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Red thread

Every time I listen to a song about love or heartache or missing someone...I think about him. Him, the fisherman. Not the ghostboy.

Scythe

I had so many dreams last night. Probably because I forgot to take my meds yesterday. Currently feeling the effects of withdrawal. Anyway, the first dream I had really moved me, and when I "woke up" (in quotations because I was only half awake), I knew that I wanted to remember it so that I could write it down. And/or tell someone about it. But I would fall back asleep and have another dream, usually of me trying to tell people about the first one, and then I'd wake up again, and so on and so forth. Eventually the dreams became incredibly convoluted that the original is nearly gone. So I need to write it down before I fully wake up. If I wake up, I'll forget.

~~~


I was or felt alone in a fractured universe. The world was made up of polygon shapes, red, blue, or purple. Mostly red. Walls and halls and bottomless pits and wide, open spaces and castles and cities made of red polygons under a purple-red sky that itself was a ceiling of patched-together shapes. A great evil was here. It was physically enormous, but not physically there. Only sometimes. Tall and black and hunched over and grinning with evil, pointed teeth like a sinister Eva, a behemoth. But I couldn't see it. I was far away from it. But I could feel it. Perhaps it wasn't evil. Perhaps it was just the harbinger of the end of the universe. But I was alone and probably afraid and powerless. I didn't know that it was an entity but I could feel its effects, smothering, suffocating. Alienating.

But then I felt him. I was not alone. His presence came closer and closer. He could move very fluidly and quickly, like an acrobat in the sky. He couldn't fly but he could leap and twist and vault. He was beautiful. He was dressed in black leather and his hair was shockingly white despite appearing youthful. From his arms came real/not-real blades, ethereal, that could slice through the influence of the harbinger, defeat it. I watched him, in awe, in admiration, in affection. He lighted down near me and I met his eyes and I felt that he and I were the same. I wanted to be near him, connect with him, but he had his walls and his eyes were that of someone far older than the twenty years his body suggested. His face was carefully closed and guarded even as I knew he acknowledged our sameness, not sharing my desire to connect with me. But it was his duty, because we were not alone. There were others in this world, though not many, and if we could not fight, we would forget them. I would forget them. These others, my cousins, my family, my friends, whom my affection for spread outward from me in a warm tide that painted the world red. It was already red.

I asked the young, white-haired man who he was. He said he was, "Scythe."

Scythe and I worked together. He taught me how to fight like him and he also learned how to improve his own fighting as the days and years passed where we traveled and fought the harbinger's influence and found others like us and learned that each one who was like us, each fighter, had a perfect partner, one they could work flawlessly and seamlessly with, with whom they had a deep, emotional connection and whom they would be together with always.

Of course I wondered if Scythe was my true partner. I hoped he was. I loved him. I loved him so much.

But he maintained his distance. Even though I knew he acknowledged me and took care of me he could not lower his guard and he would not reciprocate the affection I showed him in the tiny, rare moments of peace we found. We did not sleep, we did not breathe. So much time passed. Lifetimes. I felt as though we lived and died and lived and died and lived again, each time stronger than before.

Always I was with him, always I chased him, always I fought with him, though he was always stronger, more capable, and accomplished more than me.

The world was unraveling. The shapes and polygons began to tear away from the seams, off shapes floating impossibly and in different directions. The universe rotated and pieces of it faded in and out. And the harbinger appeared. Scythe and I fought it. Scythe was beautiful, moving around the harbinger with ease, dodging death left and right, slicing at its tendrils and cutting off pieces of it, weakening it, foiling it. I tried to help, ineffectively. I was losing. Becoming less aware. They were fading, fading, as the universe broke apart around me.

I lost them. There was nothing.

There was nothing for a long time, I felt. But I was waiting. Waiting with the last remnants of the world floating around me, trapped in a tiny, ethereal box, where I was meant to wait. Wait.

After some time, I felt him. His presence. Stronger than ever before. Like he was really with me, like the walls inside of him were gone.

He was there but he was not there. I could not see or touch him. But I could "see" him. Somehow. I could see the person, the human, he once was, hundreds, maybe thousands of years before. The boy he was before he was Scythe. And around us, I knew it was over. This world was done. It was time.

Scythe's form, the form without the walls, smiled at me, peacefully, affectionately. He was younger than I'd thought, as human. He had long, crimson hair, but the same, pale eyes. A simple shirt and jacket.

I basked in his presence for as long as I could, because I knew this was goodbye. Desperately, know I only had a few seconds left with him, I asked, "What is your name?" His name. His real name.

"Leon," he answered, and I felt closer to him than ever before.

"Were you my Partner?"

"No." He knew this would sadden me, so he maintained his soft, kind smile.

He was fading, see-through. "Did you love me?" I needed to know.

"Yes."

We were granted but a moment to share in the knowledge of our love for each other, to love and be loved, before he, I, and the universe faded away.

I was in a living room with my aunts and uncles, but not all the way there, yet. My cousins, they were all waiting for me to remember. A form of an incorrect shape lay on the floor, and slowly, I put the shattered pieces of my mind back together. "You're...Katie," I said to the shape.

"Yes." And suddenly she was there, smiling, freckled and brown-haired, in her dress for special occasions. And Ben and Travis were there, and we all knew my mind was healed, and we went outside and walked and talked together.

But Scythe...Leon was not there, did not exist in this universe, and the hole his absence made in my chest weighed more heavily on me than any happiness with my cousins could make up for.

~~~


This is as close to accurate to the original dream as I can get. Subsequent dreams probably irreparably warped it. But I'm glad I wrote it down because it'll only get more warped with time.The following dream was of these events being an anime, and watching it at anime club, and the final episode being so amazing it made up for the meh-ness of the rest of it. I grabbed Sheldon by the tie and shook him because it was so amazing.

In the next dream, I tried to tell my cousins and my brother about it, but my brother was playing a game kind of like Spore, and he was trying to fend off enemy alien empires, but he only had one planet and was progressing slowly. His planet destroyed him eventually, though, because there was only one animal species and it ate everything. And I said, "If you only had to make one animal, why the fuck did you make TRIFFIDS?!" I suggest radar-jamming bugs, but then the bugs crawled all over everything, including me, and I hated it and was afraid and screaming.

Next dream: instead of aliens advancing on a planet, anti-semetic Russians and the United States were at war, and bombing each other. America was losing and the Jews were dying. Peter Griffin was there was got captured in a missile. The Russians turned him into a living weapon and he shot spikes and projectiles out of him whenever in proximity to other Americans. They were American-seeking and there was no escape. The world was slowly being destroyed by the impossible-to-escape weapons and the only people that were safe were the ones inside the high-altitude aircraft. But they would eventually die, too, because there was nowhere to return to.

Not really sure what to make of these dreams; maybe I'll have more insight when I'm more awake.

That face when...

...the only soul you ever felt was just like yours resides in an elderly Japanese man whom you struggle to understand because of the his thick accent and whom you haven't seen in two years but whom had started developing Alzheimer's and is probably completely far-gone or dead by now.

Morning

The next morning, we sat on the kitchen floor and talked for hours, about whatever came to mind, but mostly psychology. My hair was disheveled and my clothes wrinkled, and he was in his plaid pyjama pants. Everyone else was still sleeping. We spoke quietly, careful not to wake them. Smiles never left our faces. The hard floor was making my legs fall asleep, but I didn't mind. Words flowed easily and carefree from my mouth. Even outside was a quiet morning.

When another entered the kitchen later, I was disappointed.

The Indians that stole my bride

Had a pretty intense dream last night. What a surprise! *insert sarcasm here* I don't really know how to start. But here we go...



I think it started with me hanging out with Séan. Or trying to. We were walking around downtown somewhere. But there was this other guy, Séan's friend, who joined us, and I was annoyed because Séan was paying all of his attention to that guy and hardly talking to me at all. We boarded a city bus, and they sat together, and I sat in the seat in front of them. They chatted happily away, and I tried, fruitlessly, to interject. Somehow, wordlessly, I challenged the new guy. We started tickling each other. I was determined to win. If I defeated him, Séan would acknowledge me again. But I was more ticklish than he was and I knew I was losing.

But then, out the bus windows, I saw a wedding procession going by. I knew it was Ashley's wedding. She was having an arranged Indian marriage. I watched the procession and became annoyed that the flower girl wasn't at the front scattering flowers like she was supposed to. I was about to disembark to go do it for them, but then I saw the flower girl run up and resume her task. Grudgingly, I sat back down and watched the rest of them go by. Everyone looked so happy. They were all Ashley's husband's family, smiling and waving joyously and laughing with one another. Ashley's family was absent. When Ashley walked by beside her husband, her eyes were downcast and sad, not sharing in the joy with everyone else.

Her husband's family was very powerful and influential, so while they did publicly parade around like this, no one else was actually invited to the wedding itself. Knowing this, I ditched Séan and snuck into the church. I wanted to make sure Ashley was okay.

I found her alone in the back room getting ready for the ceremony. She was glad to see me, but still very sad, like a great weight was crushing down on her. I followed her into the bathroom and she ran water to fill the tub. It filled the tub and the rest of the room partway, too. We sat in the warm water. I looked over at her tiny, naked figure, watched her eyes stare sadly at her knees.

When I asked her if she really wanted to marry this guy, she didn't answer. I looked at her very carefully and said, "If you don't want to get married, you don't have to." She just shook her head, looking pained. I didn't want her to be with someone she didn't want to be with. I didn't want her to be unhappy with a spouse she didn't love. I almost said, "Marry me instead." But a voice in my brain stopped me by asking, "Hold on a minute. Do you want to marry her? Would you really be okay with that?" Realizing I did not know the answer, I instead said nothing.

I still wanted to help, though, but before I could come up with something, the groom's family discovered I was there and threw me out. They trapped me in a massive department store, alone with one of the groom's brothers. He was going to kill me. We chased each other around the store, occasionally getting different power-ups. I finally got some that let me move more quickly and stealthily; he was so huge and scary that I knew fighting him head-on would get me killed in a second. So I tried to trick him. I made a deal with him, feinted leaving, but then circled back around. But he expected this, and when he saw me come back, he smiled a huge, dangerous smile.

I did the only thing I could think of. I tried to be friendly. At this point, there were others with us. None of them knew we were fighting, but were also trapped in the department store. The groom's brother and I exchanged jovial remarks, all the while ready to spring at any given moment underneath. The others were completely oblivious to this, and just thought we were the best of friends.

I finally convinced him to let me go off alone. I had to go find things that would help me free Ashley. There were probably things I could use in the department store, but I wanted out. So I ran off all the way to Berwick. I dodged behind trees and stayed away from people, 'cause I was afraid if they saw me they'd send me back to the department store. I met someone else who was on the run, and we teamed up. We snuck into a kitchen. We were caught, but pretended to be new waiters so they wouldn't know who we were. We were terrible at our "job", though, and after breaking a few dishes too many, we were sent back to the kitchen and made to stand in front of the head of the kitchen staff, Matt the chef. Matt scolded us, but then recognized me. Hoping this friendly face would support me, I told him about Ashley and how upset I was she was being forced into this marriage.

Matt shook his head sadly. "Poor Ashley," he said. "It's really a shame, but she doesn't have much time, and marriage was one of the things she always wanted."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. I felt dread creeping over me.

"That illness of hers. The doctor said she'd only live for another six years."

What?! This was news to me. I had to get back there. Like, now.

My new friend and I left the kitchen and ran through the woods back towards the city. Jackie Chan joined us and wanted to help. He was going to make it easier for us by knocking down some trees. We watched him to a fancy flip-kick, but he only ended up hurting himself. "You're not as young as you used to be, man," my new friend said, as we stared, unimpressed. Jackie gave up that endeavor and the three of us continued running. We found a treehouse and inside, I found some things I could make fire with. I could probably use these to help Ashley somehow, but then I thought back to the department store. Damn, it really would have been easier if I had just looked for things in there. But it was too late to be upset about that, now.

We kept running. I heard a fly start buzzing around my head. I batted it away but it persisted. It got louder and louder. I shook my head vigourously, but it flew into my ear.



I woke up shaking my head. The sound of the fly had actually been my fan. It took me several minutes to fully believe there was no fly in my ear.

I immediately texted Ashley and gave her the short version of the dream. XD She was very amused. And promised that if she ever got that sick, she'd tell me. :P

So there you have it. I'm glad I take the time to write these particularly vivid dreams down. Sometimes I like to revisit them and think about them. Writing them down like this helps me remember them, too.

Welp, it's super late and I'm sleepy. -__- So I guess it's bedtime, now. Byebye. *waves*
It's been a long time since I had a dream as vivid and emotional as the one I had last night. So I'm glad I had it. I missed having them. I feel like my dreams are my brain expressing itself in a really raw form, so I like thinking about the dreams I have. Even the disturbing ones.

This dream in particular heavily featured some of the characters from Psycho-Pass and Psycho-Pass 2, which is arguably my favourite anime series ever. So that was pretty cool.

I'm struggling to remember exactly what order things happened in, but...here we go.


I was myself in the dream, though I often saw the dream through the eyes of the other characters. I was a member of the police force. The others on the force were the ones from PP2, and Kogami was gone. We went about doing our job, but it felt...bleak. We did our job well, but Akane seemed...depressed. Not necessarily sad, but definitely not her usual cheerful self. She was very quiet, did her job with no more words than necessary. Kogami's absence weighed heavily on her. But it wasn't just her. Everyone felt empty, not completely like themselves.

I think we started to question the nature of the justice system we used. Or, Ginoza did, at least. It happened when we were investigating something really weird. We got the crime under control, or caught the bad guy or whatever, and when we were investigating the scene afterwards, Ginoza saw a couple of things in one place he could have sworn had been a few feet to the side just a few minutes ago. He was confused, but then kind of laughed and told Togane to stop messing with him. Togane just threw him a disgusted look and told him he didn't know what he was talking about. Realizing that no one really had moved the things, Ginoza started thinking there was some kind of "glitch" in reality. A little later, at headquarters, he broached the subject with everyone. He suggested that there might be a parallel, alternate reality, nearly completely overlapped with ours, and that the glitch was making it known to us. Shimotsuki yelled at him for saying something completely stupid. Everyone else was quiet.

Akane, however, gave it some thought. They didn't know what happened to the criminals they brought. Could that have something to do with the "glitch", too? Could the criminals be being chucked into that parallel reality, like garbage?

...Is that where Kogami had disappeared to?

Akane later told Ginoza she thought his theory was plausible, what with all the weirdness going on around us. They decided to investigate together. I went along with them. We found a place where the criminals were taken, and followed it. It was a pit of some kind. We went down, and landed on a pile of bodies in a cold, dark room. Around us were ghosts. The ghosts were feeding on the dead souls of the corpses. Around us, there were other tables with bodies on them, with ghosts all gathered around those, too. We were horrified. We ran outside and slammed the door behind us.

We looked around. The place where we were looked almost exactly like out town, but something was off. It wasn't quite right. After looking around, some, we found out that "we" existed here, too. Not us, but another "us". Alternate us. Slightly different personalities and not the same jobs. I found "me" and then suddenly we were one person, and I felt whole again. Perhaps these alternate us's, these ghosts, were the parts of us we were missing, whose absence was making us feel lost and void.

I got separated from Akane and Ginoza. But I found Kogami. He was shadowing his other self. His other self was kinder, laughed more easily, was polite and held a job the "real" Kogami would have thought was really boring. I watched him follow him into a coffee shop. I was worried about what would happen if the two of them interacted, but in the coffee shop, Kogami made a show of being slightly rude to get his other self's attention, and they ended up sitting together and talking, along with one of the employees there. I got his attention somehow. I knocked on the glass or I waved at him or something. I wanted him to know we were here and that I knew he was here, and that he wasn't alone anymore.

I couldn't stay, though. I had to run and find the others. Akane and Ginoza were back at that prison with the ghosts and the corpses. It seems the ghosts were the criminals of this reality. But that these ghosts, and all the alternate people of this place, were all somehow connected to our reality. By separating them, our justice system, our rulers could keep us in line and control us.

That was second to Akane, though. When she realized that the ghosts were the criminals, she became extremely angry at the cruelty with which they were being treated. She intended to save them. Chief Kasei, the "ruler" of our realities, stood in the way and would not allow Akane to do anything. But Akane shot her or otherwise threw her aside. She screamed, "This is not how you help people!!" and threw the prison doors wide open.

The ghosts were hesitant to come out into the sunlight. They knew if they did, they would evaporate and join with their other selves. But they eventually wandered out. And the whole world, this whole reality, evaporated before us.

We were back in our own reality. Because the other one was gone, all the people had joined with their other selves and become whole again. The world seemed to possess more colour, now. There was more laughter and energy, too. Shimotsuki and the others met up with us where we reappeared, relieved to see us safe and happy we'd fixed the "glitch". We piled into the car, Akane driving, Ginoza shotgun, me sitting behind Ginoza, and Shimotsuki beside me. I threw my arms around Ginoza from behind the seat, and he smiled/laughed, and asked what that was for, and I grinned and said, "You know, I've always wanted to give you affection. And now I can!" I guess while we were still not whole, empty shells of ourselves, we weren't capable of giving or receiving affection, or something. So I was very happy I could finally be affectionate towards Ginoza.

Later, we were all walking down the sidewalk back to headquarters together. Kagari and Kunizuka were with us, and Kagari was cracking jokes, and everyone was in good cheer...except Akane. Because even though things were whole, things were the way they should be, Kogami still wasn't here.

A voice called out behind us. I saw through Akane's eyes. I can't remember what, exactly, the voice said, but it was something cheeky, like, "It's been a long time," or, "Why so glum?"

Kogami's voice. Akane whirled around and saw him smiling there. She was shocked for only half a second before she threw her arms around his neck, and Kogami wrapped her up in a tight hug. In that same hug, they were suddenly on the roof of the headquarters building, and Akane said into his shoulder, "I missed you so much." And Kogami said softly, "I know."

I wondered how they were ever going to rebuild their friendship after so much time apart, and not seeing eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but later, they were having a barbeque on the roof, just the two of them. They were both kinda tipsy, talking about whatever and laughing. Kogami was going to cook more stuff, but as a joke he put giant hamburger patties with bread onto a cookie sheet and claimed he was going to stick it in the oven. Akane laughed and said, "You can't do that!" He was like, "You're right, it's missing something. It needs a can of soup." And he put a can of tomato soup onto the cookie sheet, just set it right beside the hamburger patties, and Akane completely lost it, laughing helplessly and trying not to spill her drink.


I woke up around here. It was a nice place to wake up. :P

So, yeah. Lots of stuff happened in this dream. It would be hard to interpret if a lot of it wasn't canon in the Psycho-Pass itself. I don't think I need to interpret that stuff.

I think the parts that stand out to me the most are these:
- When Akane threw open the prison doors and freed the ghosts.
- The "I missed you so much" hug.
- When I finally got to hug Ginoza. XD

I'm not sure if I'd say Ginoza is my favourite character, because Akane and Kogami are fucking awesome, but...he's definitely the character I had the most feels about. I had a lot of empathy toward him, because I could relate to his fear and his expressing it with anger and distrust, but I also felt a great deal of sympathy for him, because he cracked, he broke. I could relate to that, too, but I think it was more sympathy for that than empathy because I've already been there, done that...and have recovered a lot since then. So my feelings about that happening to Ginoza are, like, "I know that feel, bruh. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," rather than, "Aaaaaggghhh, story of my liiiiiiiiiiiife!" I'm...having trouble articulating the difference, to be honest. XD I hope I make sense.

Anyway, I just have a lot of affection for his character. I wonder what it means that I was able to express affection for him in the end? What does it mean that we all weren't whole, but now are? If it had just been me, that would have been easier to understand, psychologically. But what does it mean that everyone was empty and depressed? Hmmm.

I wonder about the freeing of the ghosts, too. As it applies to my own consciousness and worldview, just what are those ghosts?

I started therapy recently. Maybe the ghosts/criminals are, like, the elements of my depression. I've been ignoring my mental illness for a long time, because I just want to live normally, I just want to live how I want and how I feel like, so I've been pretending it's not there and stuffing it down. So now that I'm actually looking at it, that's a way of "freeing" them? Hrrmmmm...

If that's true, then it's probably extremely significant that Akane said that keeping them locked up wasn't the way to help people. Hahaha. Nice symbolism, there.

Dunno, really. It's a lot to think about. Either way, it was a pretty cool dream, and I knew when I woke up that I wanted to write it down.

That's all for now.

I hate family holidays

I guess I was already kind of depressed when I got up this morning. But man, my trip to Wal-Mart a little later really didn't help.

After my doctor's appointment, I walked to the mall just to look around and see if I could find some things that would make nice Christmas presents for people. And while I was in Wal-Mart, looking at the seasonal chocolates...I saw Icy Squares. In case you don't know what those are, they're little cube-ish chocolates that come individually wrapped in a cylindrical container, and I've only ever really seen them around Christmas time.

And the tears welled up and the throat got tight and the chest was speared with pain.

My dad loved Icy Squares. He stopped eating them in recent years because his stomach became too sensitive to the caffeine, or something. He can't even drink tea anymore. But anyway, up until just the last three or four years, every year, he'd get a cylinder of Icy Squares next to or inside his stocking. And he was always happy to get them and loved snacking on them while opening the rest of his presents with us.

To avoid bursting into tears in the store, I texted a couple people about it, then walked to the back of the store where the oodles of wrapping paper rolls were so that I could calm down. An employee was stocking the shelves and tried to banter with me. And I tried back. But fuck. I was worried he was gonna notice I was upset and then ask me what was wrong. And if he had, I probably would have just started crying and said, "I miss my dad."

Even just writing this is hard.

I'd been thinking that I wanted to get my brother something, even just a card or whatever. But I also thought that I wanted to get something for my dad, too. But like, they and my mother all live together in the same house, so...if I get my dad and my brother something but exclude my mother, I'll come across as an asshole deliberately snubbing her. But if I don't get anyone anything, I'll come across as an asshole being pissy at his entire family. No matter what I do, I'm an asshole.

But I don't want my no-contact thing with my mother to get in the way of expressing my affection for the other members of my immediate family. 'Cause that's stupid and depressing. But I don't know what to do. I feel like being affectionate by giving them presents will leave me vulnerable and open for attack, like, "Way to very obviously exclude your poor, dear mother, you fucking dick." Ughh.

For a while now, I've been thinking about inviting my brother over for supper sometime. 'Cause I'd like to see him and I want him to see the computer I bought under his advice. But I'm worried he'll just get mad or something. I don't know. I didn't say it was logical. My mother conditioned me to believe that if I'm an asshole, I'm an asshole, but also that if I'm kind, I'm still an asshole. So. Yeah. Working around that is tons of fun in therapy. Believe me. [insert sarcasm here]

So now I just feel completely blugh and tired and I just wanna crawl into bed. But I promised people at work I'd bring a cake to the staff party tonight. And it's baked and iced and cut into sections and packed into tupperware containers and ready to go, so...guess I'm going. I'm also meeting Annew later, and we're going to see A Chrsitmas Carol at the Playhouse. I was looking forward to it, because I love musicals, but...depression, man. Buuuuut, I have the tickets and Annew is expecting me, so...guess I'm going to that, too.

I'd just like to not have depression, you know? And I'd like my dad to cuddle me. Is that so much to ask?

Yes, apparently.

Ba-humbug.

Art speaks

I wrote this in my Fort journal, but I wanted to share it with the world at large, too. This is something I think is important. So here it is:


"I know I ramble about fiction a lot. About video games and anime, manga and books. But it's the stories that are important, at least to me. It doesn't really matter what medium its in, if a story is told well, it touches hearts. Beneath the sound effects, beneath the editing team, beneath the animators and beneath the programmers, is someone's story being told. Someone, somewhere, dipped their pen into the ink of their own heart and wrote their thoughts and feelings into a physical form that could be understood by others. It's easy to dismiss games and anime as entertainment, but it's also incorrect. By opening ourselves and engaging with these things, we are opening ourselves to the heart of hearts of another person, even if it's just a glance into one small fraction of their whole. Engaging with art is a real and valid way of engaging with another person. Just different. And no, this kind of communication won't satisfy all the diverse and complex facets of a person's need for contact with another human being; but that's not any different than how simply hugging someone won't satisfy all that need, either."



I might revisit this later and re-write it in a way that is smoother and more beautiful. I'll think about it.

No one's favourite

So. I'm working full-time, living by myself, saving money every month, and basically making my own way through the world. I'm on my feet.

This is all very good, but now I've got another problem. Because of course I do.

I've been thinking about what I want to do career-wise. I've had a few ideas over the years. They're all perfectly good ideas, and I'm confident that, if I picked one at random and found a career in that field, I'd be satisfied with it and find every day at work interesting. But, like, I don't wanna make a huge investment in time, effort, and money unless I'm really sure that's what I want to be doing. Another concern is that my depression will kick my ass again and I won't be able to finish my program. I'd hate that. That's already happened twice. It fortunately didn't get me indebted, but still.

I've tried to sit down and think hard about it. "What do I really want?" I ask myself. I love art most, so maybe I'd like to draw cartoons or write novels. I do both already. Why not see if someone will pay me for it? But I also have this incredible instinct to protect people and prevent them from suffering. I'm good at dealing with crises in a way that is effective and safe. So I think I'd like being a police officer. I also like fiddling with things, tinkering, etc. I bet I'd do pretty well building little thingies. Maybe not full-scale construction, but like, putting together toasters or something like that (though I suppose machines do most of that nowadays, don't they?).

But none of these options will make me feel happy and fulfilled, by themselves. What I really want is to feel close with people, like I'm important to them, like I'm needed and valued and cared for. 'Cause I just...don't, right now.

A lot of this is my own issues. I know Annew loves me, but my own messed up perspective convinces me that his depression wins out over his love. Every time. He'd surrender to it before love. There are other examples, too, but I can't figure out how to articulate them, so I'll skip them for now.

Oh, I guess one easy-to-describe example would be that, though I've planned on moving to the city where my best friend lives, I hesitate. I know I won't just magically be happy if I go over there. Annew might not come with me, so I'd miss the intimate friendship I have with him. (Seriously intimate, too - we hold hands, sleep in the same bed, flop all over each other...all platonically, but we get mistaken for a gay couple all the friggin' time.) I'll be in the city where Séan is, but...will being near him make my happy? Or will seeing his success and happy relationship with Lindsay make my jealousy eat away at me even more? Does he even really need me there? He says he wants me there, but...we've lived apart for nine years. He's...he's fine without me, isn't he? He's lasted this long. He doesn't need me.

That's contrary to what he himself has told me, though. He's said, "I could not and would not want to live without you." Just right to my fucking face. Jesus Christ. You fucking kidding me? Who the fuck says that. I mean really.

Sigh.

I've cut out toxic people, which is good. But I feel more alone than ever. I thought that I could just cut my mother out and still have a good relationship with my dad. Growing up, I always had a good and intimate relationship with him. We've had lots of special times together, just the two of us. Like, the six-hour car rides to Berwick every summer. Just us two, sitting in the car together for half the day. Perfect. Inevitably, we'd argue or disagree about something once or twice during that time, but mostly, we just babbled about whatever topics came to mind, and he'd usually have some fun trivia and tidbits about things. We'd tolerate each other's taste in music, too.

So we had this great relationship. I'm starting to wonder if it was just me, though. Like...like, when you have good relationships with people, they contact you sometimes, right? They call once in a while to at least ask how you're doing, and invite you to come do things with them sometimes...right? Isn't that how it works? If I'm wrong, friggin' tell me, because these seem like pretty reasonable expectations to me. My ex-roommate Skyped her family every God-damned night. Like wow. I know one example doesn't necessarily make the rule; her family might be full of dicks who guilt-trip her and make her feel shitty about herself and thus make her talk to them all the time. I don't fuckin' know. But, just from what I've heard from other people, when they have nice relationships with their parents, they fucking TALK TO THEM ONCE IN A FUCKING WHILE. You know?

My dad never contacts me. He emails me when I get mail at their house. That's it. He doesn't ask how I'm doing, he doesn't invite me out to lunch, he doesn't tell me how the Toronto Blue Jays are playing, he doesn't ask if I wanna go to the lake, and he didn't talk to me about Berwick, either, until I brought it up.

It's true that I haven't made much effort, either. That's because I felt like so much shit after cutting my mom out. Not for her, but because I knew the severing would be felt by everyone in my family. I knew it would hurt my dad a lot. So I felt like I didn't deserve his love, or that he wouldn't want to spend time with my because he hated what I'd done and that he thought I was a terrible person. I did, however, ask him out a few times. I asked him if we could go to Taymouth so I could visit Evan's grave. We did, and we had lunch after that. That's the only time it ever bore fruit, though. I'd asked him if he'd wanted to go see a movie I thought looked funny, but he was sick and couldn't go. But he didn't email me saying when he got better, he didn't follow up when he was healthy again and ask about doing anything. I went to Berwick, but we didn't spend any time together, other than him picking me up and dropping me off in Kentville, where the bus station is. When I was about to get back on the bus home, I felt so fucking awkward, because I wasn't sure if he wanted to hug me or not. Jesus. How fucked is that?

Why? Why doesn't he talk to me?

I don't feel like anyone's most important person. I'm just not. Dad might argue otherwise, but he doesn't fucking talk to me. And Séan, well...if Lindsay and I were both tied up by some bad guys in separate places, and they were gonna kill us, and Séan could only save one of us...he'd save her. Even though they've known each other a relatively short time, have been dating barely six months, and are moving along faster than I'd normally consider healthy...he loves her and he can picture a future with her and blah, blah, blah. And who am I? Some asshole that has become so objectively fucked by abuse and neglect and bad luck, so twisted with resentment and envy, that I can't even fucking be happy for him. I have to take some sarcastic stab at him every time he has happy news. I'm not a good friend. I'm not the same best friend he had in ninth grade. Jesus, when I think back to how I was then and how I am now, I was so much less assholish. What the fuck even HAPPENED? I don't even understand.

Annew and I have this nice intimate friendship, but he won't let me make jokes about being married anymore. I dunno why I started making those jokes. Maybe because I was lonely. But they make him uncomfortable or something, and he asked me to stop, so I stopped.

If I died, I don't doubt that loads of people would be really sad and really pissed off at me or feel guilty or whatever other feelings people have when someone they care about dies young. But I'm not anyone's most important person. I'm not anyone's top priority. I know that because NOBODY TALKS TO ME! Fuck. If anyone in my family tries to tell me I am their top priority, I'd immediately call bullshit. Because if it was true, they'd actually fucking make an effort to maintain a relationship with me. BUT NOBODY FUCKING DOES.

Feeling something and taking action on those feelings are two different things.

So yeah, I can't decide what to do for a career because...of completely unrelated reasons, apparently.

Either way, I'm lonely as fuck and feel like shit. And I feel like I can't even confide in Séan anymore because he gives terrible advice. I don't want his advice. I want hugs. Urgh. Also I feel shitty for complaining at him because he's happier than he's ever been right now and everything's going right for him (well, almost) so I feel shitty that I bring him down with my crap.

I want to be someone's most special person. And not in a creepy, unhealthy way. I wanna be someone's favourite. I wanna be someone's top priority. Something's always more important than I am. God, I don't even want to take care of me anymore. I'm tired.

Seriously considering calling Annew at his work (he does customer support for a company that proves internet acces to rural areas) and crying at him. But that seems like a bad idea.

The war is over

I had a sad dream. So of course I'm going to write it out in here.


We lived in a nation constantly on the verge of war. We all knew this, and we all knew we could be called upon to fight at any time. I was one of the people who had volunteered to be a fighter, if needed.

I was at school or something, and texting Séan. We were making plans to meet up somewhere and hang out. But, it was shortly after school was let out that the sirens went off. The enemy nation had invaded. I quickly consulted the map that showed where forces were the most needed, what areas were the most vulnerable. Then I ran to get my fighter plane and took off.

I knew fighting in the war meant not seeing Séan anymore. But...I guess I really wanted to protect him, protect the life he was living. A peaceful life. Part of me did feel sad, but mostly, I was focused on the task at hand and determined to give it my all.

The war was mostly dogfights fought in the air. Our planes were white/silver and metallic-looking. The enemies were reddish and seemed more insect-like. I remember watching one of our planes get shot down.

We fought and fought. It went on a long time. But, eventually, we won. I was far away from home, and tired, but we won.

For some reason, then end of the war forced me into a timeless sleep. I slept for fifteen years without aging. When I awoke, the world was different. Well, it was familiar, and a lot of it was the same, but it had obviously changed some in those fifteen years. I woke up next to a huge, old tree. The tree told me my job was done, and that I could go home and live my life again. "The war is over," he told me. So I went.

I found work in a hotel. I worked there for a while, then, somehow, found out Séan was going to arrive. At first, my heart leapt. But then I watched him walk into the hotel, and it broke. He was older now, fifteen years older. He wasn't the same Séan I'd always known. He'd lived his life all this time, while I had been stuck in my long, dreamless sleep. He wouldn't recognize me, and even if I did tell him who I was, it would never be the same. There was too much distance between us, now. Uncrossable distance.

Knowing I lost my best friend crushed me.


There's obviously a lot of metaphor going on, here. The war starting could symbolize the time when Séan moved away and I fell into my depression. And fighting, fighting, fighting all this time with it. And...I do feel like I've been sleeping. Like I've been standing still while everyone around me moves on with their lives and builds themselves up the way they want. Rachel just got her graduate degree, for Christ's sakes.

I have been feeling grief lately, too. For lost time. And by "lost" time, I mean time not with Séan. I've grieved it so much. There were so many things we accomplished and so many milestones we got through...which we should have done together. Every time he tells me about some major event in his life I just think, "Damn it, I should have been there." It tears me up inside. I feel time slipping through my fingers, and I try to grasp it, take it back...but all there is is air.

But...

"The war is over."

...The war is over?

It's...it's done? I'm okay, now? Really? Honestly and truthfully? Is this my brain's way of telling me it's alright now?

Well, I have made a plan in my head. A few weeks ago, I concretely decided that I was going to work hard and save up money for a year, and then move to Séan's city. I can't live without him. I've tried. I've tried for nine fucking years. It's just not happening. All this time...all this time, the only person whose input, whose opinion, whose feelings and approval I've wanted and cared about it his. I need to be there.

No more lost time. No more slipping through my fingers and no more grasping at air. No more sitting around and cursing my fate. No more lonely nights longing for what I don't have. No more anguish that leaves me breathless. No more passively sitting by while time whizzes by my hears like a horde of hummingbirds. I'm going to seize the things I truly want with my bare hands.


My bare hands.


The war is over.


.

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