Random thoughts
I don’t really know what to write.
I’ve been blocking my feelings again, so I could function normally. If I weren’t, I’d be crying in bed all the time and wouldn’t leave my bed.
I’m trying to go on: the job hunt, a small contract, video games, some art or photos from time to time, getting familiar with the city, with another country. There are many things I love about living here, but there are times when I just see the reality clearly and I can’t get myself together again. I see that I’m missing the life.
I’ve stopped practicing the things my Good Wizard had taught me. I don’t see a point in all this. I miss him. I haven’t seen him in eight months and I miss him.
Now my good friend T has come over to visit for the holidays, and instead of being happy, I feel even more lonely and lost, because I see what I’m missing all the time.
And on the top of all of this I’m having serious doubts about myself, my self esteem is going down, I’m not certain about my feelings, and my libido is playing tricks on me.
Sanity
I suspect having negative sanity since about two weeks ago. Two things actually happened that caused that, and only my big sense of humour and finding funny stuff in everything keeps me from massive depression and going berserk.
I hadn’t spoken with my mother for more than a week before yesterday. It was one of the most quiet weeks ever. She had phoned me last week only to create more panic, and to inform me that my cats will die in a plane.
Since I’m panicked enough already and the relocation stuff has been occupying 100% of my time and thoughts, with my sanity already hanging on a thread, you can see how this wasn’t the kind of information I needed to hear right then, so I ended the call and cried for half an hour. At least I found out I can cry again. Sort of.
Anyway, she felt offended. Big time. And haven’t called me for over a week. Instead my father came over and went on how I treat my mother badly and now she’s unhappy and also that I won’t be able to do anything without help (sanity faded slightly).
The second thing was another phonecall from a so-called friend, who needed some sympathy, empathy or whatever, because he had a big unsolvable problem: his girlfriend had to go away. For two days. For two fucking days.
I quietly reminded him how long I’ve been forced to live away from my love and since when I hadn’t seen him. I found no understanding, or at least no real understanding.
After this incident I decided not to invite this person to my farewell party. Neither I need to hear pointless rantings of selfish people, nor take care of them and be their “good aunt” to cry their problems to.
I’m going to Dublin in less than two weeks. I’m afraid, panicked, tired of packing stuff and throwing stuff out, tired of living alone, having to listen to what my mother has to say.
Fortunately my love is coming over this Friday and the party is on Saturday, so it’s peace and fun and positive sanity again before me. But until then I have to be strong and finish everything that I have started.
Music that makes me alive
There are songs, tunes and performances and performers, that go straight to my emotions without the analytical phase. They cut me open, shatter me to pieces, I feel a large ball of heavy energy over my stomach, I feel paralized, my hands and feet get numb. My mind gets numb. and I feel so sore like I was yearning for something that I don’t know of yet and I may never know. For something that could be just Right if it was here and I’d be in the right place.
And when I listen to them I feel like I’m alien to everything and everyone and everything is alien to me and only in this particular music everything is just right and I’m right. And I want to get inside that music, and I can’t, so I get even more sad. And yet I keep listening over and over, because it makes me feel, I feel more alive than I am without it. It’s like touching open wounds to feel the touch at all.
Everyone has their own inner music. Mine has a lot of air, as much fire, and a lot of great sadness. I see sounds in colours and feelings. I can touch the sound, feel its texture. I can see its colour and how it changes.
Robert Plant’s voice and way of singing is grey-blueish, smooth and steel-like cool and soft wind-like airy. It shatters me a little bit more every time. But I’ll keep listening. This is the cost of beauty awareness. If I didn’t hurt when I listen to music, I wouldn’t be aware of its beauty. It makes me seriously wonder about my life and my soul, and who I want to be, it makes me better. Or at least I think so.
Five days of pure happiness
I’m trying to take as much energy from his presence, as I can. We make love, talk, walk, hug, make love again, talk again, and so on. I wish it was for more than just five days. I know the pain will come back when he’s gone. I try not to think about it and savour every moment, every word, every breath.
Yearning
Sometimes yearning is almost physical and it almost hurts. Each memory of being close and intimate with him is sweet and painful at the same time. Even more painful is the awareness that the next meeting will be short, and after that I’ll again become cut in two.
It’s good that he’s coming home tomorrow, five days of being close is better than none.
