I've been avoiding writing for a while... Even though I set up this blog to write down my honest thoughts and experiences, sometimes I don't want to. Sometimes I want to hide from myself and not know what's going on in my life. But there comes a time when you have to face up to it, or it'll control you more and hold you down.
Been home 4 days now. After having so many great times, it feels... Empty... Empty to be home. It's like, 'what am I going to do with myself now?' I've played my instruments a crazy amount, which makes me feel somewhat better. But I'm listless, restless, so much emptier than I was... There's always an adjustment phase after returning, always a moment where you have to stop beating yourself up for all the stupid things you've done and said recently and... Just smile at the good times.
See, that's the problem with me - once I start coming down again, all those negative little beasties like to come up and smack me in the face. They try to tell me that someone must be thinking this, because I said or did that, or that someone else will never talk to me again because of another action... It spins around and around and around...
And, meanwhile, in Saneville, that's literally just across the water from the hypnotic Hyperville and directly above Miseryville... There's a part of me watching everything that's going on, trying to rationalise it all, saying that it'll pass, you just have to ride the waves, etc., quite relieved that the gates of Hyperville are quite firmly shut at the moment so at least we won't be getting ourselves into a worse pickle whilst we carry ourselves over this wave... But sometimes even the rational voices in Saneville that try to be positive and bring me around can't stop the screaming that's going on in my head...
I've always hated being intelligent, have always hated being able to rationalise things, know what's going on. Yes, I don't always know what's going on or what I'm doing at the time, which essentially makes it far harder for me, the knowing afterwards what I did and why I did and... I always know afterwards. Always. Always can see everything (which is when the finger pointer comes up as I'm looking at things, and starts saying that someone's looking at me in a specific way because of that stupid thing I did. Yeah). In some ways, at least it can make it easier to bring myself around, to try and control the phases and not let myself get so wound up. Sometimes it works. And when it doesn't... This little brain full of all those rational thoughts knowing what and why I did something, after the fact, after I couldn't control it... It's thinking, 'shit, how the hell are we going to get ourselves out of this one, this time??!' Whilst all the while Miss Negative is prodding and poking and laughing and telling me how stupid I am for doing this that or the other...
It's like one big, boiling soup. A rather unappetising soup at times. And Miss Intelligent and Miss Rational have to work together to find some way out of the boiling, steaming mass. It is actually these two that fear the most, try their best to get us safe out of awkward situations because they fear that they'll be forgotten amongst all the chaos, and if they're ever forgotten all will be lost... But they also know that we could be so much more if we could just keep those little beasties in check a little longer...
Strangely enough, it's actually Hyperville that's the hardest to return from. Once I get excitable, once I get going... Sometimes I don't want to come down, sometimes I don't want to come back. Sometimes I can do so much whilst in that excitable state that I'm left feeling broken once I'm pulled away from it. And also, I don't care - I care far less about what people think of me and just care about being me, being around and interacting with the people I like, doing all I can and having a good time. Nothing else matters. Nothing.
Now, in Miseryville... Everything matters. Everything matters too much. It's lonely. All I want is someone to care, someone to give me a hug, give me a smile, give me a cup of love tea. But the little beasties are saying that they'll never come back, because of all those things I did, because I dared to allow people to see sides of me that I normally hide, because I dared to let go and be myself.
I know there are so many out there that have things harder, have had things harder. I feel guilty at times that I let the beasties run away with me and tell me of my own devastation. I know that my suffering is mostly because of how much I suffered in the past, because it is impossible to change what happened, because I can't be anyone else than a product of that at times, in my reactions, in who I am. I know so well that I'd be a different person without all that, perhaps some of it would be positive, but I don't believe all of it would. But my suffering is shadows of the past that still walk alongside me, whilst others are still genuinely suffering greatly.
But I can't be anyone else but me. I've tried, before, and what happened? I felt worse. I felt fake. So I gave myself my own identity, my own unique identity, because none of us are alike. I wish I could say that if people don't like it then it doesn't matter, but it hurts every single time. And that pain, I feel now, whether it's needed or not. But it's more a fear... It's a fear because of what I've seen before, because of what's happened before, because of what I expect to happen again.
And this thing that I fear most of all? Rejection and being alone.
