admission is free

I'm... sick.
I can admit it.
I have been for a long time. The symptoms are not always noticeable, but they're constantly working behind the scenes. Sometimes I don't even see what their machinations are until they come to fruition.
I'm not completely in control anymore. I'm losing entire pieces at a time. There's been points here recently where I have been able to halt the spread, and even force a bit of recidivism, but then the hand slips, the mind wanders, and the damage increases.
I'm sick and I'm not sure how to get better.

For what is now, to me, too long, I've had a companion that never forced me to be great verbal accompaniment. My moods and thoughts were readily apparent, and needed no further exploration. When I was burgeoning on a lack of sanity, I didn't need to explain myself, merely be, and it was OK. Inside that relationship, I had the luxury of internalizing.
Maybe this was the reason that things didn't work out?
I don't know why I'm still looking for a reason to blame myself. I can't help it. I wish I could. There has to be something I did wrong, because I can't stomach it otherwise.
But I'm learning.
I'm learning all the wrong lessons.
There's so much cynicism. So much wrong with people, and the way we treat each other. I can't talk to anyone without their constant condemnation of the other sex, of each other, of most of the people they know, and it's beginning to drive me crazy. Utterly and completely crazy.
Literally.

I began writing this blog as a form of therapy. A way to communicate my thoughts and feelings in an emotionally honest way. I've chosen to keep specifics and names out of here as a measure of indemnification for the affected parties, and for the most part, it's been successful. For the most part.
It is difficult for me to gauge who does and doesn't read this, but in a way I guess this affords me a little more freedom to be honest.

and I'm not

not entirely, at least.

Outside of this forum, I've begun speaking about my consideration to seek therapy. For most of my life, I've been able to lay out a problem and see some sort of solution, or at least a way through, but now, now I'm realizing this has probably done me more harm than good. Upon reflection, if I dig back far enough, I haven't grown up a single fucking bit.

I'm still expressing my emotions in cowardly little ultimatums, and then running away from the blast. I don't know how to approach people, I don't know how to have honest conversations about topics that make me the least bit uncomfortable. I don't know how to express and release anger without it turning into rage. A lot of the time, I feel empty. When I am overcome by emotion, it becomes the over-reaction of a child, crying or screaming or bounding, but there is no medium. No sense of contentment, or happiness, or annoyed, or sad, I skip over the healthy steps and break into the outer limits. Anything else I bury deep enough that I don't have to see it surface until it has mutated out of control.

And this, this writing, it's not helping me.

It's nothing more than an excuse. Freedom, yes, but without honesty. It's a crutch, a reason not to have emotional conversations with people, an easy release valve as a substitution for real human interaction.

To be honest, the world we live in makes it incredibly easy not to have any real interaction if we so choose it.

I've expressed a desire, many times, to be more normal. My friends think that I want to remove the things that people think are strange, or unique about myself. This couldn't be farther from the truth. I love the things that differentiate me, that make me who I am. But I'm missing a lot of the pieces that enable a person to move through life.

The way I've established relationships of any sort has almost always been peripheral, as the result of other situations, or an established lateral movement in social topography. Maintenance of said relations always suffer at the hands of other focal points; this ability of interaction which for most people is nearly vestigial, but something that I never properly nurtured. My tendency has always been towards a small, tight-knit group of people, to the exclusion of all else. Unfortunately, when these relations fall through, it doesn't really leave me with much to stand on.

So in the aftermath, I've embedded myself in these wispy arenas, where I can make vague demands, and instead of telling people how I feel, I can release these thoughts in directionless statements, hoping that the person I really want to say things to takes my meaning-instead of just telling them directly how I feel.
(I'm going to be guilty of this at least one more time before this is over.)

This is why I feel I need therapy. I need a way to let out the things that go on in my head, without repercussion, without rejection, without judgment. I need someone who can help weed out the overtly irrational parts of my social brain. I can't deal with these problems on my own any more, and I need help.

---

Yes, I do need to apologize. In the comparatively short time I've known you, I've alternated between abject silence and ridiculous outburst. I'm sorry that you've had to suffer the brunt of whatever psychosis is rumbling its way through my head. I'm acting out in very stupid ways to deal with all of this, and for that I'm also sorry.


That very first time, I asked that we sink or swim on our personalities alone, and throw all the pretense aside, and I've done a terrible job holding up my end of that bargain.


And you have been so incredibly gracious, I can only hope I'm deserving of it.

--

In short, I'm going to be backing off of a lot of things, at least for the time being. Facebook and Twitter will be the most noticeable in the short run, and I'm not sure what else this will change. I'm not shutting them down, because abstinence without temptation is worthless, and teaches nothing.

I need to figure out who I am, because too long I've had a serious of emotional crutches and co-dependencies.

Unfortunately, for now, that means this blog, too.

At least until I make some progress.

Refunds will be at the door.

Stoke

The crackling of the wood had been the only sound for a good ten minutes. Sparks danced on unseen drafts of heat, performing their ballet into the treetops until their light winked out, rendering them into mere ash. But even then, they danced a bit more, until they slowly drifted to their final resting place; to the river, or the soil, where what was left of their fiery life became fuel and food for another spark. Those gathered around the fire sat in silence, watching the dance, each other, and, most importantly, their memeories. It was Anne that spoke first.

"I found it dischordant. The symphony would've been so much sweeter without that sound." At this, she got stern glances from Kadiff and Luna. Prigga looked to retort, but then begrudgingly lowered her gaze. "I'll admit it was oddly alluring, at first, but then it fell completely out of sync with anything I cared for. I know it was an important part, but it wasn't what I wanted to hear. Hell, even the parts of it I did want were either played wrong or weren't played at all!"

---
I'm sorry. I felt used. You felt used. I believe you were mistaken, but I can't blame you for the thought. On the other hand, I know I was nothing but a distraction.
---

It was Luna who finally responded. "It was there for an important reason. I learned a lot from that sound. As askew as it may have been, it laid the groundwork for something much bigger. I think that as a part of the whole, it was a good thing. Its not the part that I liked the most, but the next phase would've been nothing without the prior syncopated cacophony it added in." Anne snorted. The others all gave Luna a look that resembled a mixture of understanding and bewilderment. At the very least it was not the usual sentiment she brought across.

---
Thank you for being strong when I wasn't, thank you for being kind when I was addicted to self-flagellation. Thank you for giving me your world for a short time, even though we both knew I would never last. Thank you.
---

Kadiff picked up a long branch, and pushed the logs around for a few moments, sending more dancers into the sky to burn out, to fade away. "I loved it. I still love it." Stirring the fire as if it were a pot, it began burning fiercely. "I don't want to hear it again. Ever."

Prigga looked at her, aghast. "I could hardly hear the thing over your pining! Just as it was reaching its crescendo, you began talking over it, singing other songs it inspired you to think of and create, you squandered it for me, and now I'll never hear it the same way again! It was downright selfish of you, damn it all! Selfish, and you've ruined it for me, and now you say you don't want to hear it again? You ought to be ashamed."

Kadiff glanced up with tears in her eyes.

"I am."

---
There... are no words. My anger itself is the reason why I am blinded to my anger. It shuts me down, a defense mechanism, and there are moments I can see myself as if through a foggy mirror, and I want to scream. I want to have the rage of the wind and the storm and howl against the world, crashing and destroying everything in my wake...
//
and then there is stillness. My attempt at not believing in distraction, my taking of something only for the benefit of myself, uncaring of what happened. This is not who I am, this is not who I have ever been. This is why it hurt me more than it ever could have hurt you.
---

A distant rumbling of thunder rolled across the valley, signaled to the sisters that this meeting was soon to be over. Kadiff would stay for the rain, as was her wont, but the rest had other duties to tend to, other stories to tell, other lives to tend. None of them made the move to get up, not yet.

"What about you, Ember?" Kadiff muttered under her breath. The sisters looked first at Kadiff, then craned their heads to that seat, further away from the fire, the one so far on the periphery that it was nearly forgotten, and in fact had been, for most them.

Ember finally looked up, the glow of the last few coals still burning reflecting in my eyes. "You don't know me, any of you. I think I like it better this way. My counsel is my own."

---
What about you, Ember?