Leon Czolgosz (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} anorgasmia) wrote,@ 2006-08-03 02:13:00 |
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Sometimes I have to stop and convince myself that the past 8 months or so have actually been real. I'm coming out of a slump, I suppose. But I'm still anti-social as hell. Here are some things I've been thinking about, reflecting upon depression, anti-socialness, loss, and all that.
Coming back to Beloit in late December, I remember seeing the crowds of people at Commons, sitting, talking, laughing and it was like I was viewing another world. Everyone would ask how I was doing, and I'd always shrug and say "As good as I can be." That was the easiest response I could come up with. Any other would be either entirely fake, or it'd sound like I was merely trying to evoke sympathy. For months I'd be uncomfortable when people would bring up Alex's death, but at the same time that was all I wanted to talk about. I didn't give a fuck about anything. I stopped shaving, showering, maintaining my room and listening to people. When I'd get drunk, I'd end up bawling, so I smoked a lot of pot -- just to feel something. To remind me that I still HAD an imagination, that my thought train hadn't been completely derailed. I remember the night I took mushrooms and spent most of the night laying in bed, just thinking about things. I walked outside in my pajama pants at 2 AM to see a desolate, cold world that wasn't going to wait around for me. when i went back inside I wrote:
"sometimes we just need time to fizzle. we can't constantly explode.
the world is far more interesting than my headspace.
sometimes i need to go where there are blankets, sometimes i need to tinker with ideas of infinity.
it freaks me out that i can't give all the love i feel for everyone.
the world is not always trying to reach you.
people are walking to places, they don't have to let you into buildings.
the trees don't have any leaves yet.
the snow keeps wanting to fall, but it needs to keep on, keep moving.
the world needs to flow again."
Everything had just been frozen in those months. I can't even believe that I had a starring role in a student film. Sometimes I need to look at the DVD cover to even remember it. It's a wonder to me that I was even able to interact at all, to fake it enough to function, if only just a bit. And I was so incredibly thin-skinned back then. Everything sounded like an insult to me, I nearly lost several friends because of it. Everyone's words sounded fake and hollow. When I dropped out of school, I thought being in D.C. would help, but seeing hoardes of young business people with blank expressions filing in and out of their jobs....it made it worse. Now it wasn't just people's words that seemed faked -- it was everything. I lived in this completely vapid world, filled with a dull rage at everything. I'd come home from working (everyone in the office thought I was so quiet) and would lay in bed, imagining fire and explosions to sweep everything away.
(I'm just writing this to remind myself that this shit actually happened.)
Today is the eight-month anniversary of Alex's death. It's been weeks since I've cried about it, but I woke up this morning with an immense upset feeling -- before I even remembered what day it was.
I may have lost all contact with a person who I used to consider one of my closest friends, even if I've only known him for a short time. Losing a friend isn't the same as the death of a sibling,, no. But it evokes many of the same feelings -- namely, someone close to you dropping completely out of your life for no apparent reason. That unanswered question of "why?" Jessi said it best, "there's never a why" And as Aaron said before and after the funeral, "there are no rules." It makes me sick to think that some of the people I love and care about so much are going to fade into oblivian. And at the same time, I see all the love and support I still have. I look at Alina and remember her by my side the whole month of December, strong as can be, just holding me and letting me cry. And she's never let down, and my God, I love her more than I can ever ever say.
Bottom line is, there's hope, I think.
Let's just try to figure out this whole "food/air" deal in the world, hmm?
Coming back to Beloit in late December, I remember seeing the crowds of people at Commons, sitting, talking, laughing and it was like I was viewing another world. Everyone would ask how I was doing, and I'd always shrug and say "As good as I can be." That was the easiest response I could come up with. Any other would be either entirely fake, or it'd sound like I was merely trying to evoke sympathy. For months I'd be uncomfortable when people would bring up Alex's death, but at the same time that was all I wanted to talk about. I didn't give a fuck about anything. I stopped shaving, showering, maintaining my room and listening to people. When I'd get drunk, I'd end up bawling, so I smoked a lot of pot -- just to feel something. To remind me that I still HAD an imagination, that my thought train hadn't been completely derailed. I remember the night I took mushrooms and spent most of the night laying in bed, just thinking about things. I walked outside in my pajama pants at 2 AM to see a desolate, cold world that wasn't going to wait around for me. when i went back inside I wrote:
"sometimes we just need time to fizzle. we can't constantly explode.
the world is far more interesting than my headspace.
sometimes i need to go where there are blankets, sometimes i need to tinker with ideas of infinity.
it freaks me out that i can't give all the love i feel for everyone.
the world is not always trying to reach you.
people are walking to places, they don't have to let you into buildings.
the trees don't have any leaves yet.
the snow keeps wanting to fall, but it needs to keep on, keep moving.
the world needs to flow again."
Everything had just been frozen in those months. I can't even believe that I had a starring role in a student film. Sometimes I need to look at the DVD cover to even remember it. It's a wonder to me that I was even able to interact at all, to fake it enough to function, if only just a bit. And I was so incredibly thin-skinned back then. Everything sounded like an insult to me, I nearly lost several friends because of it. Everyone's words sounded fake and hollow. When I dropped out of school, I thought being in D.C. would help, but seeing hoardes of young business people with blank expressions filing in and out of their jobs....it made it worse. Now it wasn't just people's words that seemed faked -- it was everything. I lived in this completely vapid world, filled with a dull rage at everything. I'd come home from working (everyone in the office thought I was so quiet) and would lay in bed, imagining fire and explosions to sweep everything away.
(I'm just writing this to remind myself that this shit actually happened.)
Today is the eight-month anniversary of Alex's death. It's been weeks since I've cried about it, but I woke up this morning with an immense upset feeling -- before I even remembered what day it was.
I may have lost all contact with a person who I used to consider one of my closest friends, even if I've only known him for a short time. Losing a friend isn't the same as the death of a sibling,, no. But it evokes many of the same feelings -- namely, someone close to you dropping completely out of your life for no apparent reason. That unanswered question of "why?" Jessi said it best, "there's never a why" And as Aaron said before and after the funeral, "there are no rules." It makes me sick to think that some of the people I love and care about so much are going to fade into oblivian. And at the same time, I see all the love and support I still have. I look at Alina and remember her by my side the whole month of December, strong as can be, just holding me and letting me cry. And she's never let down, and my God, I love her more than I can ever ever say.
Bottom line is, there's hope, I think.
Let's just try to figure out this whole "food/air" deal in the world, hmm?
