When you spend stretches of time unable to actually do anything, it’s useful to know how to entertain, or at least occupy yourself, with your own thoughts, which I have done over and over during meetings and dance lessons and soccer practices and teachers lecturing idiot students and lunches with nobody to talk to and long drives and drives and drives and never-ending waits. I am only surprised that people who, before, dominated so much of my time have not come up sooner…but I’ve thought of them both and wondered at what exactly has happened. Not a specific that happened, but in general.
I nearly made the mistake of thinking that I had changed, but I have not. I don’t feel like “changed” is the right word. I think that what happened is that I’ve progressively been discovering what I actually am and what I might actually be like or want…I didn’t change, I just didn’t know myself so well as I do now. It’s the acquisition of self-knowledge that does it.
But I don’t know everything yet, and I don’t expect to, for, “How can I know all the sins lurking in my heart?” (Psalm 19:12)
I don’t know how other people claim to be sure of themselves. I know more about me than anyone, and I do not know all.
For instance, this inexplicable sadness. I thought it was a teenaged thing and I would grow out of it. But before I could find out, I was hurt more badly than I had anticipated was possible (for that situation, at least), and it never went away and never went away and that hurt became the central thing I could feel. It was everything. My waking and my sleeping and my thinking and my writing and my every media choice. I believe I know what it is to be consumed by something…and then, as I descended to darker and darker levels of myself, I discovered that there is this thing that lives inside me and wonders why I allowed myself to become such a wretched and worthless creature. And then the hurt was displaced by reason-consuming anger.
We’ve been over this.
But…what I’ve been contemplating is how hotly that anger had to blaze in order to burn away the unrelated hurt that attached itself to me for so long. I don’t feel hurt now. I just feel sorry that I don’t love you anymore. On the bright side though, you aren’t dead to me. That happened to someone else, which is why I can still come and see you and pretend I don’t care that much. (You know I’m a liar, right? …I probably still love you.)
But that’s not it, either. What it is this time is the sadness. I cannot account for it, now that neither of you can hurt me. What cause have I to feel sorrow?
It’s not the piercing, anger-laced kind that I had felt in recently passed months. It’s not the hopeless kind that causes me to hold back my weeping when people simply bother to be kind to me…I honestly can’t tell what kind it is.
What could possibly be wrong with me this time?
I feel fine. I am getting along with people. My family has no argument with me (well, excepting a small transgression in relation to a rule that I didn’t think applied to me because of why it was actually made…), I have been very agreeable to K and what all she would like me to do for the wedding, I’ve been getting along with people at work and dispite the incredible slowness of business today, they didn’t try to send me home, but trained me to work in the box office instead. Even our seemingly least-agreeable manager has had a friendly word for me, so I feel good about that.
Things are well with Jester. I am happy with how things are going between us, and you careful readers know that I don’t usually say that I’m happy about anything…hence my occasional overuse of the words “pleased” or “content.”
They don’t mean the same.
So…if things are mostly well or doing as well as I can expect at the present, what have I to feel sad or down about?
I don’t know. Nothing? I don’t know.
I felt a flicker of rage and the phantom taste of blood when I heard that song the other day and thought of you. I feel ashamed to think of you as dead, knowing that might happen. But I can’t be responsible for everyone. I keep being told this, and I don’t want to feel responsible for you. But…I help but wonder. If something happened to you, I feel sure I would be told. I wouldn’t want to be told and surely people must know this, but it wouldn’t stop them telling me.
Then how would I react? I don’t want to be sympathetic, but I would be too much of a monster if I didn’t react. Wouldn’t I? So even if I found I felt nothing toward that situation, I would still be required to weep for you in order to maintain that I am not a monster.
But we already know that I am. And am not.
Like…the people that love me will shrink back and call me a vampire (and mean it), and then try to adopt me because they so want to look after me, or get all emotional about how sweet and caring I am, and in the next breath, acknowledge that they can see the beast looking out of my eyes and know that they don’t want it angry with them.
It’s what she saw and made her tell me I wasn’t the devil, because he couldn’t have that capacity for sympathy. And she’s right. But she’s not. If the sympathy makes me human, then this sympathy is tainted. I think I am wrong to be angry about some of the things I get angry about. I am wrong to want to save things. People. I feel like I have to since nobody else is doing it. And that’s the worst way I can put it (but I mean it so differently!), but I feel like this makes me a worse person. The desire to save isn’t bad…but when you feel anger at whomever you think is supposed to be doing it and isn’t…that’s where it goes wrong. And that’s me.
And…ah, ah…I almost forgot I had been angry, there. I let praise get the better of me…and then heard that my affinity with the dark was being called into question. Again.
Do you know that I had tricked myself into thinking I could be a Goth in peace? How easily I forget that there are people who don’t really know me and might not understand…which is ASTONISHING, since I tell myself over and over that nobody will ever know me.
Well, at least I know I’m a Goth now. I’m not going to pretend otherwise, or act like I don’t mean it when I do. If I am a vampire, I am still helpless enough that you’ll want to care for me. If I am a beast, I am still a very sweet and affectionate one. If I am a devil, I still have good intentions.
…what am I doing? This isn’t what I mean at all!
Cross that all out.
I felt bad this morning, so I listened to him and felt better. I’m surprised I haven’t done it more. If you don’t believe you can receive hugs through the ear, then you are mistaken.
I don’t know what I’d do without them.