.
  • I perceive myself as superior to others.
  • I look to others to provide my sense of safety.
  • I have difficulty getting started, meeting deadlines, and completing projects.
  • I have trouble setting healthy priorities.

Avoidance patterns:

  • I act in ways that invite others to reject, shame, or express anger toward me. (Not sure)
  • I judge harshly what others think, say, or do.
  • I avoid emotional, physical, or sexual intimacy as a means of maintaining distance.
  • I allow my addictions to people, places, and things to distract me from achieving intimacy in relationships. (This statement seems contradictory)
  • I use indirect and evasive communication to avoid conflict or confrontation.
  • I diminish my capacity to have healthy relationships by declining to use all the tools of recovery.
  • I suppress my feelings or needs to avoid feeling vulnerable.
  • I pull people toward me, but when they get close, I push them away.
  • I refuse to give up my self-will to avoid surrendering to a power that is greater than myself.
  • I believe displays of emotion are a sign of weakness. (Only in my case, I do not hold others to this standard. In fact, I find it healthy and beneficial for others.
  • I withhold expressions of appreciation.

Well, I think we've firmly established that I am fucked up.

Is there anything GOOD inside me at all? Jesus.....

Compliance patterns:

  • I compromise my own values and integrity to avoid rejection or others' anger.
  • I am very sensitive to how others are feeling and feel the same.
  • I am extremely loyal, remaining in harmful situations too long.
  • I value others' opinions and feelings more than my own and am afraid to express differing opinions and feelings of my own.
  • I put aside my own interests and hobbies in order to do what others want.
  • I accept sex and/or sexual attention when I want love.
  • I am afraid to express my beliefs, opinions, and feelings when they differ from those of others.
  • I make decisions without regard to the consequences.
  • I give up my truth to gain the approval of others or to avoid change.

Control patterns:

  • I believe most other people are incapable of taking care of themselves.
  • I attempt to convince others of what they "should" think and how they "truly" feel.
  • I become resentful when others will not let me help them.
  • I freely offer others advice and directions without being asked.
  • I lavish gifts and favors on those I care about.
  • I use sex to gain approval and acceptance.
  • I have to be "needed" in order to have a relationship with others.
  • I demand that my needs be met by others.
  • I use charm and charisma to convince others of my capacity to be caring and compassionate.
  • I use blame and shame to emotionally exploit others.
  • I refuse to cooperate, compromise, or negotiate.
  • I adopt an attitude of indifference, helplessness, authority, or rage to manipulate outcomes.
  • I have obsessive, compulsive thinking patterns and cannot focus on daily activities.
  • I use terms of recovery in an attempt to control the behavior of others.
  • I pretend to agree with others to get what I want.

Feb. 6th, 2012



Every good, benevolent thing I have ever done for anyone never mattered. The love I had and still have for others never mattered. Nothing matters. I am broken, and I am reman here only because I am compelled by my human nature to preserve my own life. Everyone I love will leave me. Everything I cherish will be destroyed, while I remain. This is the essence of the unfairness and injustice of my life. I love, and I am not loved in return. People love me, and I cannot love them the way they love me. 

My marriage has failed, and I am alone. I will always be so. This is the hardest thing with which I have ever had to come to accept. I will never truly know the people I have loved, and they will never know me. No one will ever know me. Everyone continues on, and I remain here, alone. I cannot express the deep sorrow I feel, the constant pain. But I persist, because I have no choice. I loved my husband. Ino longer know what is true. I want to sleep forever. I have no choices left.

I go to sleep each night, and part of me wishes that I may never wake up again. The part of me that strives for its own existence continues waking into loneliness and regret. My life is no longer substantial. I am empty, and the void I have tried to fill is bottomless. I do not know why I am here. I pantomime my life in the way that is expected, but I long to dissociate. I long to feel nothing. The concept of meaning is itself meaningless.

I'm not supposed to be here.

On a more practical note, Matt and I still love each other. But we are changed, and so is  our love..... if that is even a real thing at all. I will continue on, though I wish I would not. The only constant in life is that nothing stays the same.

I've decided that I don't care anymore, and if I drink myself to death it will be no great loss, to anyone. I have truly loved, and that's all I know. I don't care to know any more than that, I already know too much. If there is another place that I am going to, I want whomever is reading this to know that my love was never a lie, and that I'm sorry, and I will miss you.

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