Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sunday, October 30, 2011
I know I'm not perfect. I know this very well. I just want to find someone who is willing to not give up on me after only a few days. I guess I just got really confused when you told me you wanted to help me get straight. I confused you for someone who wanted to stay. And that's where I messed up. I know.
But now, that's over. I just want to know what you thought you did wrong. You spent all this time saying it was me, and my fault for being "pushy" and "needy." You told me I blamed everyone else. But I didn't blame anyone but myself, which is what I think you didn't understand. Yeah, maybe I blamed Pablo a little bit, but only because I didn't think it was his business to know anything about what we did. Which, it wasn't. Just like how it wasn't any of my business to ask what you guys would talk about when you would hang out, which is why I never did. It wasn't my business when you guys would hang out, just like it was never his business when we would. He was included in everything to the point where it wasn't like I was just talking to you, I was talking to him too. And he would ask me to talk to him because I wouldn't understand you, and I didn't think it was right. Which, it wasn't. But I did anyway, because I didn't know how you felt about me. You didn't even have to tell me how you felt. I just wanted an assurance (you know, prior to going insane with not knowing how you felt). I guess I just asked you things the wrong way, but you never asked for clarification because perhaps you thought I was just so sure of everything I was saying.
And so the other day, before Pablo officially stopped talking to me because you and I are no longer talking (which seems a little backwards, don't you think? But anyway), he asked me if I thought I wanted to re-commit myself, if I thought it would help me. Which, I also thought was none of his business, but because I'd known him for so long and we'd been through so much together (which was also my mistake again, because he's clearly not doing the same thing. He just wanted me to stop talking to his friend.) I ignored that fact, and I told him, "yes and no." I told him that because if I know if I were to do so, I would be in there for good. There would be no life for me outside of the hospital. Because I was such a mess last time after I came out, if I were in there any longer, I would kiss-goodbye everything it was to be human. When I was finally discharged, I had completely forgotten what it was like to communicate. I couldn't talk to anyone, not even my Mom or Rommel. Nothing short of a 3 word phrase left my lips. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk, because I did, that was all I wanted to do. But I couldn't. I had forgotten what it was even like. The films we had, on vhs of course, were the only things that loosely kept me close to realty. And the news as well, mainly with current events such as bombings in the middle east and gas leaks in old homes. But it was so muting that I had to learn to tune it out. I've never been diagnosed with autism or anything related to that in my life, but from what I've gathered, it seemed it was very fitting metaphor to my situation. Perhaps no more a metaphor than it was a fact. I was numb, I was hyped up on dozens of antidepressants, sleeping pills, anxiety medication, and well, all that. All so I wouldn't be sad anymore. It took me a while to even remember words I would constantly use. I didn't remember what they were, or what they meant. My brain was a blank canvas. And then at that point, I just wanted to feel something again. Not too much, but just enough so I would remember what it was like to be human again. Of course it got blown out of proportion because I got worse. The drugs came back, and slowly but surely, there I was, feeling somewhat normal. Disoriented, but still, somewhat normal.
Two months later, I'm talking to you, and for some reason you thought it was clever to tell me that if I ever needed help with ditching the drugs, you would help. And at first, I wanted it. I didn't want this life. With anyone else I would and still usually feel awkward or misplaced, like I'd rather just stay home with my dog than be a crazy mess ie, from downer to wild party animal/booze killer (the latter was of course the one most people saw and loved, so it had always been so easy for me to just get drunk.). I didn't want this life, I didn't want to live how I do, but now I do. I'm weak. But here, I had met someone who was everything I could've ever wanted, and I figured that if you wanted to help me, then not all hope was lost. You didn't even know me. You were probably just being friendly. You were just the only person who ever asked. I figured you saw something in me, something that made even you realize that the drugs weren't for me, and that I deserved better for myself because I was just killing myself, wasting my potential, maybe. But then, I got too comfortable. I would forget that you were a completely different person from what I was used to in a relationship. I kept thinking you were going to handle things the way Pablo handled them because of our history and present, but he was the last person I had a real relationship with. Yes, I had dated other guys before and after mine and his relationship, but only after our relationship was I sexually active, and that was mainly all it was with the other guys. Hanging out, getting drunk together and having sex, but it was mutually agreed that our relationships were going nowhere. Pablo was and to this day has been my last serious relationship. And so I would forget that you didn't know me as well as I thought you did. I got scared. I kept thinking that after every conversation, you would just get up and walk away. So I tried to not care, which lead me into digging into the drugs again. It was just weed, at first. And I was fine with that, it's marijuana, I've got a prescription for it, whatever. Yeah, and then I lied to you for the first and only time ever. And I felt like such shit for it. I didn't want you to think I was a coward. But I knew you knew I was lying, so I don't know why I didn't just tell you. I guess I just felt stupid afterwards, you knew I was stoned, and maybe you were even embarrassed. Because I was so unbelievably stoned, coming down, but still stoned, when I met your best friend Anthony, whom at this point, I think is the only person you could ever truly trust. And I was meeting him for the first time. It was a really terrible first impression, and I felt terrible for it. I didn't want it to be like that, and I know you didn't either. At this point, I just felt like I kept making the wrong choices and I was so worried about messing this up.
But in the end, I did. And there's nothing I can do about it now. Because I was confused. I was hearing one thing from you, something from Pablo, and something about Gaby about our relationship. And it didn't help that I would keep hearing that Pablo was still in love with me from Gaby by what I would tell her, and then I would confront him about it, and he'd freak out and yell at me, telling me he'd never be with me again because I did something with you. And they would also talk, a lot. More than Pablo and I would talk. Maybe more than even you and Pablo would talk. She would tell me how he's still in love with me, but that I shouldn't talk to him, and she made it seem genuine because she would compare him to Joe. But low and behold, this girl just cannot stand not being the center of everyone's attention. Why anyone would want what I had for the past year, I don't know. But she ended up talking to Pablo a lot more than she should've, despite the both of us knowing that for a while, Pablo did want to get with her. She told me that if Joe ever told her anything like that, she would kill him. Well, that was the day I should've killed Pablo. But I would still come to her with advice about you, and she'd tell me to or not to do certain things. And I shouldn't have listened to her, but I did, because she always has guys flocking around her. She's always been able to keep guys coming for more. And so, I listened to her, and I shouldn't have, because it all got me in trouble with you anyway. I just didn't know what to do, I didn't want to say the wrong thing because I knew how the hospital had changed me. I could barely keep up a conversation with you, and it wasn't because I was doing anything wrong, it was because I didn't know what to say because I couldn't find the words in my head. Big sigh. All in all, It just felt like a huge conspiracy against me, and all I wanted was clarification.
That's still all I want. But so now, here I am. Still disoriented, still slightly autistic, still on drugs. Just without you, and the clear idea that all I had ever wanted was you, and that I should have been strong enough to say no to him all this time. But I wasn't. And having to keep that a secret from you, to salvage yours and Pablo's friendship, made me go crazy. It's like I had kept looking for more and more ways to fuck up, unintentionally of course, and then I just screwed myself over for you assholes in the end. Because of course, you're not talking to me, and Pablo isn't talking to me anymore either. But he's still talking to my cousin everyday. Rad. But that's what are drugs are for.
ps. but how come I was the only one who knew what the right thing to do here was? I'm just a little girl.
But now, that's over. I just want to know what you thought you did wrong. You spent all this time saying it was me, and my fault for being "pushy" and "needy." You told me I blamed everyone else. But I didn't blame anyone but myself, which is what I think you didn't understand. Yeah, maybe I blamed Pablo a little bit, but only because I didn't think it was his business to know anything about what we did. Which, it wasn't. Just like how it wasn't any of my business to ask what you guys would talk about when you would hang out, which is why I never did. It wasn't my business when you guys would hang out, just like it was never his business when we would. He was included in everything to the point where it wasn't like I was just talking to you, I was talking to him too. And he would ask me to talk to him because I wouldn't understand you, and I didn't think it was right. Which, it wasn't. But I did anyway, because I didn't know how you felt about me. You didn't even have to tell me how you felt. I just wanted an assurance (you know, prior to going insane with not knowing how you felt). I guess I just asked you things the wrong way, but you never asked for clarification because perhaps you thought I was just so sure of everything I was saying.
And so the other day, before Pablo officially stopped talking to me because you and I are no longer talking (which seems a little backwards, don't you think? But anyway), he asked me if I thought I wanted to re-commit myself, if I thought it would help me. Which, I also thought was none of his business, but because I'd known him for so long and we'd been through so much together (which was also my mistake again, because he's clearly not doing the same thing. He just wanted me to stop talking to his friend.) I ignored that fact, and I told him, "yes and no." I told him that because if I know if I were to do so, I would be in there for good. There would be no life for me outside of the hospital. Because I was such a mess last time after I came out, if I were in there any longer, I would kiss-goodbye everything it was to be human. When I was finally discharged, I had completely forgotten what it was like to communicate. I couldn't talk to anyone, not even my Mom or Rommel. Nothing short of a 3 word phrase left my lips. It wasn't that I didn't want to talk, because I did, that was all I wanted to do. But I couldn't. I had forgotten what it was even like. The films we had, on vhs of course, were the only things that loosely kept me close to realty. And the news as well, mainly with current events such as bombings in the middle east and gas leaks in old homes. But it was so muting that I had to learn to tune it out. I've never been diagnosed with autism or anything related to that in my life, but from what I've gathered, it seemed it was very fitting metaphor to my situation. Perhaps no more a metaphor than it was a fact. I was numb, I was hyped up on dozens of antidepressants, sleeping pills, anxiety medication, and well, all that. All so I wouldn't be sad anymore. It took me a while to even remember words I would constantly use. I didn't remember what they were, or what they meant. My brain was a blank canvas. And then at that point, I just wanted to feel something again. Not too much, but just enough so I would remember what it was like to be human again. Of course it got blown out of proportion because I got worse. The drugs came back, and slowly but surely, there I was, feeling somewhat normal. Disoriented, but still, somewhat normal.
Two months later, I'm talking to you, and for some reason you thought it was clever to tell me that if I ever needed help with ditching the drugs, you would help. And at first, I wanted it. I didn't want this life. With anyone else I would and still usually feel awkward or misplaced, like I'd rather just stay home with my dog than be a crazy mess ie, from downer to wild party animal/booze killer (the latter was of course the one most people saw and loved, so it had always been so easy for me to just get drunk.). I didn't want this life, I didn't want to live how I do, but now I do. I'm weak. But here, I had met someone who was everything I could've ever wanted, and I figured that if you wanted to help me, then not all hope was lost. You didn't even know me. You were probably just being friendly. You were just the only person who ever asked. I figured you saw something in me, something that made even you realize that the drugs weren't for me, and that I deserved better for myself because I was just killing myself, wasting my potential, maybe. But then, I got too comfortable. I would forget that you were a completely different person from what I was used to in a relationship. I kept thinking you were going to handle things the way Pablo handled them because of our history and present, but he was the last person I had a real relationship with. Yes, I had dated other guys before and after mine and his relationship, but only after our relationship was I sexually active, and that was mainly all it was with the other guys. Hanging out, getting drunk together and having sex, but it was mutually agreed that our relationships were going nowhere. Pablo was and to this day has been my last serious relationship. And so I would forget that you didn't know me as well as I thought you did. I got scared. I kept thinking that after every conversation, you would just get up and walk away. So I tried to not care, which lead me into digging into the drugs again. It was just weed, at first. And I was fine with that, it's marijuana, I've got a prescription for it, whatever. Yeah, and then I lied to you for the first and only time ever. And I felt like such shit for it. I didn't want you to think I was a coward. But I knew you knew I was lying, so I don't know why I didn't just tell you. I guess I just felt stupid afterwards, you knew I was stoned, and maybe you were even embarrassed. Because I was so unbelievably stoned, coming down, but still stoned, when I met your best friend Anthony, whom at this point, I think is the only person you could ever truly trust. And I was meeting him for the first time. It was a really terrible first impression, and I felt terrible for it. I didn't want it to be like that, and I know you didn't either. At this point, I just felt like I kept making the wrong choices and I was so worried about messing this up.
But in the end, I did. And there's nothing I can do about it now. Because I was confused. I was hearing one thing from you, something from Pablo, and something about Gaby about our relationship. And it didn't help that I would keep hearing that Pablo was still in love with me from Gaby by what I would tell her, and then I would confront him about it, and he'd freak out and yell at me, telling me he'd never be with me again because I did something with you. And they would also talk, a lot. More than Pablo and I would talk. Maybe more than even you and Pablo would talk. She would tell me how he's still in love with me, but that I shouldn't talk to him, and she made it seem genuine because she would compare him to Joe. But low and behold, this girl just cannot stand not being the center of everyone's attention. Why anyone would want what I had for the past year, I don't know. But she ended up talking to Pablo a lot more than she should've, despite the both of us knowing that for a while, Pablo did want to get with her. She told me that if Joe ever told her anything like that, she would kill him. Well, that was the day I should've killed Pablo. But I would still come to her with advice about you, and she'd tell me to or not to do certain things. And I shouldn't have listened to her, but I did, because she always has guys flocking around her. She's always been able to keep guys coming for more. And so, I listened to her, and I shouldn't have, because it all got me in trouble with you anyway. I just didn't know what to do, I didn't want to say the wrong thing because I knew how the hospital had changed me. I could barely keep up a conversation with you, and it wasn't because I was doing anything wrong, it was because I didn't know what to say because I couldn't find the words in my head. Big sigh. All in all, It just felt like a huge conspiracy against me, and all I wanted was clarification.
That's still all I want. But so now, here I am. Still disoriented, still slightly autistic, still on drugs. Just without you, and the clear idea that all I had ever wanted was you, and that I should have been strong enough to say no to him all this time. But I wasn't. And having to keep that a secret from you, to salvage yours and Pablo's friendship, made me go crazy. It's like I had kept looking for more and more ways to fuck up, unintentionally of course, and then I just screwed myself over for you assholes in the end. Because of course, you're not talking to me, and Pablo isn't talking to me anymore either. But he's still talking to my cousin everyday. Rad. But that's what are drugs are for.
ps. but how come I was the only one who knew what the right thing to do here was? I'm just a little girl.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)