stupid, stupid, stupid

saw the doctor yesterday, nothing much changed there. dropped another med (trying to drop everything, one a month). continuing the patches, went on the next higher dose, need to restrict the diet a bit more now and be more careful. i had one crisis a week prior to seeing the doctor, and probably should of went to the hospital for it. i was, mehhh, to scared to ask for help. scared to ask for help, and i am asking for too much help these days. i kind of hoped the hypertensive crisis would end up badly, in a very painful way. it was a few days of non-stop make it go away, cry it hurts so bad headaches from the elevated blood pressure. the obsessive me made sure to document my blood pressure every few hours -- i was going to go to the ER if i hit 160/120, but i was pretty steady around 150+/120. yeah, stupid and lazy. lazy and stupid.

feeling a lot of self-hatred, emptiness, and some bits of hopelessness. i can't tell if this is getting over, or if this is the falling that i've been fighting. words to people that i can't speak, words to people that i shouldn't speak, and words that won't get out of my head. they are just words, in the end.

just words

ballons

a hot air balloon landed in the front yard this morning. they are kind of like pests around here, but it made me remember the first time i can recall one landing. they had a really huge ballon, and were nice folks and gave us a bottle of champagne to excuse the landing.

lonely

Unexpected words lead to unexpected goodbyes

Sometimes the people you think might not give you a straight answer, do, and it's a bit shocking. It actually hurts less, to be given an answer instead of being left to wonder what exactly did I do, what exactly am I doing wrong, what exactly am I not doing, or... or... any of the things our minds do when they go in circles.

Allen, it's too hurtful to talk to you. No one has said that to me before, and I was really shocked, not like it probably wasn't true, but for the first time someone told me something like that and I was able to respect it and just let it go.

I'm making it easier on everyone else in the world and stopping myself from being a burden, it feels fairly clear to this crazy paranoid mind that some friends need a lot of space and room right now, and I might be complicating things a great deal, or holding onto them far too much for them to handle right now. I hope that they can talk to me when they are doing better, and I wish they would tell me what I could of done or not done to make them better, or if needed flat out tell me I'm driving them crazy right now. But, I know it's hard to tell a friend something like that. Very few people read this, someday they will come around and maybe read this stupid post.

Until someone tells me otherwise I think I'm relegated to that thing called email, that most people don't really communicate with anymore, I'm less of an agitation there and more easily set aside. It's easier on everyone, and no one has to worry if I do not have a presence online.

Breathing

Still breathing, is about all I can say. I'm trying to think of words that would mean something more, but I guess that's all i can settle for.

Sometimes people can't ever forget, what's worse is when two people can't forget. I've dwelled and dwelled on the past so much, that now that I look around, I see how many changes have occured in just one year, or two, or more. Where did all that time go, I guess into that empty part of me that I keep on trying to fill and won't ever be filled -- not the way I keep on living this life. What's the point of my life when I've reached 27 and everyone else has outpaced me, even the people I was holding hands with trying to help; and now they have their own lives, their own futures and responsibilities. And here I am, just me, just the same person. Have I grown any? Maybe a little, emotionally, but that isn't a whole lot to say, when life seems more like a game of putting everything ahead of emotions.

I'm walking backwards and no one is waiting for me. I'd cry about it, but I've already cried about things like this enough.

I think I'm getting better at endings, and that isn't something to be proud of; shouldn't a person be getting better at not having to end things? Maybe I shouldn't feel so responsible for other people's lives, but even if I shouldn't, I would. It's like breathing, and if that part was lacking, I wouldn't be this mess of who I am.

Breathing each day, is harder than living. Being whatever kind of person I am, makes living seem like an impossibility, especially when I'm so dark down in this hole, and the people I rely on have so many of their own problems that I find myself pulling them down with me -- I can't do that. So it's just another night. Night, after night, after night of solitude, of that gnawing desperation inside that I don't know how to escape, fill it up with chemicals, fill it up with sleep, fill it up with anything; it just won't get better until this head gets better and it's been several years I've been stuck with this cold, but these past few months have turned into one of the worst winters I've known. The last winter like this, I was in a hospital, hooked up to machines feeling nothing, not wanting to feel anything, and it took months to feel something, but I still didn't find myself, and I still didn't find that life I used to have and still wish I had, and I still didn't find a new life.

I don't live in the past as much as I used to, but I do so more than other people. I know most people don't cry at night about things that could of, would of, might of, or just cry because, hey, I felt alive that day or week or month and now I don't feel alive.

I don't feel alive, and I am not living, I'm just breathing, and it's becoming hard to breath.