Undone

In my torrid little world (which I created, and all of you exist in, but I made your characters suit me right) I have torrid little dramas, because I may have created all of the characters… but they act of their own will now. And it’s a little frustrating. Because *sighs* it seems even my own mind is turning against me, and all I want is

to NOT feel like this anymore. I don’t like feeling that all I want from the world is always out of reach from me, because i’m too slow. Because I have it, and I cherish it, and then it gets put away from me, and it’s almost like i never really had it to begin with. And I can’t help but feel it’s because I didn’t say something, or do something. and if i had dome those things, that i’d still have it.

and it’s frustrating. and it’s not so much the emotion behind it all. Not knowing if there’s something wrong about me, or if i could have done something, if i could make myself better…. prettier– to fix it all. And there’s times in life that you just wonder–

why everything you want seems to be just out of your range. *blinks* Sorry, I’m htinking about how even if you aim low, the damn bastard’s standards are set too high for you. Talk about a kick in the stomach. You think you’re slumming it ….. and he rejects you because…. God knows why. I could Guess until my eyes crossed, on why J dumped me out of no where, but my mind knows why, and so does my heart.

because he didn’t love me. Because he didn’t see me as anything more than a whore. Because he … wasnt any good for me…. and because he abused me in ways– that no one should ever be abused… not that anyone should be abused at all. and because no matter what he did to your spirit, soul, self-esteem, and to my body– I never bended my will. I left that relationship as clean as i entered it.

That’s why.

I’d give everything to him, but my will. and he hated me for that. I guess it’s something I have. My will is for God, and God Alone.

…. i wish I could just stop feeling this way …..

Oi, I wrote this poem when I had broken up with J, and i was completely devestated, wondering why, and what i could have done…. It’s called Internal Struggle

Kisses felt-
never happened
Not that I know of,
Yet I remember them
With passionate feeling-
And Yet,
You haven’t even met me
But I’ve known you for a long time

And now you know me-
I wish I was better
Skinnier,
Prettier…..
Why does it hurt?

Your voice
Makes me happy
More that Moonlight
More than Love itself….
And that same voice-
Makes me want to die-
Want to kill myself…

An Internal struggle, and It will never end.

It has a bit of commentary… not entirely true so much anymore. I dont feel like this all the time– but i have to admit it’s sometimes:

I love this one. I feel like this nearly all the time. Sure the guy i feel that way about changes from time to time. But someday– it’ll always stay the same. It’ll be nice. Anyway another moody piece from yours truly.

Derringer Meryl [dwelling on the past ruins the present] Out

People always say “Admitting you have a problem is the first step.”

I have come to believe that naming the problem is the first step– maybe it’s part of the admittance, but, whatever. I mean all my life i’ve known that i was a little off. Never had many friends, and I knew it was my fault, i was scared and clingy– and yet, I wanted people to be close to me, but I didn’t want to be close to them. It was odd, and i hated the contradictory feeling it left me with.

Because in the end, I didn’t know what I wanted. I was confused, and scared by myself, so honestly I wasn’t surprised when other people were scared of me too. I, like them, wanted to get the hell away. Maybe that’s why Red and I are so compatible. We seem tobe on the same emotional swing, where we embrace each other, and push each other away, and like true codependents, say the other one did it, when it really was ourselves.

Sad– Ne? And like in any abusive relationship, it’s always the little things that drive us apart, and silly little things that bring us together.

Honest, I know people in Red’s life have filled the Codependent Abuser (and abusee) space before, I know i’m not the first…. Because this isn’t a problem that just appears. And I personally think that most Therapists are just guessing as to why we have the problems we do– so I figure I can do the same.

I think Colonel Mustard did it in the Library with the Candle stick… Kinky… err… sorry.

I think it’s because both Red and I had to grow up fast. We both dealt with our own abuse things. I got “Help” from three therapy sessions (Note to self, sue Blue Cross Blue Shield, they suxor) and she had to do it herself. We both had to deal with adult situations at a young age– I was forced to goto my friend’s house, and even at my young age — i had Asian best friends (maybe it was a sign that someday i’d love all things asian…) they were immigrants, and didn’t speak english at home. Do you know how frightening Cambodian sounds to a five year old? Very. Very Very VERY.

I can’t speak for Red, I don’t know much about her childhood, but I know it wasn’t a happy go lucky one, like a childhood should be.

There are some things about my Childhood that even my therapist and Red don’t know about.

Things I tuck away– and try not to let them ruin my life… because i know if i remember them– I’m as good as dead to the world.

Derringer Meryl [Repressing] Out

here’s some more of that grey matter exploding fun–

It’s the Memorial day weekend, and despite how much we may sedate my father with SSRI’s he’s still a grumpy ass monkey. He has mood swings that make mine pale in comparison. He assumes (not unlike me) that every one knows exactly what is going on inside of his mind, that when he snaps his fingers and says “That one thing, you know?” we all completely understand him, but are just being rude jackasses.

I guess we learned it from him.

I don’t know why he irratates me so– Maybe it’s because he’s so lukewarm. Some days he’s my dad. MINE, you know, and I can be his little girl…. and other days I’m my mom’s. I remember so vividly from when I was little …. he got angry about something– and yelled at my mom that “One of her damn kids must have done it.” we were always the easy scapegoat. always.

and i’ve always wondered if it was better to have a lukewarm, mood swing dad, than no dad at all. Then I remember what Christ said (and trust me, he’s like Buddha and Ghandi in the way that most of his stuff made a WHOLE lotta sense) “Be ye hot, or be ye cold, but be not lukewarm lest I spit ye out of my mouth.” Err something like that. It boiled down to “Be bad, be good, be something, cause being in the middle, just pisses me off.”

I’m sure I condemned myself with that last line… eh.

I told my boss, the real flaky one who had like 4 kids from two different women, and only one of them while he was married to the mother. *shakes her head* I told him, that he had such potential to be a great dad. That I wanted him to be what my dad was never for me. Sure, my dad changed a lot for me, he went to school so he could raise me right—

But I don’t know. Some of the things he’s done. Like making me afraid of getting married, or dating– afraid of loving someone– I already know that I pick scummy guys. They seem nice and pretty on the surface, but that’s the cheap gold gilding they put on until I’m in too deep. Then it all flakes off and then– then i’m stuck with a crap load of bad memories, and an extreme skittish-ness.

I don’t walk on the bad side. In fact, I’m pretty sure I walk no where near it. I admire it from afar, where it still looks enticing, and say “Wow, bad side, That’s neat.” and keep going my merry way. I’m safe and secure, and so deeply entrenched in my shell that no one can even tell by the stupid mask I put on. I try my damnedest to keep true to how i’m feeling– but…. I wouldn’t be able to leave my house, walk through a crowd, or talk to anyone outside of my family (or my second family of co-workers). It’s hard– I hate being touched. I don’t even like to be touched by my own family. Not my dad, my siblings– my mom is about the limit. She’s always right. *sighs* I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t touch customers, I dont touch teachers, I dont’ like hugging my fetchin’ therapist. Amy, My mom, Carolyn…. and that’s about it. Notice very carefully that no guys fall into that VERY short list.

why? because despite how well i get along with guys, I think it happens to be a case of keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Don’t get me wrong– I love my guy friends, they’re all great, and while some of them have the tendency to piss me off to no end– *sighs* i don’t hate them, obviously, otherwise they wouldn’t be on my list of friends (duh) but guys are the enemy. I guess I’m still psychologically at the “boys have cooties” stage of life. and I hate that. Because trust me, I’ve fallen for a guy before. So my brain is going “Hey, You don’t like them, they’re bad, they do bad things your mind and your heart, and you in general. You shouldn’t be doing this.” and my heart just keeps screaming “You need the contact, you need to take a chance, you need to love, you need to move past that stage– It could be that man that can love you forever.”

and It hurts. Like i always have a conflict going on inside of me, driving me a little— no a lot, crazy. and so — i leave you with the thoughts (echoing mine in every possible way) of Matchbox 20 in their new song Unwell

All day staring at the ceiling

Making friends with shadows on my wall

All night hearing voices telling me

That I should get some sleep

Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on

Feeling like I’m headed for a breakdown

And I don’t know why

But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell

I know right now you can’t tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see

A different side of me

I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired

I know right now you don’t care

But soon enough you’re gonna think of me

And how I used to be…me

I’m talking to myself in public

Dodging glances on the train

And I know, I know they’ve all been talking about me

I can hear them whisper

And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me

Out of all the hours thinking

Somehow I’ve lost my mind

But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell

I know right now you can’t tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see

A different side of me

I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired

I know right now you don’t care

But soon enough you’re gonna think of me

And how I used to be

I’ve been talking in my sleep

Pretty soon they’ll come to get me

Yeah, they’re taking me away

But I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell

I know right now you can’t tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see

A different side of me

I’m not crazy, I’m just a little impaired

I know right now you don’t care

But soon enough you’re gonna think of me

And how I used to be

Yeah, how I used to be

How I used to be

Well, I’m just a little unwell

How I used to be

How I used to be

I’m just a little unwell

Derringer Meryl [head exploding] out

Life keeps passing me by

Seriously. I had a good friend, she and I didn’t agree on much, she is a Buddist, I’m a member of the LDS church.

I make a lot of mistakes, and she’s a staunch Perfectionist. That doesn’t mean I don’t like her, in fact, right now, she’s the best friend I have (that isn’t directly blood related.) I’ve come to the conclusion however that I just suck at being a friend. I’m serious. I can’t express a lot of emotion– and well. I’m not really social– Social things usually end up really sucking for me. A lot, So I tend to shy away. Not to mention that friendship is usually based on proximity (that is how close they are physically) so if you have more classes with someone– then you lean towards being their friend.

It’s hard. Being a senior in high school and being a social failure at the same time. I don’t want some pity friends. I don’t want to be someone’s charity case. I don’t want someone to try and befriend me because i sit in the library at lunch.

I want something Genuine. All I know is I feel very very alone.

Like — Like everyone around me has a place in the puzzle, they fit in, in their own unique way…. and I…. I belong somewhere else. Somewhere…. different. Living here, not necessarily in this town, or state, or country, feels wrong.

Like I’m alive– but everything inside of me is rotting, falling to pieces, and no one can see. And beyond that, no one cares.

And while i know that I could never hurt anyone, not even myself…. Things inside of me scream and cry out for something more, for — a little freedom.

All I have is captive