Zorba the Hutt (zorbathut) wrote,
Zorba the Hutt

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school, pain, truth, paranoia, disbelief, and hugs, or a reasonable subset thereof

so I guess I should probably get around to explaining why exactly I've dropped out of school and run to DC.

Before I do it, though, this isn't meant to make anybody feel bad. It's just the facts from my perspective.

Some people have recurring paranoias or fears. I've got a recurring series of events, which has spawned quite a large collection of paranoias and fears. The details vary a little, but basically it has a few important aspects.

1) Someone I want to spend time with.
2) A limited amount of time in which to do so.
3) Someone who I care about to the point that I would say "I love you" and mean it. Maybe not capital-L, but at least lowercase-L.
4) Them claiming that they really do want to spend time with me.
5) Them never getting around to it.
6) Them spending lots of time with other people.

Before this weekend it had happened three times . . . the first being that event a year and a half ago that defined so much of my current psyche, when my girlfriend and love left me. This weekend it happened for the fourth time. Again. In the same way that it always does . . . except this time I even got to watch it, instead of hearing about it second-hand. I don't know if it was better or worse.

And in her credit, she had reason. She didn't mean to hurt me - none of them did (well, I'm still reserving judgement on the ex), all of them had at least some good reason to do what they did. They didn't think it would hurt me at the time, they didn't realize it, they were going through major emotional changes . . . oh yeah, that's another constant. here - I wrote this when I was feeling especially sarcastic and in a bad mood, but it sums up a lot of it rather nicely. (That was a weekend of hope. Now I seem to be in a week of loss . . . though not a very painful one, for once, it's just the waiting and the hoping.)

So it hurt. Pain. Lots of it.

And I got back to school and realized I had an essay to write that wouldn't be all that hard and a test to make up that would be kinda hard and a test in a week that would be very hard and another essay in a week and it was just too much. Vicious circle. If I don't go to class I won't get things done and I won't feel better. if I don't feel better I won't heal. if I don't heal I won't get to class.

if I do go to class I'll tear myself apart from the inside and be shattered and destroyed inside of a week.

so I left.

I've got this weird mental image of myself. sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn't, it's got at least a dozen forms. One of them is what I term the star fortress form. Enormous steel globe, bristling with defenses and armor (it didn't used to have any.) One day I found a similar fortress I could merge with, and I let my defenses down and opened up to her core and we complemented each other for four months . . . then she backed away and turned her cannons on me and ripped me to pieces, and I've been trying to repair ever since. Sometimes I think I'm making progress, sometimes I think I've gotten enough of the systems up and running that I can protect myself enough to repair completely . . . but every time I get hit by a blast from someone I thought I could shelter behind.

I lost half the shell - or more - this time. It was just too much. Does anyone here know that feeling when you just have to cut loose and drop everything? I know a lot of gamers have been in that situation. You spend an hour barely holding on, trying to build up your forces and pouring enormous funds into things that will pay off long-term . . . then you suddenly realize that if you don't pull off the short term, the long term doesn't matter. And so you rearrange and chop out all the things you've been protecting with you life, without thinking twice, and so that's what I did . . . looked at it and said "if I stay here I will not survive". and so I left, falling through the atmosphere feeling it burning away more as I went, just trying to salvage what I had left.

I'm not going to pretend I think it was a good thing. it wasn't. I'd rather not be here, I'd rather be sane and functional and together and that hasn't been the case for a year and a half - I do what I have to. Maybe someday I'll be able to pull together and finally transcend and weave all the cables together again . . . for now I'm stuck with just a subset of what I could do. (my music player reads "CPU:00%". I empathize with it.)

So here I am in DC. It's better, I think . . . at least I'm able to function. at least I'm not curling up in my bed unable to think or breathe - something I got too used to. And I'm hoping I haven't lost a friendship. Like last time. Like the first time. (Not like the second time, and thank you, and you know who you are . . . that makes it so much more bearable.) I'm hoping that maybe the beautiful future I thought might happen . . . might still happen. That maybe everything can still somehow come together.

That's what I'm leaning on now. Potential. And yet so many things that can go wrong. So many friendships lost in the past, and so many trusts broken, so many promises vanished and shattered. Treading through the dust of couldhavebeens.

you mean so much to me.

And there's the crazy part, the part that sends me and the others into these endless loops. For once, for a few days in a year maybe we can be normal, we can fit in . . . and when we do, everything breaks around us, and we don't even realize it until it's all over. I don't notice when I'm hurting anymore. I just survive. And afterwards I realize that it wasn't me. It was that me that comes out when it's pressing in . . . I don't know who I am anymore, the pieces that were once me are spread across five years of attacks, and I just look at the other people who were once me from a distance.

I'm sorry to those I hurt. and you know it, all of you . . . or you should, at least. I want to shake hands and make up.

I was the one who smashed your plane. It was so well-built . . . I just had to take it for a spin. Let's just forget everything after that, okay?

I want it to be like it was before. A little wiser, maybe. A little more experienced. A little more cautious. But I miss talking to you. I miss the laughter and the snuggling and groaning at the horrible midnight jokes and just getting to know you. (Tell me a dream. ProkrastinaTOR. Timecube. The winch wench.)

I guess I just miss what we used to have . . . and I don't even know who I'm talking to.

how goes the world?
I wish I knew.

If new starts aren't possible then I'm doomed anyway. And if they are . . . I guess I'd just like things to be the way they used to be.
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