Raindancing for sunshine
I never thought I would lose the plot. Always thought I was too strong for that.
But my family history would most likely disagree with me, beat me down and tell me that I will be unstable as I should be.
And I'm not entirely sure what actually occured to change the structure of my thoughts but they are no longer quite so determined.
Actually, I would rather not say no longer, that sounds too permanent.
And incorrect, as I am determined to bring back my determination.
I once said I was sick of having a heart of stone, and everything is telling me that I can't love completely with my heart the way it is, but I'm beginning to think that recoiling back inside myself is the only way to live.
Running, getting stronger, hurting myself everyday to improve, feeling the pain and fear and doing it anyway, and at the end of the day being too callous to mind.
And then perhaps everything will change and I'll become sick of it again.
I was once told by someone that they were jealous of my ability to stop caring, my ability to turn my emotions off like a tap.
But they didn't understand.
You can't really ever understand a person.
Someone also once told me they knew everything about me, in a vivid moment of sunshine that I'll never forget.
But they were also wrong.
They came close.
It's not that I don't care. It's that I have to pretend not to.
Because if I don't, I'm vulnerable again.
I don't know why I'm revealing all this. I just had to try and think it out somehow.
I like honesty.
But I often wonder if perhaps I take it too far, and make myself much more vulnerable.
Or sometimes, much more intimidating. As I've been told.
Never considered myself intimidating.
Perhaps I can be.
I feel somewhat ignorant, saying that I'd rather have a hardened heart, when I've been trying for so long to reverse it.
I think perhaps, I'd rather have a hardened heart with some people.
Because then I can't keep loving them even though they hurt me.
But then when I harden my heart, they don't think I care.
Perhaps for the good of others, I should just revert to being trampled over again.
Doing the moral thing in all situations, putting others before yourself.
That's a bloody difficult thing to do.
I don't know many people who can really live that.
I certainly can't.
I'll try though.
My father always says to look out for number one.
But that feels so wrong to say or think.
Some would say I'd been brainwashed.
If I was from the outside looking in I'd say it too.
But I don't believe I am.
I believe I know and understand what it is I need to do.
And I have no idea why I just wrote that.
I have no idea how this all came about from simply thinking of that vivid moment of sunshine, followed by quick, sharp memories, that encompass everything in just a few seconds.
The tears, the darkness, the cold, the sunshine, the smiles, the look in the eyes that will never again be replicated, swinging, stars, seeing them in the distance.
The fear that forced me to start it all.
I will do anything to try and conquer my fear.
For a while I felt as though I should shave my head simply because the thought of being ugly terrifies me. (Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I find myself attractive, I just think that wording this any other way will cause an uproar from some of those close to me.)
And all of this while You Are My One Desire plays by Buddy Holly in the background.
Not that you are.
Or were.
And then the promise of someone who you haven't seen for a very long time, someone who regularly gave you sunshine moments, that is once again broken, and you wonder why on earth you ever thought it would be any different.
Will it ever be any different?
Or will everything go in circles for ever?
The sunshine days, the rainy days, the days when there's nothing but death, death, death.
Those days when you don't care that along with the sunshine there's gotta be a little rain sometime.
The darkness gets worse every year, but perhaps conversely, the sunshine is better every year.
Or perhaps every year, you're beaten down more and more until your body simply decides that it is just not worth it and gives up.
I prefer to believe the former.
But my family history would most likely disagree with me, beat me down and tell me that I will be unstable as I should be.
And I'm not entirely sure what actually occured to change the structure of my thoughts but they are no longer quite so determined.
Actually, I would rather not say no longer, that sounds too permanent.
And incorrect, as I am determined to bring back my determination.
I once said I was sick of having a heart of stone, and everything is telling me that I can't love completely with my heart the way it is, but I'm beginning to think that recoiling back inside myself is the only way to live.
Running, getting stronger, hurting myself everyday to improve, feeling the pain and fear and doing it anyway, and at the end of the day being too callous to mind.
And then perhaps everything will change and I'll become sick of it again.
I was once told by someone that they were jealous of my ability to stop caring, my ability to turn my emotions off like a tap.
But they didn't understand.
You can't really ever understand a person.
Someone also once told me they knew everything about me, in a vivid moment of sunshine that I'll never forget.
But they were also wrong.
They came close.
It's not that I don't care. It's that I have to pretend not to.
Because if I don't, I'm vulnerable again.
I don't know why I'm revealing all this. I just had to try and think it out somehow.
I like honesty.
But I often wonder if perhaps I take it too far, and make myself much more vulnerable.
Or sometimes, much more intimidating. As I've been told.
Never considered myself intimidating.
Perhaps I can be.
I feel somewhat ignorant, saying that I'd rather have a hardened heart, when I've been trying for so long to reverse it.
I think perhaps, I'd rather have a hardened heart with some people.
Because then I can't keep loving them even though they hurt me.
But then when I harden my heart, they don't think I care.
Perhaps for the good of others, I should just revert to being trampled over again.
Doing the moral thing in all situations, putting others before yourself.
That's a bloody difficult thing to do.
I don't know many people who can really live that.
I certainly can't.
I'll try though.
My father always says to look out for number one.
But that feels so wrong to say or think.
Some would say I'd been brainwashed.
If I was from the outside looking in I'd say it too.
But I don't believe I am.
I believe I know and understand what it is I need to do.
And I have no idea why I just wrote that.
I have no idea how this all came about from simply thinking of that vivid moment of sunshine, followed by quick, sharp memories, that encompass everything in just a few seconds.
The tears, the darkness, the cold, the sunshine, the smiles, the look in the eyes that will never again be replicated, swinging, stars, seeing them in the distance.
The fear that forced me to start it all.
I will do anything to try and conquer my fear.
For a while I felt as though I should shave my head simply because the thought of being ugly terrifies me. (Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I find myself attractive, I just think that wording this any other way will cause an uproar from some of those close to me.)
And all of this while You Are My One Desire plays by Buddy Holly in the background.
Not that you are.
Or were.
And then the promise of someone who you haven't seen for a very long time, someone who regularly gave you sunshine moments, that is once again broken, and you wonder why on earth you ever thought it would be any different.
Will it ever be any different?
Or will everything go in circles for ever?
The sunshine days, the rainy days, the days when there's nothing but death, death, death.
Those days when you don't care that along with the sunshine there's gotta be a little rain sometime.
The darkness gets worse every year, but perhaps conversely, the sunshine is better every year.
Or perhaps every year, you're beaten down more and more until your body simply decides that it is just not worth it and gives up.
I prefer to believe the former.
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