If tears were a source of energy then I would be putting Big Oil out of business.

[napoleonherself]

So, actually bothering to post.

Saturday while I was cleaning Doyle's cage some Mormons came by. They were creepy, a couple college-age-ish women with identical wide white smiles that didn't reach their eyes. After I made the mistake of opening the door for them, they tried most valiantly to get me to let them in so we could all have a nice talk about how if a man "translates" "magical golden plates" from inside a hat, then you should believe it all. (I am admittedly getting my understanding of Mormon history in this case from South Park. For my purposes, humor is more the point than accuracy.) One of them asked if I was sure I didn't need any help or know anyone else who needed help. After I got them to leave, I said to myself and the empty apartment, "Oh, I certainly need help. But not the type you could give me." Christian-type religion ain't what I need. Not with Chris having been a fellow heathen nonbeliever type. You can keep your "loving" creator that doles out neverending torture to those who dare to not agree with one of a huge number of mutually contradictory really honestly true truths. Thanks anyway.

Life in general has been pretty non-eventful I guess. I go to classes and come home to the empty apartment where I can either study, kill time with mindless pursuits, or cry. I have been doing a lot of that third option the past few days. For a while I was feeling basically numb, and I don't know what's changed that, but. I just can't get over how stupid I was and how many things I did wrong and how maybe if I hadn't been too busy to even say goodnight to him that last night or for that matter just about all the nights that last week then he would still be alive. I think it was my fault. At least partly. You always hear about people in accidents and stuff who are said to be fighting hard and not giving in to death. What happens when something goes wrong, maybe you stop breathing in the night like people do on a regular basis, and on some unconscious level you don't see the point of not giving in to death because your girlfriend is too busy playing City of Heroes to talk to you? It appears that what happens then is that you just die. And you never wake up again. Ever.

It hurts so much when I am unable to distract myself into different lines of thought. I don't know how to make it better, and I don't know how long I can wait for it to get better on its own. I keep thinking that maybe I should visit the health center and talk to someone except what would they tell me that would help? "It is not your fault Jenny"? Hell, I could have people on the Internet tell me that for free. Doesn't mean I believe it. "It doesn't matter that you hadn't actually told him that you loved him in like WEEKS, he still knew"? Sometimes I think his self-esteem was even lower than mine. How do I know he wasn't expecting me to dump him any day there? I DON'T. He was the entirety of my dreams for the future AND NOW I CAN'T EVER TELL HIM THAT. Plus I have gotten a lot of the "an online relationship is not a real relationship" stuff in the past from mechamom, and I'm afraid of getting the same thing from a counselor type. Still, I'm also afraid of having to go on living, and I think that fear is kind of winning out. I can't see myself committing suicide, but were death to come unexpectedly in say a gigantic bus crash on the way to school one day then I'm not sure I would be entirely unhappy about it. At least then I'd either be with him, or no longer possessed of existence and thus unable to hurt anymore.

Last week at one point a poster-perfect emo kid got on the bus when I was ridin' it. Black hoodie, tight black jeans, black sneakers, probably-dyed black shaggy hair styled so it was over his eye on one side. I felt like asking him to compare notes with me. You may have the look, emo kid, but I bet I've got the level of angst and lovelorn whining down cold.

Comments

[nidoking.livejournal.com]

All three of the listed pursuits are about equally good for you at the moment, I'd say. Just keep doing that for a while. You'll probably start asking yourself how long it's going to go on that way, if you're not already. That means it's working. You'll probably find all sorts of ways to cope, and most of it's not as harmful as it seems. Death isn't going to help, though, given the mutual nonbelieverhood. Self-mutilation is bad too, but I don't see you looking at that either. Otherwise, it's all good harmless fun that you're just in no state to enjoy.

If talking helps, I'm a good talker and a good listener all in one. If not, I was never here and you can't prove anything.

[napoleonherself.livejournal.com]

I dunno, I've been asking how long it's going to be like this since at least the second week after getting the bad news. Mechamom told me then that it meant that I was on my way, and yet here I still am with basically everything setting up a chain of association that leads to painful memories.

Talking about it requires thinking about it, which is hard enough to stop doing as it is. Why then seeing a counselor seems like a good idea I have no clue, except I guess I'm just desperate.

Fnork.

[nidoking.livejournal.com]

Chain of Memories? Like Kingdom Hearts? That could work. Video games are one of the best escapes of all.

Seeing a counselor is about the same thing as talking to a trustable friend, but more expensive.

[napoleonherself.livejournal.com]

Technically, for the first two visits, it's exactly the same. Then after that it is about twenty bucks more expensive per hour, but at least I don't have to feel extra-dumb around the friend because all the whining and unloading of problems has been to someone I only see for the purpose of whining anyway.

[nidoking.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, I wish people would see me as only for the purpose of whining, because I'd get some attention then.

Some friends want to hear about your problems. Like me. I feel like maybe I'm doing some good if I pay attention and offer advice, or condolences, or just someone to talk to. I just wouldn't feel right about taking money for it, or I'd be an overpriced counselor.

[napoleonherself.livejournal.com]

I'm, uh, sorry I don't pay enough attention? I guess? Given as that's basically what happened here and possibly thus I helped kill someone, it makes sense I guess that I would be doing it in other cases too. I don't know.

[nidoking.livejournal.com]

It's probably going to sound really cliché at this point, but it wasn't your fault. I'm just saying that, in general, people "don't like to burden me with their problems" when I really want to hear about them and maybe offer some support. I hate when people think they know what I want better than I do.

[napoleonherself.livejournal.com]

I don't know that it's a "I know what you want better than you do" thing; more a "I know what it is I have to say and it might be a lot worse than you are expecting" thing. I can't speak for everyone but I know I have trouble even THINKING about some aspects of this whole mess, let alone actually forcing myself to SAY it to someone else.

Maybe everyone is actually an alien doppleganger plotting against you. It could happen, I guess.

[nidoking.livejournal.com]

Well, I can't argue if that's the case. I just wanted to be sure that it's you, not me.

[napoleonherself.livejournal.com]

In this case it is me slash my incredibly volatile mood. I keep going from wanting to talk to wanting to do anything but talk in the span of a few short minutes, and then right back again.

Plus it seems like there is a lot of backstory (so to speak) behind everything, and explaining it to different people means thinking about it which is of the sad.

My universe is pain and emptiness, &c. Even if my shirt saying that is too ragged to wear in public anymore.