We've all known that I'm not... all there. Or maybe it was just me who didn't really know until recently. I would think the bi-polar tendencies would have given me a hint a lot sooner, you know.

But... I think it's only been recently... actually maybe even mere hours that I've thought to myself and had confirmed by another that I should probably seek professional help. Or as close to professional as I can get.

So... I think sometime this week, I'll go to Keeny Hall and see if I can't get a time to meet with a counselor or something. I don't know. I feel sick just thinking about it, actually. The last time I saw a counselor was in the 6th grade... when this whole mess really began to kick off, I think. "Everyone has to meet with the counselor at least once" my ass. Those teachers should have just told me that they were seeing something wrong. Maybe then I would have cooperated better. Maybe then, I wouldn't have ignored that woman when she gave me that stuffed-bottle lecture.

... but coulda shoulda wouldas aren't important here.

Still... I feel sick. In so many ways. I feel sick in the fact that I've told someone something I've never really completely explained to anyone else. And I'm wondering if it was the right idea, if maybe I should have still continued to keep it to myself because I'm left wondering how things will pan out from here, whether or not this will destroy something I consider very dear to me or if it will actually not effect it at all. I dunno which worries me most. That something will change our friendship or that nothing will change at all.

On top of that, I feel sick at the thought of seeking this kind of help. I'm not liking the idea that if I do get help--which I should most likely do if I want to regain my footing in this matter--I'll have to retell it all eventually... and then some. I'll have to look in places I haven't looked in a while. I'll have to--to borrow horatio09's anology--clean all of those dishes in that sink that's so full and the water so murky and filthy with God knows what under the surface.

But that's all a part of my problem, isn't it? The avoiding, the bottling up, the running away from the situation until it catches up with me and then I can't deal with it except to lash out in fear and anger at being caught and cornered. Even though I always say I want someone to do that for me--catch me, corner me... they would have to suffer a lot just to get me to finally break down and tell them everything.

Which may be why I'm worried sick about all of this. No one's caught me, no one's cornered me. I'm doing this myself and it's my decision and... I don't like doing this. I don't like making decisions, I don't like having to decide where to go and what to do, but this is my life, right? I'm going to have to do this, right? I can't let others live my life for me, right? That's just... ridiculous, right?

So... seeing counselors... seeing some help in that sort of way... I should be okay, right? And yet, I know that I'll be on the defense as soon as I step into the room and they ask me questions... because I won't be the one to start the session. I won't be the one offering answers to questions not asked... because that's how I've always done it. Until today when I offered an explanation without someone asking. I broke that tradition and now... I'm so shaken up about it that I don't know if I can do the same thing in a session.

It's as if I reached out once and as soon as I felt someone reach back and take hold of my hand, I want to jerk away and hide back in that dark room because it's only now that I really and truly understand that people have been knocking at the door, begging me to let them in. And now that door's ajar and she can come in and out whenever she wants because I've already accepted her that much--more than I have others, which bewilders me in more ways than one.

And I'm sorry if I've gone too far with this post. I know that maybe some of things I've said here should be said directly to that person, but... right now, I'm trying to deal with that thought. That I've actually let someone in and it's not someone that I've known for a long time... two years isn't really that long, in the scheme of things, is it? And yet, I'm wondering if, after reading this, that person understands just how much I do value our friendship--as turbulent as it can be at times. Ha... we're such hard-headed people sometimes, aren't we? Though I think I've given you more trouble that you probably deserve.

So... I'm working through some things. I know I'm worrying some of you guys, but... this is just something I have to deal with. I should be okay. I'll bounce back like always. Maybe not exactly the same as always because I'm going to try to stop pretending as much as I have been, even though it feels like I'm going to suffocate from having so much air to breathe after taking off these masks...
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Have you ever had one of those times when you just want to say things? Throw every kind word that you've ever gotten from everyone back in their face? Just to laugh? Just to see what would happen? It could destroy friendships. Destroy the one bit of sanity and the only one thing that can keep a person from completely losing themselves... and yet to be able to be that free to say all of those things, just for the hell of it, just to see what would happen...

Of course there's no such thing, right? There are always consequences for what we say and do to others. Because it's not your life you're fucking up by doing that, is it?

No, I haven't really done this to anyone... or at least not on the scale I'm talking about here. The scale that basically says that everyone is a target. Even when they shouldn't be.

You... can see why I'm scared, right? Of myself. Of letting others too close. And yet, each time I make an insightful post, I feel like I'm coming closer to that dark part of me and so are other people. It's that part of me that makes me lash out at others when they insult me--I physically hurt my own sisters just because of their words. I have verbally hurt others just because I think they're saying something. I... am a horribly messed up person... who likes to pretend she's something else than that...

Have you ever... wondered what it's like not to care? I don't have to wonder so much anymore. Those fits of apathy disguised now by smiles and laughter because I sometimes wonder if people really know what it means for someone who was always so empathetic to suddenly become that way every few weeks or so... maybe more, maybe less.

I know there's a lot of things that I avoid and this is but one of them and you're all probably wondering what led me to make a post like this. The answer to the latter question: Nothing. Except for the fact that I actually took a closer look at myself, saw this, and then came running here to... I don't know what. Ask forgiveness for something I haven't done yet? Something I might have done unintentionally? Beg for help even when you all know that I'll hear you but probably won't act on it too late?

Uncertainty and anxiety and self-loathing... it's a wonder I still have friends at this point, especially since they watch me over and over, tearing into myself where there's no physical evidence that there's anything wrong and the only psychological evidence may in fact be these writings... my stories, even. Maybe.

How can anyone deal with a person like that? I don't understand and I don't get it. I even tell people... that I'm not at all stable. Yet they insist I'm the most stable person they know... or maybe they haven't said that but I make myself believe that I heard them say this... I try to explain about my temper, my depression, my fears... and I don't think they ever really understand what I'm trying to tell them.

I'm not afraid of hurting myself. I'm afraid of hurting them. I don't want to hurt anybody but that's what I end up doing all the time anyway. Either I'm mad and lash out physically or verbally, or I'm depressed and cut into myself and make others upset and sad--because apparently no one is allowed to have these feelings and no one should be outside of that social norm, or I'm scared and I try to run away, which makes others angry, which makes me angry, which goes back into the whole lashing out thing...

People tell me to stop being so afraid of change but... if everything I do wrong leads to one of those three things... how am I supposed to change?
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I just got off the phone with my best friend from high school Kendra and... just got reminded of a lot of things from the past.

See... we were just talking and somehow, our conversation wandered over to remembering Mr. Brown--our high school band director. And by just thinking about him, we remembered the end of our Junior year and all of our Senior year. They were such messes...

But it was during this conversation that I came to realize why I've been avoiding some of the things I've been avoiding for a while now. For example, leadership. I had been a section leader my senior year in high school. The year everything went to hell, when the band fought each other and Mr. Brown.

Kendra... was in tears over the phone, saying how hard we had tried to keep that band together, like we told our sempai--the seniors of 2004--we would. But... no matter what we tried, nothing worked. The lower classmen wouldn't listen to us, the people with authority wouldn't listen to us, Mr. Brown wouldn't listen to us, Mrs. Hutchenson wouldn't listen to us. We tried everything and... it still ended up that way...

It still ended with us getting a 2 in Festival. It still ended with Mr. Brown passing away maybe a week or two later--what I think was the result of a broken heart. He loved our band so much and tried so hard to get us to make it through that year and it just... didn't work.

"We tired our best, Trinity. We tried our best..." was what Kendra kept telling me, and it breaks my heart thinking that we did try our best. That we tried our best but everything was against us and nothing worked and it all ended in failure. It all ended in us losing our beloved mentor. It all ended with our band falling apart only to come together with grief.

... it just... wasn't fair that every year before that and after, the senior year tried and succeeded to make things work. That the senior years before and after us have succeeded where we have failed. That the senior years before and after us consider us an ugly stain marring the prideful image of that band...

But yeah... Kendra and I eventually moved on with our conversation. We relived happier times with Mr. Brown. How he would say "Jesus Christ... mas!" "Lord love a duck!" and that ever present, "One more time!"

There is no more "One more time!" The band seniors of 2005... failed at having a "One more time!" We failed at everything that year even when we tried so hard...

And just when Kendra had regained her composure, she kept saying, "One more time. That's what he always said."

Eventually, I told her, "I think I know why I haven't been doing so well in band lately. ... I haven't thought of Mr. Brown for a long time. JRob doesn't say 'One more time.' He says, "One last time" or "This is the pentultimate time.'"

So she told me, "Whenever he says that... just imagine Mr. Brown saying 'One more time,' and smile, remembering him. Smile. Because smile's are contagious, you know."

"So are tears," I added, laughing a bit as I started to cry.

... I've been doing Mr. Brown a dishonor. Having such trouble in the band, wanting to just give up and not bother anymore, wanting the 2 hours of rehearsals to be over with. It hasn't been until this past week that I've started to have fun in band again. So... maybe... I've needed to think about Mr. Brown again. To remember all those times in junior high and high school when I knew him...

I just wish I knew where his grave is and could remember the date that he passed away. I don't think a lot of us remember the actual date. "Sometime in April..." is what Kendra and I kept saying. And I know that he's been laid to rest somewhere in Florida because that's his home but...

I think the only way I can pay tribute to that man who loved music so much is to keep having fun with band. All this year until this past week, I've been feeling like band was nothing but a burden that paid me $800 a year. But... I guess now I remember why I'm in the band in the first place...
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I think Tuesdays and Thursdays are going to be my rough days. You know, those days where you feel like you can't do anything right? Yeah.

I'm scared to find out my French test score next Thursday, too. Saa...

Besides that, yes, I'm not doing so well today. First because of French class, second because I'm watching from afar as a friend of mine is continuously hurting themselves and there's nothing I can do to help. I wouldn't even know how to start helping because--what do I know? I'm 19. I haven't the experience or the knowledge to know how to deal with all of that...

So I try to focus on French, which is really giving me a harder time than I'd hope. But focusing on French only makes me feel more inferior and ignorant and inexperienced. I'm surrounded by six other people who can speak it and understand it very well in that class. And I'm... dead last.

This is my major? This is what I want in life? This... failing this means I would fail in all of my goals, right? But what are my goals? I set a small one for this quarter, but for my life? Why am I taking these courses and calling them my majors? What am I going to do with them? Interpretor? Teacher? Maybe something else? What else? And what if I can't make it to any of those? Have I wasted my whole time at college? But wait, there's still a way to go, isn't there?

I just want to crawl into a corner and not have to deal with school anymore. I love to learn. I love to be considered intelligent in my own right, but... here in this place, in this setting... I don't feel smart at all. I feel like the biggest idiot alive who doesn't know what the fuck she's doing, who's squandering everything she has because she doesn't know what she has because she has neither the experience nor learned knowledge of what there is.

I feel so stupid here. And yet, I had my dad tell me on the phone before Christmas break that I'm on the Dean of Liberal Arts' list. Which is an honor, I'm sure, but it also means that if I get taken off that list, I fail. I raised the bar for myself without knowing it and if I fall short, I'd not only disappoint myself, but my parents who keep saying that I've taken to college like a duck to water.

Sure, I don't mind the being by myself up here most days, but some days it does get to me. And sometimes I do well in classes, but on other days, I have days like this past Tuesday where I just... God, so stupid...

And I'm sure none of this is worth even posting because everyone on my f-list knows how much I beat myself up for these kinds of things, how much I can really hate myself. It's really not out of the ordinary for me, is it? And anyway, a lot of you have a lot more problems to work through than me, who hasn't even stepped out into the real world.

I've taken to college like a duck to water, but the real world? No idea.

Maybe I'll be eaten alive.

... actually, I probably will.
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Talking about a goal, and how to achieve it is one thing.

It's an entirely different thing to actually go out there and take the first step.

I've always known this--how could I not if I've always been avoiding it since... well, for a long time now.

Yesterday... I said that I would work on everything on Sunday. Instead, I gave myself on last chance to not do anything and not think about anything before I take the plunge. Maybe it's not a good thing to back away from the edge right after you said you're going to jump, but I think... I need this breath. I need this chance to screw up my courage, close my eyes, run for the edge, and leap.

I don't know what's below--in the space between the edge and the bottom. I don't know if there's water deep enough to catch me, I don't know if there are actually sharp rocks to tear me into pieces. I don't know anything, and being who I am, I'm terrified because I don't know.

That's the worst thing about me, I think. I can understand something. It might take me a while--as in the case of this goal of mine and this first step toward getting out of that dark room--but I eventually understand things. However, understanding and knowing are two different things. I can understand how someone feels if they've failed before but I can't really know, now can I? I'm not that person. My idea of pain and theirs might be completely different.

The same goes for this cliff I'm trying to get ready to dive off of.

I needed this breath before the plunge. But I may actually be giving myself a chance to back away and turn away from my decision. Because that's how I feel right now. Running. Avoiding. Dodging.

I've done it so long now, keeping myself from having to face choices like these--wanting to do something just because I want it. These kinds of decisions... are the worst for me. Tell me what I need to do and I can accept that with little argument--except if you say I need to do what I want to do. That's when I get fussy.

Wanting to do something and needing to do something... are just two completely different things.

It's like that conversation we had before, isn't it?

- "Do you want?"
-- "Of course I want. How could I not?"
- "Do you want to know who you are?"
-- "I don't know."

I still don't know. And even though I admitted that I wanted back then... I never truly admitted it to myself until last night. I want... but I don't know what it is I want. I think I've been trying to answer the second question since then but have always run into a road block.

And it's because I've been running away and avoiding.

Heh. To be honest, I have no idea why I'm posting all of this. LJ is a place for me to put my thoughts into a solid form, I think. I can't easily put my thoughts into actions. If I could, I wouldn't be going through this time of trying to justify my actions and behavior up until now.

There is no justification.

I've been a coward, afraid of trying and afraid of succeeding because I want it.

Wanting.

Needing.

I understand the latter so much better than the former. I can survive on the things I need to have and I need to do. Wanting... is so much harder to think about and to deal with. And I'm not really sure why.

... except when you think about how I get when people offer me things or are kind to me. The whole "I'm so grateful that I'm ingrateful" thing.

Saa... thinking about all of these things aren't really going to help with anything that needs to be worked on, I don't think. It doesn't help my financial situation much, it doesn't help me get anywhere mentally except perhaps in a continuous circle until I get another clue or epiphany.

I hate being stuck in one place. However, if it means strengthening myself for the next step, then I guess that's what I have to do. At least for a little longer.

It still feels to me like I'm missing a major point even with all of this babble. I have no idea what it is but it's hanging just out of my reach. I wish I was as capable as some of these other people I know. I wish I was as smart as they are. I wish I was as successful as them...

But before I can even come close to getting anywhere to those points, I have to take this plunge.

Deep breath.
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You all know how I can be with these sort of things. I'm lazy, I procrastinate, but I always get things done, albeit in a fashion that isn't all that respectable or anything. However, with all the things that's been going on this winter--hell, all this past year--I'm starting to feel ready to get serious.

And I know that it seems like I've said this before, but I haven't really.

Whenever I've said something similar in the past, I was just saying, "I will do it because I have to." Always when I've said this, I've just been saying reasons why I can't fail, why I have to get through all of this mess. I've never really said anything besides "I need to" for a reason.

Well, I've been thinking about things. About goals and such. There's a reason I've never really set myself up with an actual goal to achieve. Right now, I'm in a torrent of confusion and doubt and what ifs. Always, these sort of things have made me hesitant to really try for a goal because whenever I have, I have always come just short of reaching it. After a while, I came to "settle" for whatever result I got, which has led me down this path I'm currently trying to beat down with little to no result to show for the effort--which is hardly any.

This Fall, I did change that a little. I've actually studied for my Spanish class, however, I still slacked off in English and band (not memorizing music when I probably should have).

I think... it's about time to set myself up a goal. No more "as long as I pass, it doesn't matter." That is something a defeatist or someone who's resigned to their fate would say, right?

I can be quite the defeatist. And more often than not, I am resigned to the idea that I will never really be truly adept at the things that I do. However, this doesn't mean I shouldn't keep trying hard to make myself follow the path I've chosen.

To those of you who have spent the last couple of years since you've known me and have tried to show me or tell me this: I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally understand and accept your words. Because even if it may not seem like it, I have always listened to you... I just have either been too stubborn or too much of a coward to act on them.

So starting tomorrow, I'm going to review my French: practice conjugations, different tenses, sentence structure, and of course, vocabulary.

After that I'll be reading the stories and poems for my British Lit class like I was supposed to have been doing from the start--rather than waiting until the day of the class to read them.

With Chemistry, I just need to remember to go over things more than once right before the test and I should be okay there.

And finally, every Wednesday will be spent with at least an hour's worth of rehearsal time on the many parts of the music I've been having trouble with in band. I need to work on my volume, my tone, and the position my mouth should be with the mouth piece (I got bruises under my lower lip before the Christmas holidays because I was positioned wrong and my lower teeth almost bit through). I'll ask Mr. Gibbs if he can help me at some point or another because the horn I have isn't all that great but mostly it's my fault that it sounds bad. I got into Wind Ensemble for a reason, right? Because Mr. Gibbs thought I was worth having in there and, of course, JRob had to agree with it since he runs that band.

So there you have it. Jeva has a goal. Not one that says, "I will do this because I need to" but "I will do this because I want to do my best!"

And even if she comes short of that goal? Oh well. Try try try again, ne?

Oh, and the goal?

An A in every class.

I may, in reality get a B in English, but I can try damn hard to make up for the grades I've already made!

So.

Wish me luck? With how much I'm out of habit of not half-assing things, I'm going to need it! ^________^;;;



EDIT: ... you know, I should probably make another goal for my writing. Ara... *still hasn't worked on anything for fic_off* Ahahaha...
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Okay, so.

As if I don't do it enough these days--you oldbies remember how I would used to always post crack every day and that one time I spammed your f-list with four memes one right after another? Ah...I miss those days.

But that's not the point of this post.

So...

Last night ehrenyu was over at my dorm and we hung out and we went for a walk to get icecream and we talked about her Yami no Matsuei x-over fic ideas and I was listening and laughing and putting in input and such--bouncing ideas back and forth and whatnot.

It was fun.

But there were several instances when there seemed to be this kind of...stand-off-ish thing going on. Like when she first called me, we talked about how we were--because we haven't seen each other for like 4 days at that point in time--and I told her about all the problems I'd been having that past week and yadda yadda.

And then I got the "..." silence over the phone.

I later got the "..." silence in person, face to face with her as she sat at the foot of my bed and I sat at the head of my bed, my two feather pillows between us that I drummed on idly, letting my eyes wander around so I didn't have to look her in the eyes.

And now we get to the point or issue I want to really address.

By making these introspective posts, people who don't really know me can maybe see a side of me that either doesn't often come out or that comes out frequently but isn't explained. Also, it helps me understand myself as a person and...yeah.

Anyway. Issue number one:

I cannot. For the life of me. Look a person in the eye.

Sure I can look at their face--their forehead, mouth, nose--what have you.

But eye-to-eye contact?

No.

Just...no. Can't do it a lot of the time.

And maybe this doesn't really bother others, but I know some people--the people who want me to take charge and be more aggressive and dominant and assertive and all of that. But really, just...no.

I've said before that my family and I compare ourselves to a pack of wolves. Except, ahahaha, lucky us--we're a pack full of alpha wolves. Meaning that as soon as the pups are grown, they're going to start their own pack and leave their old one behind.

Except for me.

It's been widely agreed upon that I am the omega amongst five alphas. An omega is basically a wolf pup that shows signs of alpha or beta (submissive) behavior. Omegas basically have their own run of things--to a certain degree.

They can not really go against the alphas of their pack. In order to do anything of the sort, they'd have to have a fight of dominance and either, as a pup, turn the aggressor belly's up or, as an adult, maybe kill them.

The one way how you can tell if a pup will grow to be the more dominant or submissive type is by holding them up and looking them in the eyes. More often than not, pups will look away almost immediately when they're young. When they get older, however, if they are more of the alpha type, they tend to keep eye contact longer and, if that's not what you want from your dog (because it's not just wolves that do this), you have to get that pup to lay down and turn his belly up at you.

If they keep looking away, they're not going to challenge your authority and they see you as the alpha of their pack. Therefore, they will not go against you unless they're an omega and decide to go rogue, but that's completely different.

Anyway, the point is that I don't know if ehrenyu is constantly put off by my never looking at her when she talks but...that's just how I am.

Maybe I have the capabilities to become an alpha myself, but the truth of the matter is that after living my entire life surrounded by alphas who've I've always lost the fight of dominance to (srsly, we would go at it and...yeah...scary pictures my dad took of that on time. I was practically feral...). So...yeah.

I'm submissive.

This is why I don't like to be put in charge and why I am stressing out so bad this quarter--as I've already said and as I've come to realize and understand and accept. I just don't do well when I'm put into these situations because I've grown used to the fact that it's not required or wanted of me...or something. Maybe not quite worded that way. Independence is highly respected in my family--so is adaptation and perseverence but still...

I've grown used to being the one that backs down first. I've grown used to being the obscure one. It's a bit of a comfort zone for me.

So...yeah.

If any of you know or will meet me in person, please bear this in mind. If you're talking to me and I've not actually looking at you, it doesn't mean I'm not listening.

Unless I say, "...huh?" when you've finished saying something.

Only then can you get pissy at me for not paying attention.

Likewise, I have a tendency to fool around with things when people talk to me. My drumming on the pillows when ehrenyu was over last night, for example. Also, biting nails, sorting papers, muttering to myself about something that has nothing to do with the conversation at hand, etc, etc, etc...

Maybe I have a case of ADD, but whatever. I've never been able to not function because of this. But it does make it difficult when people--especially teachers--tell me not to multitask or fool around while they're talking to me. If I don't have something else to do but listen, I will lose interesting and then I'll be all "Huh?" and your thwacking me won't help because I listen better if I'm doing something else.

Hokay, so. Two things down.

Third thing.

ehrenyu (and I'm really sorry for using you as the example, but you've been the only one smart enough or brave enough or daring enough or concerned enough or whatever enough to ask for at least somewhat of an explanation for these things while face-to-face with me) once asked me before for some reason or another (maybe I was appearing more distant than usual?) if I thought of her as a friend. Mind, this was while we in the computer lab and we were addressing this issue in an IM.

Anyway. So basically, I had a "Buh?" look on my face and I felt really, really bad.

The reason?

Because I worry about people confronting me about these kind of questions and not having an answer.

Luckily, however, I had an answer.

Sadly, though, it was a blunt and very...perhaps cold answer?

"If you weren't my friend, I wouldn't let you hang around me so much. Now would I?"

...or something along those lines.

Anyway, this issue came back last night as we went to visit ehrenyu's Significant Other (they're so cute~ ♥) at Subway because she was all stressed out and yeah--ice cream helps with stress, right? Right.

Yeah, so...when we were in there, some girl in the back behind the counter was waving at me...and I didn't notice. Until they started getting pissy. Then I was all "Bwuh?" and mouthing apologies to her and waving my hands franctically trying to fix things, but then she waved me off and eh...

So we left Subway and I was all "...I think I knew that person. I just can't remember where or how I know her..."

Thing of the matter is...just like I said about friends: if you are not A) a friend of mine or B) of any use to me in any way, shape, or form--I will not remember you.

It's a true fact.

It's probably cold and heartless, maybe.

But it's practical.

And you just can't deny the truth.

Those of you who are reading this and are wondering which group you fall under--stop. Just don't. If you want to know, ask me. I will be hesitant and maybe even a bit scared of answering--because more often than not I don't even know the answer myself until I'm asked the question--but I will answer. If the answer isn't what you're looking for...I'm sincerely sorry and I'll try better to be a better person.

But I can't totally change who I am.

I've lived a life where practicality and who you know is how you survive. Not to mention that if certain information doesn't serve you, you keep it in mind but don't waste your energy on figuring it out or anything until it becomes an issue.

Face one thing at a time and slowly go through life step by step to get to that distant goal that none of us can see.

And this is what all we were talking about on the way back to my dorm after the Subway stop. ehrenyu mostly allowed me time to spill all of this and all of those uncertain doubts and fears I keep locked away until I feel the need to say something--and no, I won't always feel the need to say something if someone asks me, "Are you okay?"

It's not a specific question and I can easily dodge. If you want an honest answer, pin me down with a question I can't avoid answering without giving myself away. Corner me. Do anything that you have to wrestle the truth out of me, otherwise you'll get nothing but the smiling mask that I always wear.

Which leads me to the point of this post.

ehrenyu got a bit miffed at me while she sat at the foot of my bed at the beginning of the evening, demanding after I explained my ups and downs of the week why I hadn't called her if things were so bad. I just laughed, not able to give an answer without giving myself away. Then I pulled out the excuses.

"I don't feel comfortable saying all of this face-to-face with people," I said. Which she countered with "The phone isn't face-to-face."

Strike one.

"I didn't want to disturb you because you might be busy this quarter, too."
"If you really want, I can write out my schedule for you so that way you know when I have free time."

Strike two.

After that, I just smiled and drummed on my pillows, shrugging. Strike three came even without my saying anything:

"Aren't I supposed to be the older sister here?"

Ah...so stubborn~

And a lot of you guys are stubborn, too. Which is good. Otherwise I wouldn't keep you around (...I'm almost hesitant to decide if that's a joke or not).

But a lot of you let me get away with the dodges and the avoidances. There are some of you who are like ehrenyu and corner me on a regular basis. Still, there's also quite a number of you who let me get away with an "I'm fine" or "It's doesn't matter" or even "I'll get over it."

Any one of these statements may or may not be true but the fact remains that I could also be lying my teeth out and am silently begging and pleading you guys to just corner me and...well, not literally, but figuratively beat the answer from me. Word games are a good way to do this. Another way is to get me talking about myself.

I'm a shallow creature. When I get started, I won't stop until I've realized I'm saying too much.

So yeah.

...and really, I'm not scolding any of you. If anything, I'm scolding myself for being such an idiotic, stubborn, bull-headed, argumentative, cold-hearted, selfish brat of a person.

And please don't butter me up with denials of the kind or whatever. I know I can be a good-hearted, caring, compassionate person. But the fact remains that I'm manipulative and I'm self-serving. If I have a goal and you're not what I need to get to that goal, I will leave you behind and go on without you.

Even if it tears me apart later on when I've come, yet again, just short of my goal.

...

I dunno. Maybe I over-analyze things.

The fact remains, however, that if you ever meet me IRL or if you ever come to know me IRL, you will probably see these things I'm talking about.

A lot of you probably don't understand how much it really scares me sometimes that you either A) don't believe me or B) don't take me seriously when I talk about these things. Someone's already admitted to me that they didn't take into account how much I really and truly fear being seen as so manipulative even though I know the fact is that I am manipulative. Maybe a little--maybe a lot. But I am and that's all that matters, really.

So yeah.

In conclusion: I will often have my low points. Usually if it gets to the point where I feel like tearing my hair out, I will post it on here and get input from you guys. Ranging from "D:! That's horrible!" to "...everyone gets like that D: *hugs*" Most of the time, however...meh. I tend to keep my mouth shut. Especially to people I see face-to-face on a regular basis.

I'm used to Anonyminity. I like the facelessness that the internet and distance gives me. I don't like the spotlight. I don't like being the dominant one. I don't like being the decision-maker. I don't like explaining myself. I don't like having to answer questions and realize for myself, yet again, what a heartless person I can be.

No wonder some people say I'd make a good leader. You have to be at least a little cold-hearted in order to lead others to an end that will sacrifice many a means to get there.

But then again...I don't have a goal in life, really.

One foot in front of the other...

And people who I meet along the way? Are either my comrades or my pawns.

...I bet that makes a lot of you feel good, doesn't it?
.

Okay.

First of all: I know I need to stop pulling my hair out over things I can't help.

Second of all: I know that there are tons of people who've got it way worse than me.

Third of all: Damn it, God, I've got the message. Can you stop with the pushing and the shoving and the sink or swim deal now?

...and the third thing needs a bit of an explanation.

As you may or may not have read in my previous posts (wrrrrrrrrry am I so easily depressed?), I've been stressing about things that I don't have control over and over things that I have been able to avoid up until this point. Yes, avoid. I'm good at avoiding. Just ask any of my "friends." (Btw, I love how when I was typing this up my friend Dominic comes up and I minimize it and ask him what he wanted and he was all "Why can't I read?" and I told him like I tell everyone, "I don't like it when people read over my shoulders when I'm writing things." Still, he asked, "Well, it's a public forum, right?" and I said "Yeah?" and he asked again why he couldn't read it and I explained again that I have this pet peeve--and then he drops a nice little "I thought we were friends" before going back to his computer, leaving me staring and going "Okay, wtf what that about? My God. Can't I ever catch a break?")

Anyway. The things I've been avoiding...

First of all, in the case of British Lit: Working with a group and having people depend on me while I have to depend on them.

This is not a thing I've had to deal with. Sure, every once in a while there's been times when some of my assignments were required to be worked with partners or whatever, but most of the time I lucked out or something and ended up the odd person and either worked alone or did most of the work myself. So yeah. I fail at being a team-worker person.

Except for the fact that I'm in the band and the band depends on everyone working together and supporting each other. Band is probably the only thing that could have taught me how to support others, have others support me. But the lesson I've gotten from band has never really been that, to be honest. It's always kind of been the "I fit in somewhere" thing with the band. No one sticks out in the band, everyone is important. No one person is better than the other and there's an aspect of anonyminity or something.

Being one of many...is so much easier than being one in a few. One of many is faceless, nameless. If you mess up, it's okay because there's so many other people that are doing what you're doing that it doesn't matter and you can make up for it the next time you run through the music. One in a few...people know your face, they know what you're supposed to do, they know whether or not you're doing your part with the same amount of effort that they are. And they can and will hold grudges against you if you even slightly slack off.

So...that's what I'm learning to deal with. A lesson that's been a long time in coming. It probably would have come sooner if I haven't been so obsessed with "fitting in" and "not sticking out" for the whole of my life.

But on the flip-side...with the band, there are soloists. There are people who are more prominant than others. The fact that I've never been a soloist does not take away from the fact that there are such people. And after a long time of being obscure--happily going about my business the way I'm used to, continuously in a sense of routine set into stone--I'm getting shoved into the spotlight. Shoved in front of so many people and not knowing what to do or say, forgetting the notes, forgetting the rhythm, forgetting how to breathe...just...everything falling apart. Routine set into stone crushed and trampled under the heels of the people sitting in the audience, waiting to hear me play and booing me off the stage when I can't seem to do anything except squeak.

In short: I've tried so hard and for so long to make myself not stick out and to blend in and to become this nameless face--one of many--in obscurity that the moment I'm put on the spot like that...I just can't handle it.

...and apparently, I'm supposed to or something. *shakes fist at God, Fate, Karma, Life, whatever*

So...basically what I'm going through is a crash-course of lessons I should have probably learned as a child. Working with others, being put in a situation where others besides myself depend on my performance, trusting others to support me when I'm struggling to get through a line of music that I'm too nervous to play...these are things I've run away from, that I've avoided all this time and they've finally come to kick me in the ass. Hard.

*sighs* In a way, if I were to be a religious person, I'd probably say this was, indeed, God trying to tell me something. "Get your ass in gear," esstentially. For whatever reason, I need to learn these lessons, otherwise I fail. In more than just schooling.

In a way, I'm sort of glowering and muttering curses at God the same way I would mutter and curse at my father whenever he gave me a "sink or swim" lesson.

God: "Hey, Trinity, you know how to swim, right? Dive on in!"
Me: "Yeah, but the water's cold and I can't see the bottom. What if there's a snake or a gator or maybe it's too shallow to actually dive. What if I dive in and bust my head open?"
God: "Too cold? That's a lame excuse."
Me: "It is cold!"
God: "Well, maybe if you had time you could have slowly gotten used to the cold."
Me: "'Had enough time'?"
God: "Yep! Time's up! Gotta get moving on before it gets too late in the evening!"
Me: "But--GAH! PUT ME DOWN! I DUN WANNA--!"
God: "In you get!"
Me: "WAAAAAAAAAAH--!"

Sploosh.

...I get it. I get it. I got my feet wet--hell, I'm completely soaked.

Can you take it a bit easier on me now? It's too late in the year to go swimming like this, I hope you know.

*sighs*

So yeah...basically, I guess what I'm saying here is that I know why I'm getting so upset and depressed but it doesn't help the fact that I am feeling this way.

I guess this is what I get for admitting I want to excell, even though I also want to remain obscure.

You just can't excell at something without getting shoved in front of a crowded ampitheatre with eyes watching you critically, seeing what you will do. If you will succeed or not.

...as I've said before, I can't can't mess up. I can't fail.

Failure isn't an option for me.
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Okay. One thing I know I have to work through in order to get anywhere in life:

Working with other people and having people depend on me.

It's just not something I'm used to. Being with all the things that I've gone through in my school career, I've never really had to depend on anyone to get my grade. If I passed or fail, it was all me and my work. It's part of the reason why I hated doing those mandatory group assignments that came every now and again. But ever since I've gotten into college, I haven't really had a group assignment until this British Lit class--where pretty much all the assignments are group-work.

Damn...the best way to make sure that I have to work at something is by doing this to me. I have to think about the fact that there are others whose grade depends on my work and my ethics of working. And yet, it doesn't help at all because it throws me off so horribly.

And the worst thing is that I know this is a thing required by most jobs: You have to be able to be flexible and work with others. Teachers especially have to be able to stand having people depend on them so much, but then again, with teaching, there's also that certain level of "You have to do it on your own" that has to be taught to the students.

*rubs forehead* I just...don't like having other people depend on me. I don't want to have people look my way in order to get something done. If they want it done, they should just ask me and I will do it--by myself. Working with others...I'm just no good at it. Either it's the fact that I take the project on as my own and do it on my own with only a few words involved from the others, or they use me to their advantage and let me or make me work on my own.

Just...how does someone like me deal with this sort of thing? I might not survive this course if I'm going to continue like this but I don't know what else to do. I'm too paranoid and prideful to just let others do my work for me, but I also don't want them to look to me as a part of something like that.

I don't know what it means to be a part of something any more.

I don't know how to trust others enough to let them do what needs to be done.

I don't know how to trust myself not to let the others down and do what needs to be done.

What...should I do?



EDIT: Completely not related to the rant above: I just realized another thing.

I'm the third daughter to a seventh son.

...*puts face into hand and laughs* Why didn't I ever notice this before? No wonder all of those kinds of people always have something to say about me and my family and all of that crap. No wonder I'm so messed up. Third of the seventh...ahhhh...guess there's nothing for that then. In a way, it makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

Yes, I do know it's actually the seventh child of a seventh son that actually holds some significance but...no, I won't get into that. I shouldn't. It's 2AM...why haven't I just finished this damn assignment and headed to bed already?


EDIT 2: Why is it that I'm a night-owl when I know I just get more cynical and depressed the later the hour gets? It doesn't make sense and I hate putting people through the shit that I say or do during those times. Why anyone puts up with this, I have no idea. I never mean to drag people into my problems, and yet, there always seems to be someone there.

And yet I don't reach out. I don't call for help. Instead, all I do is look over my shoulder at them as I run as far away from them as I can, a grin on my face as I tell them, "I want to do something...something dangerous and maybe even fatal toward myself or maybe just my own mind. I want to do it...just to see if I'll survive. Even if I'm not in one piece, if I lose something along the way...as long as I survive, I couldn't care less what happens to me."

And then I turn and keep running as fast as I can...so I don't have to see the look on their faces--complete horror, disbelief, shock, whatever.

...makes me wonder why they would give me those looks. Isn't it always obvious? It's always the quiet ones that end up running off and doing those sorts of insane things, right? Maybe I'm not always quiet, maybe I'm not always silent--but aren't I often quiet about the things that probably should matter most? Except when it becomes too much? And by then...

Isn't it too late?


EDIT 3: Hands to my head but there's nothing to hide and nothing to see. Screaming my lungs out but there's no one to hear, nothing to say. Just letting go is hard enough on it's own but no one ever sees or ever knows. The control that goes on ever waking moment. The strict amount of self-control, of maintaining several images to keep everyone but the person that should matter most happy. Nothing will end but continue on and on because the control never relents. It will contrinue to hold captive those who can't let go, who can't let things be as they are and as they are meant to be. Don't be fooled by pretty or reassuring words coming from that supposedly smiling face. All words are controlled. What you hear is what is wanted to be heard. Nothing comes out. Nothing escapes.

...except through the cracks of the porcelain mask that is hard-put to stay in place. The hands to my face the only things keeping it there while people pull at me, trying to get me to let go, to let what lies beneath the mask breathe fresh air again. But what is there left under that mask except a creature afraid of being without this limitation?

What else is there behind that mask but a cowardly person who is too afraid to acknowledge the cracks in the mask where the clean air can reach them?


EDIT 4: That's it. I'm done for the night.

...and considering I know that there will be responses to this post--maybe... I don't think I'm going to respond to anything. Just...do as I normally do. Go on as if nothing ever happened.

Better this way, right? No waves. No issues. No one has to feel bad about anything.

Yeah. So.

Let's see if I can actually get some sleep tonight what with it being 3:42AM now.
.

It's really come to my attention...that a lot of us are struggling. To belong, to make a successful living, to just...live life for whatever comes for us...

And yet, whenever I seem to bring something up, there's a lot of people who seem to want to pile-on with hugs and comfort and while I myself appreciate the thought...what about the other people out there who don't have anyone to give them loves and hugs--real or not?

I really shouldn't think that way...I should keep focused on myself and worry for myself and where my path in life is...but see, that's the problem for me. I see no path. What path I do see is either from those made a couple of decades ago, which I can't really seem to escape even though I sometimes wish I can. This path has been over-grown with brush and thorns and I have to re-beat that path down--tame it in order to get through. And yet it doesn't really seem to bother me at all until my arm gets tired from having to whack at over-grown weeds or I just get tired of having to deal with those vines and thorns which seem intent on baring my path. Most of the time, I don't let it bother me because...well, I grew up next to a patch of woods. I'm well-used to travelling down open paths as well as beating my own.

But it's when I see others struggling along my path, trying to head in a different direction than me but still on my path for that moment in time, that I...just forget about whatever path I know is in front of me. I have to stop and help them tackle this particular stubborn patch of vines that are too green to easily tear down. And eventually, when they've thanked me for my help, they continue on their path--whether it's well-beaten or not, I have no idea, because I'm left standing on the path that I'd abandonned temporarially.

I'm left to continue on until I come across the next person in my journey.

And you know...sometimes I get help--maybe for the same reasons why I help them or maybe just because they want me to owe them a favor--I don't know. Either way, sometimes I keep running across one person, waving a hello as they cross my path and I theirs and...

It just seems kind of sad, how we're all lost in the woods and yet none of us really want to rely on one another until we run into each other.

But whatever the case, I'm happy to have met those people I've run across, who I later learned to leave behind, continuing with my journey, just so they won't leave me first, just so they won't have to see the sadness in me that comes when I've realized yet again that this person isn't the person I'm meant to journey with.

Just continue hacking away at the undergrowth, hoping to see the end of the woods before night falls again, but always just seeming to fall short of making it out on my own--even if that's not the case.

...ever wonder...ever realize how insignificant your own journey is compared to others who have goals? Goals that are feasible, that are admirable, that the other person is capable of carrying out?

- "Why do you walk through here?"
-- "Oh, I figured by walking through the rough path, I'll be strong for the times when I come across an obsticle in an open field. What about you? Why do you travel?"
- "...I don't know, but something tells me I have to."

Something tells me...I have to get moving again. Soon. It's that horrible pent-up feeling I've gotten before, but have had to bury underneath duty and obligation and education and social acceptance. This sort of...burning need to just...go somewhere for a while. To just walk, to just roam, to have no home except when I finally feel the need to stop walking and rest and wherever I stop...that'd be home...just for a little while.

The horrible thing is...that even though I haven't done this literally--even though I have a feeling I need to--I have been doing this in other ways. Going from one thing to another, and then maybe back again. Meeting people, calling them "home," and then heading off again with little more than a "I'll see you later."

I never seem to stay in one place too long. I always seem to move on. Pack up and move, stayed too soon, someone will get too close and then what can you do? You can't have tag-alongs, can you? But that's what you want, right? Company? But you don't want company you know will tire of you or say that they don't want to continue to walk anymore while you know that you'll always be walking, always be continuing through that patch of wood, hoping to find your way out and call it--really know it as "home."

I've done this with the people I knew in high school (though they seem to come back to haunt me), I've done with with childhood friends, I've done this with three groups of friends online, I'm probably in the process of doing this with Hellcon (though the majority of you keep tabs on me with this LJ of mine), and now I feel like I'm about to do it again with those who are my friends IRL. When was the last time I went and had fun with some friends like I did this past Spring?

I have no home, so I keep wandering. I have no home because home was taken from me 4 year ago. I have no home, but I have people who I've met, who would put me up for the night if I ask, only to have me abandon them continuously as time goes on.

...I stop to help people, I ignore my path even if for only a little while...because I want to make up for those people I've left behind, I think. And yet, it doesn't seem to do anything for me, because I'm still travelling alone. I'm still wandering, lost, but somehow knowing which way I should go, even if it's just a circle, even if I've seen that creek before...

I don't know why...anyone would put up with me, really. I don't understand why anyone would. "Because we're your friend," so say the ones that I'm leaving behind as I continue on.

...but what is a friend?

I wonder because...in the game of life--of survival...allies aren't friends. And allies are people you have near you in order to protect yourself, in order to strengthen yourself--just so long as you somehow do the same for them. But an ally...can easily become your enemy within a moment's time. You can never really and truly trust an ally...and I think that's what I've been doing as I've been travelling...

I don't feel like I've been making friends with people. I feel like I've been making allies--or at the very least acquaintances. I say this because...no matter how close some people are to me--they're never all that close.

I can't seem to trust anyone whole-heartedly, like they seem to trust me sometimes.

So I just...continue on alone, making allies and then leaving them behind, thinking we'd been friends--that we are friends.

...what kind of horrible person am I that I'm not more affected by this? I should be sad, right? About the thought that I don't feel like I've made any friends--not even with all the people I seem to know or hang around with. But no...instead, I just...feel that pressing need to continue on--leave them before they can do the same to me--that or betray me. And yet, they still keep taking me in when I need a place to stay for the night after a long day of travelling.

Still, why would anyone want to be friends with someone like that? I don't think I'll ever really understand.
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I don't know how much progress I've made since I've first started to actually talk about these sorts of things to people...but then again, maybe I haven't made any progress at all.

In English today, we discussed a lot of things...and one of the things we discussed was a good ol' chicken-before-the-egg debate.

What comes first? The troubled artist or their work?

In other words, does an artist make their pieces first and then become troubled? Or is the artist already troubled and thus makes their pieces as an outlet for these troubles?

I dunno...but either way, a lot of people agreed that when the case is that the troubled artist does things like write poetry, fiction, or make beautiful art--they do it as an outlet because the kind of people they are makes it almost impossible to admit to these sorts of feelings face-to-face with someone.

And maybe...my having an LJ and spilling everything onto the LJ and not having to worry about people who know me stumbling across it is just a way for me to avoid it. A way to say that I've dealt with it when I really haven't.

I dunno...maybe I haven't made any progress.

But I am trying.

You guys have to believe me.

Because if you don't...then what am I doing trying to improve myself for? Myself? Improve myself for myself? But why would I try to improve something that I don't really think I can really improve upon? Maybe there's a limit to how much I can do?

And if there is...

What am I struggling for?

Who am I struggling for?

Why am I struggling?

When can I stop struggling?

Just...

What's the point of my struggling...if I'm not going anywhere?
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So yeah...I totally crashed went I got back to my dorm last night 8D;;;

And it was like...maybe 10:30-11-ish?

I stayed in bed until like...12:50. XD;;; Then I dragged my carcus out of bed to get a shower and then I lazed around reading my two volumes of Imadoki that I got at Akon 16 >.>;;; Then I got lunch and...now I'm here :D I win all~

But yeah. Besides all of that...

I finally figured out why I kept getting upset/depressed/pissed/something negative during and after band rehearsals. And I realized this like...during Friday's rehearsal.

See, in our performance, the woodwinds are mostly in this HUGE arch at the back of the formation and...for some reason, the people standing on either side of me kept leaving this HUGE space between me and them while they were at a perfectly reasonable distance from the person on THEIR other side. I tried to get them to fix the problem, but they kept saying, "You're not a section leader," so...I ended up giving up and just tried to make sure that the huge spaces on either side of me were of equal length. *shrugs* What else could I do?

Anyway, why would this upset me?

Well...two reasons.

Remember that one post that I said: "Also there's another reason I was depressed, but eh...I don't want to talk about it. >.>;;; Some of you guys will probably laugh (and I know which ones, too >.>;;; Patting me on the head and going "Awww...it's okay Jeva~ See? There IS a reason you avoid the issue~" WHICH IS ENTIRELY BESIDE THE POINT! D:!). Well...I'm going to say what that other reason was because...uh...it had to do with this thing during band...>.>;;;

First, you'll need to be reading something I wrote a few weeks ago. I didn't post it because...uh...yeah. I thought I'd get those reactions that I said I knew I would get and uh...so I didn't >.>;;

( Epiphany of a sort? )

Bit frightening in a way. But as I said in that written-on-paper realization...I can't take my eyes away. And during band rehearsal earlier this week...I heard my section leader Elise talking about how soon someone would decide on next year's clarinet section leaders. Thing is though...a lot of the Seniors this year will be gone next year and all that will be left, it seems, are the people who came in around the same time I did--i.e. the Juniors of next year.

Now, I can't really help overhearing things like that, even though the huge space between me and the other clarinets should have made it more difficult. No idea why.

And of course...curiosity had me asking, "How are section leaders decided on?"

When Elise told me that she and our other current section leader would go in a meeting with JRob and the other two directors and go down the list, I just...felt this horrible sense of something dropping from my chest to my feet. I found myself thinking, "Well, there goes any chance I ever had. Especially if Elise and Kristi are the ones involved in that meeting. If JRob ever got around to my name, they'd say no because I had problems with authority or something like that. They'd mention about how all through last year and this year, I'd instruct others only to get told off for doing a section leader's job for them and--and--and--"

And just on and on until I just squatted down as JRob worked on setting up the brass and just...felt like either hitting my head against something hard or just cry. Horrible feeling, really.

And the second reason why this huge space made me feel badly?

When I was younger, that's what people would always do whenever we got into lines. They'd stand two feet away from me on either side. As if I were diseased. As if there was something wrong with me.

The easiest way to let a child known that they don't fit in, that their peers don't accept them...is to do something like this to them. Separate them from everyone else. Keeping a certain distance from them.

I don't know why they actually did it, though. Or why the clarinets started to do it during this performance (everyone had seem to be okay with being near me throughout the course of the other two performances). But whatever the reason...I don't care. The clarinets doing that...just kept bringing me back to my 6th grade year of school and...that, I must say, was the worst time in my life. My family can tell you...all during that year, I came home crying more often than not. That was the year I was being called "Kitty Litter" and "Coke-Bottle Glasses" and "Crustacean".

*shakes head* Of course, I know now why everyone called me those things. Hell, even at age 11 I knew why they called me "Kitty Litter" and "Coke-Bottle Glasses". I lived in a house with a lot of cats, so...yeah. And my glasses...my eyesight was so horrible and this is before they got that special lens where they could make them appear thinner. So...yeah. But whatever.

So yeah...part of the reason I've been so upset this past week is because of these things going on in band. *shakes head* I'm so weak to these kinds of things...I'm weak about facing my own past. One thought that brings me back to times like that...it just leaves me so angry and sad and depressed...


But yeah. it's all over now and I'm doing well. In fact, I'm quite cheerful today! I just wanted to...you know...mention all of this because it's been running around in my head like a squirrel in a cage. So yeah...ranty-like post!

And that's all for now, folks! ^___^!
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I plead temporary insanity.

Not to worry. I am currently handling my own punishment for making people worry and what-not. ...even if that's probably not the best way to go about things, a good self-ass-kicking will probably get me into shape again.

If you want to know what's up, please see the previous post. I don't feel much like talking about things because...well, jeez, it's not like I myself understand what's going on in my head.

I'm starting to think that I do have some problems...serious ones, but am I going to get help? ...uh...no.

Help would be much worse than what I'm doing now to get over things.

Besides, I've been doing better lately about my ups and downs, haven't I?

Mostly I think it's because I have until Novemeber 14th (17th? can't remember) until the end of this quarter. I'm feeling really burned out lately for some reason. I have no idea why. I've been focusing on getting more sleep, on doing my work...and I just feel so tired...so much more so than when I was at home this summer.

But I'll be fine. Like I always say: I always bounce back.
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To be honest, I don't want to make this post...I want to sweep it all under the rug and forget about it all.

But then again, if I don't make this post, the things that have been swept under that rug will just eventually build up to the point that there's no hiding it anymore.

So, I'll post.

I don't know if it's been very obvious, but in the last few days I've just been...out of it. More than just in the "I'm tired because I've only gotten less than 6 hours of sleep for about 3 days straight" way. I'm tired because of this, this is true, but...the reasons for why I haven't been able to sleep well lately...

They're my thoughts.

I can't turn them off.

And they're going in every direction at once.

And today didn't help at all.

Remember earlier this week when I ranted about running into Clint again in the cafeteria? Well, I ran into him again around 3 PM today, but I had my friends Kesley and Krystal (and Dominic who thought it would be fun to stare at the three of us from the other side of the window) to keep my mind off of him...for the most part.

...but I ran into him again around 6:30 PM when I went to get dinner.

And the whole time I sat at my booth, alone, a few tables away from Clint and his posse, I couldn't help but to feel more than a bit miserable. I kept thinking about actually literally running into him in the way where it would require words, I kept thinking about how he could (like so many others) ask me if I was okay (because oh do I look terrible), I kept thinking about how much I wanted to yell into his face, "WHY DO YOU CARE?!" before maybe bashing him upside the head with my tray and then stalking off.

None of that happened of course. It never happens. All in my head.

But it's not just that moment that's got me all torn up.

Since about 30 minutes before I went to the caf, I've had this horrible sense of something coming. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but whatever it is, it's something that will greatly change things and it terrifies and excites me--but more of the fear than the elation, really.

It's hard to explain it but there it is.

And of course I feel stupid for even trying to explain because after all, it's all in my head, isn't it? That's what people would tell me if I were to tell them something like this face-to-face...except for maybe my sisters...

But those two things aren't all of the things I want to touch on in this post...there're other things. Like...how it's possible for a person with a mental problem...or something akin to social retardation can know there's something not right about them. The one thing that annoys me most is when people say that "a crazy man who knows he's crazy isn't crazy." It's bullshit. A crazy person knows that they're crazy. A drunkard knows they're an alcoholic. A druggie knows they're doing something wrong. But they all continue on without reaching out for help, without admitting to others that there's something wrong.

A crazy person. A drunkard. A druggie. ...they're all parts to a whole really...the whole of these kinds of people who are too stubborn to admit something's wrong, the kinds of people who would rather die doing something they hate than having to admit that they were wrong the whole time.

I'm one of those people. I know I am...and even if commenting in my LJ about this may constitute as confessing to others that there's something wrong with me? It's bullshit. I'm not admitting anything to you guys. I'm still hiding behind a mask. And that mask is the internet, is distance. You guys can't come to get me, can't come to stop me, can't come to help me because of this distance.

This is why I'm able to make posts like this. I'm able to tell you all that there is something wrong with me, that I know there's something wrong, and that I won't do anything about it except for keep it under a mask so that the people who are near me? They won't see it unless I allow them.

None of them seems to get it.

And probably some of you are thinking, "Damn it, Jeva, if you think you can avoid me like you claim you're doing, I won't let you!"

...oh really?

Haven't some of you already let me stop going into chats, let me stop communicating with you for months on end, let me stop just...being there?

I told everyone that I would pull away--several times I've said this and it seems like just like the people who know me IRL--NO ONE IS LISTENING.

...and maybe a few of you are really listening, seeing, and understanding. I don't know. You're probably thinking to yourself that I'm being bitter, that I only do this because I'm avoiding, because I'm scared--fuck yeah, I'm scared.

I don't know about how any of you grew up to realize the things around you, but let me explain myself in a metaphoric sense.

When I was a child, I grew up in a small, dark room, huddled in the corner, eyes clamped shut, ears blocked by my hands, lip bitten by my teeth. I didn't hear, I didn't see, I didn't talk. I was the quiet one. I don't make a fuss. I couldn't. All I could do was cry and even then everyone hated me when I cried. So I stopped...and I screamed against those who yelled at me to shut up, I unblocked my ears to hear their words--hateful and loving alike. But now I'm sitting in the dark, in that small room, scared to open my eyes, scared to stand up and leave that dark room.

I hate the dark. I don't like it. But I'm more afraid of what I will see if I come out of those shadows, allow myself to see.

And I've said these things before. I've gotten those kind, soothing words, "It's okay to be afraid. Change is scary, but we all have to live with it." But now as time goes on and I keep hearing other kind things--more kind things than bad things, I can't help but to think a lot of those kind things that are being said are lies.

"You're smart." If I am so goddamned smart, would I still be sitting in this dark room, too scared to even breathe properly?

"You're kind." If this is true, why do I keep suspecting everyone is out to hurt me?

"You're beautiful." How can I be this when I haven't seen the sun in so long?

"You're a leader." I am a coward. A leader isn't a coward. A leader leads. They continue on even when they want to drop. Yes, I have that kind of stubborness in spades--even to the point of risking dehydration yesterday when Patrick offered me water because I was so thirsty and I hadn't eaten. A leader doesn't do stupid things like I've been doing. I'm a coward. Call me what I really am! Stop lying to me!

...maybe some of you will think, "I'm not lying! I'm only saying what I really think!" But is that really true? I know some of you have told me when I touched on the thought of manipulating my friends that you wouldn't be near me if you didn't want to be, but sometimes I really wonder about that.

Why would someone want to be near someone who doesn't listen to them? Why would someone want to be near someone who won't--who can't even look at them when they're speaking? Why would someone want to be near someone who thinks that their own friends will eventually leave them? Why would someone want to be near someone who ditches their friends before they can be ditched? Why would anyone want to be near someone who takes all that they are given and gives nothing back in kind!

...and I'm just...so tired of being like this...but I don't move. I don't listen...I don't do anything to make this easier on me.

Maybe it is masochism in a way. I have friends who were cutters, who were burners...but what's really worse? A masochist who let's their injuries show?--even if they try to hide those places they hurt themselves at, they can be found eventually. Or someone who doesn't let those injuries show?--not doing anything to reveal that there's something wrong, that the person is cutting into themselves over and over because it's all--in--their--head.

...I don't know what's worse.

I frankly don't care.

I want to just...stop for a little while.

I want to just lay down and be able to sleep undisturbed for a few hours--without dreams, without thoughts, without the fear of the dark pressing into me.

But I don't.

I can't.

If I stop...then I'll always be in that small room.

But I want to.

I just want things to stop--just for a little while.
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I've relearned something about myself.

I hate the classroom setting--especially the large classroom setting.

And I dunno why it bugs me so much--well, actually I do know why.

In the classroom setting, there's no time to ask your questions, because everyone has to get a chance to ask theirs and when there's 20+ people in the room, this might mean you might not even get the chance to even make a comment on one of the questions.

And I hate that. I despise it.

I grew up with my dad encouraging me to always ask questions, even if people thought I was a nuisance. And I would ask so many questions as a kid--I still ask a lot of questions. I like asking questions and I like having them answered--but I don't want just an answer. When I ask a question, I expect an explanation, a debate, and...I dunno...discussion on the things I ask.

This is why I get a bit upset and sad whenever people don't comment on some posts on my LJ--the ones asking questions. I hate not being able to get an answer and I hate not being able to have a discussion.

And in my English class, no matter how fun and up-beat it can be, it's exactly that way. I can't ask my questions or get the class into a discussion because then it would be taking up valuable classtime, then people would get mad because they're not getting their proper education like they want.

Several times in class today, I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking something or from challenging something or from even just commenting on something. Hell, the discussion of "traditions that have lost their purpose" came up, and someone brought up Mardi Gras and I was ready to just tell them that Mardi Gras was not just drinking and partying while showing off your tatas on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. But Mrs. O waved her hand at me when she saw my mouth open and I had to sit there and just...grit my teeth and bare it when I had to listen to people who didn't know the true purpose of Mardi Gras say what they thought it was.

...it's not that I hate ignorance--I only hate it whenever I feel ignorant. But whenever someone doesn't know something, I feel that need to tell them, to educate them, to inform them of what it is they don't know, and sitting in a classroom...argh. I hate it. I've constantly been reprimanded since I was little by teachers about doing their jobs for them. It's not like I mean to blurt out those things!

And just bringing that up makes me remember how Mrs. LeJeune (my English IV AP teacher in high school) would stare at me with her mouth opened a bit and her head tilted to the side, saying, "Excuse me...I do believe this is my class," in a way where it sounded more surprised and maybe a bit offended than truly upset or anything.

And yeah...shame of that moment floods me and I'm doing it in my English class now-a-days.

...

*rubs eyes* I can't deal with the classroom setting. This is why I space out, so I don't have moments like those, blurting out answers and repsonses when the question was directed toward the teacher. Smaller classes are easier to deal with because they usually involve people who actually want to learn and who actually know what to discuss and such--they're more willing to listen to peers whenever they have an opinion or something, and the teacher is more lenient about letting the students talk it out.

I just...fail at the classroom setting.

...guess it's back to writing stories during discussion hour. *sigh*
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Yes, this is one of my babbling, introspective posts. Don't like 'em? Skip on ahead! I tend to forget about LJ cuts in these sort of things, so...yeah. Not sorry for your f-list, just keep scrolling and don't mind this post at all...unless you like looking into the mind of a person who has NO IDEA what they're trying to say. Then, by all means, keep reading...maybe you'll learn something, ne?






Yesterday I admitted to not letting myself be myself.

...sadly, I've come to realize how true this is.

Ever since I was little, I've never really FIT IN with my peers. ...hell, even in my own family, I never really quite fit in, maybe. I was always the one that was teased and made fun of. Dunno what it was that made me such the target...maybe it was my sensitivity, but when I was little, I tried everything to try to fit in.

I think I've mentioned this before.

I developed the habit of a procrastinator to keep my grades at an average level so that people couldn't pin me as a know-it-all. I desensitized myself so that I wouldn't cry when I was upset--unless I was really upset, and even then, I would cry quietly and where no one could realize what I was doing. I've developed a habit of getting online whenever I can because I don't have to be called by my real name there, thinking that maybe it was because of my name that I was being treated differently.

...needless to say, all of these things haven't done a thing for my goal and most of these things that I did mostly hurt myself more than it hurt others.

And it's because of all of this trying-to-fit-in thing that I had that...small breakdown yesterday.

Ever since I can remember, I've adapted myself to where I can fit in anywhere I go...I essentially change my behavior, my attitude, and my personality according to whoever I'm around. At home, I'm quiet, out of the way, sometimes more depressed than not. At college, I'm noisy, ready to go off at a moment's notice, happy and bouncy for the most part. Even online, I'm almost the same as I am at college but a little less level-headed and reality-grounded, I think, maybe.

There's all these faces and masks I put on for other people that sometimes I can't tell which is part of the real me and which is what I made up along the way to make sure I wouldn't be thought of as the odd one out. And this...really saddens me, really.

Sometimes...I just don't WANT to pretend anymore...but half the time I don't know if I'm pretending for other people's sakes, my own sake, or if this is really who I am. It's...very confusing and a bit maddening, especially when I have days like yesterday...where I'm upset, know that I am, and yet I kept denying that I was to a friend of mine in IM until they SAID I was upset. Then I only caved in enough to admit I was upset. I wouldn't let everything out to them, and I think I maybe upset them by not opening up more...which I knew would happen either way...like...either I would confess to every negative thing that was running through my head and they would feel upset because they couldn't think of anything to help, or I wouldn't say much but enough to make them still wish they could do better to help me...

And it's that kind of situation that really makes me see that I am still trying to make myself not behave a certain way just so I can please others.

...but really...I've said this before, too: I feel most at peace with myself whenever I can help others...make them happy, make them feel good about themselves, helping them learn and grow...those are the things I live for.

...but there's just no way a person can actually do those sorts of those things if they really can't stand the sight of their own negative aspects, right? So I'm left in a bit of confusion...I want to help others, but I can't help others before I help myself. It's counter-productive and it'll only do more harm than good (just love it when people play the hypocrite card on me, lolz). But still...I don't want to look at those parts of me...after hiding them away for so long...I'm a bit scared that they might have mutated or something~

I say I don't mind not having the spot light...that letting others have it is something I'm more than glad to do...but sometimes when I have moments like yesterday...I have to wonder if this is true. I do want my friends to do good--sometimes I even want them to be better than me, surpass me in their abilities and goals, but then again, there's still that selfish side of me that doesn't want to be passed-up like I'm nothing more than a bump in the road...because that's what it feels like sometimes when I hear from people that I knew a long time ago...

Sometimes, I have this niggling thought that all of my actions should have some sort of lasting impact on the people I interact with...but then again, I sometimes see myself disappearing from these people's minds...like I'm a phantom of a memory, as if I can just come into their life and then leave without so much as a smiggen of a thought left in their mind about me...

So which is worse? Being remembered as a person who did a little thing that maybe doesn't have that much significance? Or not being remembered at all?

Haa~ Something tells me that either way, it would probably not be me they're remembering or forgetting, but another mask that I wear so that I could fit in for that one small moment in time.

...I always say that I've given up on trying to fit in, but ahahaha~ I think I've been lying to myself about that, too. I see a group of people having fun and try and try to get into that group, so I can take part in the fun, too. So that I won't be the outsider looking in...and even if I do make it in? I still act like the outsider looking in...



And I've really lost track of what I'm trying to say. Sorry 'bout that...I just don't have very solid thoughts, really...and writing up whatever comes along? Meh...isn't exactly as helpful as one would think.

But don't worry~ I'm not depressed or in that apathetic or cynical mood I can get in...I've just been...thoughtful.
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So...who had a bit of a mental break-down last night?

Yup, you guessed right!

...though, to be honest...looking back, I can't really see why the hell I ended up basically sobbing after that little spat with my sister. *siiiiigh* I think I've repressed most of it because...yeah...it's very...not clear at the moment--the hurt feelings and all of that. I can remember the majority of what was said...

Basically, it all added up to the fact that my sister kept hitting those buttons that I hate to be pushed.

1) She pointed out how much of a chicken-shit (not her term...I admit freely that I am, indeed, very much a chicken-shit--she just called me "overly sensitive"...which works, too) I am.
2) During the fight, I declared that this was probably going to be my last summer at home and she retorted, "That's what you said last year!" Hit number two--can't remember ever saying that last year, but what if I did and I did end up coming back home? What does that say about me, running home to mommy and daddy when little Trinity first gets out into the real world?
3) I irritably suggested to Mom to give her a Bennadryl (sp?) or something so that sister could be knocked out because she had school in the morning and it was around 1 AM and she kept coming into my room and ugh...sister snidely asked, "So is that what you do up at college when you can't sleep?" No, dear sister of mine, I go to classes with only an hour and a half of sleep and anyway, HOW COULD I AFFORD ANY SORT OF DRUGS, YOU BRAT?!

...yeah, as you can probably guess...the drug joke didn't go off very well for me and I...got violent and threw my contact solution bottle (which is mostly empty) at her. It ended up hitting one of those soft spots on her head and she was yelling about it as if I could SEE where I was aiming (hi~ I'm blind when I don't have my contacts in--excuse me for having poor aim).

...then she finally left the room...and...I broke down.

Best Mom could say as she sat there on my futon with me crying like I was? "Trinity, don't."

...oh, that's beautiful. I'm not allowed to cry. Never was~ I've used up all rights I have to tears when I was little, apparently! No crying allowed for Trinity because she was a crybaby when she was a little girl! People always tell me it's okay to just let it all out, but here's one of my parents telling me not to--so what the hell am I supposed to do instead?

Wish people would make up their minds about what I can and can't do.

Best just to...not doing anything, I guess.

But yeah...inferiority complex and...other stuff came out to play last night. Boohooed to Momma that everyone thought I wasn't going to make it, that I'm a screw up, that I can't do anything right or on my own, that I'm stuck in this place that I haven't been able to get out of for ages...and just on and on...until Mom ended up leaving.

...it even got to the point where I turned off the TV and lay in the dark...I guess to punish myself in a way...because I hate the dark. I'm scared of it and I hate it and ahaha~ what a stupid thing to be scared of! Something that I can't see~ But I only left the TV off for like...5 minutes top. And that was it.

But yeah...I'm better today. >.> Just...needed to clean out the air and...stuff. Plz to be hoping that the next few weeks will be without these sort of things...



EDIT: Best thing about all of this? These sorts of things aren't even worth being considered a real problem really. Because, I mean...I'll eventually get away from all of this and then I won't have to remember any of it if I don't want to...and it's not like I do anything while I'm at home (except for those chores I have to do now that Mom can't), and...yeah.

...I dunno...I just looked at my F-list and saw some other people having problem with their life, but it just seems more...important and less childish or less stupid that my problems are and...yeah...

...maybe I should just stop updating whenever I have these sorts of break-downs because...yeah...they don't last long, they're not about anything really important, and...I dunno.

...I think I'll just...stop commenting here now.

I should learn not to talk about education or learning or...stuff like that. :\ It never leaves me in a happy mood, it always ends up making me feel stupid, ignorant, or just...a hopeless cause.

And I know no one wanted me to feel that way, and I told everyone I would be okay, that it's...an issue I have. And it is.

But I really need to get it out whenever I feel it. About this sort of thing, I'm tired of bottling myself up.

I'm not stupid.

I know this.

I'm not a hopeless case.

I know this as well.

But what's going to get you further in life? Knowing a little about a lot? Or having an area of expertise?

...somehow, I'm thinking it's the latter.

...if I do excell at anything...it would probably be psychology and the understanding of people's thoughts, acts, behaviors, etc...and that's only because I was an empathetic child and I'm a people-watcher.

...so what am I doing? What path am I following? Which way's left again? I can't see the road anymore--how the hell am I going to get to travel the world like I want? Like I need to do if the one thing I fear is the one thing I excell at?

*sighs in frushtration*

...you know...I'll figure it out eventually. But right now...I just need to stop thinking.

Too bad I inherited so many of my dad's genes.

Not thinking isn't an option for me.
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Okay. So. I am at constant odds and ends with religion and beliefs and churches and...stuff.

But now I'm looking back at the old entries of mine in old journals and blogs and I see that I myself having typed out or written the words "I believe in God and I believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of God" and I'm left completely baffled because...I don't remember actually feeling that I actually believed these things.

Because now I've been telling people recently, "Yes, I'm pretty sure there is a God, but whether or not he actively influences us is up to debate and whether there was a Jesus or not isn't a debate--there was a Jewish man named Jesus who claimed he was the Son of God. What can't be proven is his divinity, so I think I'll wait for a sign until I start believing."

So is it that I've just been following the crowd again? I believed in God and Jesus because everyone I knew believed in them? Is it just because I wanted to satisfy my Catholic mother? Or is it that I really did believe in those things but something happened--something changed within me to make me into a skeptic?

...I dunno...I'm just...kind of confused. This is part of the reason I don't dig into the past. I see these things that I did or said...and they either disgust me or leave me bewildered. I was such an idealistic child that it makes me wonder how on earth I survived this long in my life--but then again, no I don't. I love life too much to let it go...I say it all the time and I've yet to think otherwise.

But yeah...there's also this thing that I wrote in my old Xanga...which I haven't touched since 2005, and that was only to tell people who read my Xanga (i.e. no one) that I wouldn't post on there anymore.

Still...I dug around on my Xanga today...and I saw a December entry that left me a little...without words of what to say in argument against what I posted. Except for the line of believing in Christ as our Lord and Savior, most of the things I wrote there...I'm still afraid of and still sort of believe...if not as openly or even as clearly as I understood it then.

...I think I'll just copy and paste the entry here.

( Xanga Entry )

...and that truly is why I don't look back--why I hate looking back. But I have to look back...have to check myself against past transgressions and things I've done and said. I say that I live the life of a person who keeps going without looking back, but I do. Mere glances--seeing only small things out of the corners of my eyes--but that shadow of doubt is always there...dogging my heels.

And I hate seeing that shadow. Hate knowing it knows I see it and knows that I fear it. I hate the fact that I actually do look back even as I keep going ahead, pushing on, without stopping.

...I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore...maybe it's simply this:

I don't know what I believe in more: Angels or Demons.

Angels would be so easy to believe in if they weren't always portrayed as saintly and never-wrong because they're the servants of God. Everything has to have flaws, right? Or are angels exceptions to that because they were created before humans and they never went against God's word--until the Morning Star, Lucifer, that is. And they only appear when a miracle occurs...or when God has a message--which hasn't happened in so long, or at least hasn't not been taken as a mental illness in so long...

Demons...can be easiest to believe in. Dark thoughts, negative emotions, all those murderous thoughts and intent that comes along with their touch--they could all be blamed on demons. My mother's quite fond of saying our family has demons--that that was why we now live in such a shithole and why we'll never get out. Demons are easier to see, also. They have no qualms about being noticed. They like to cause chaos, instigate evil, bring about fear--that's why they come whenever people are at their lowest points.

...whether or not I believe in either...the fact remains that I believe in something and something is dogging my steps. I know they are, I can still hear their footsteps close behind me. It scares me to think that all my movements are the result of that person's dealings. That if I succeed, it's only because they allowed it--if I failed, it was only because they wanted it that way.

Everytime I look up, I don't see sun, I see rain. I used to see that sun so easily--used to be able to cheerfully go on without worry, knowing that I was protected, but now I'm not. I don't feel protected, I feel vulnerable--almost as if I've been tossed out for the wolves to have at.

...I don't know if this makes any sense at all.

Bascially, in short...I'm so very lost and confused in the matter of religion. I used to say I believed...but now...I don't know.
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I...have been reminded of a few things.

And I hate myself for remembering.

Life's so much easier when you're just oblivious.

Then again...it passes you by that much quicker.

To those I haven't really spoken to in a while:

I'm sorry.
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