“Somebody help me through this nightmare. I can’t control myself!”
A line from a song by Three Days Grace, my new favourite band. They totally rock. Their videos are kinda weird though. I’ve got them playing in my headphones, so their lyrics are likely to punctuate my muttering. I nicked this style off here, no props for originality 🙂
This is bound to be my longest post yet. It’s also likely to offend a lot of people, so you might want to skip this one.
“I feel so much better now that you’re gone forever. I tell myself that I don’t miss you at all.”
My friend W gave me some advice. He said I shouldn’t hide from my pain. I should feel it then heal. I’m surprised, no, amused, at how good I’ve become at hiding from my pain.
One place I hide a lot is on twitter. Coz in there I’m popular. I’ve never been popular before, and I’m rather enjoying the feeling. But truth is, that isn’t really me. The giggles and bubbles only last as long as it takes me to tweet them. Granted I can be like that with specific people in my life. There are people with whom I’m a motor-mouth, there’s no shutting me up. With them I giggle and play and laugh out loud. And my high school diary reads like a hard copy twitter transcript. But for the most part, I’m just not outgoing.
“Over and over, over and over, I fall for you. Over and over, over and over, I try not to.”
I don’t know what makes me like certain people and dislike others. It’s usually instant. I meet a person and decided papo hapo hapo whether I like them or not. I feel no need to justify or understand such affection, I just accept it and act on it. But when it’s dislike, I tend to sit, overthink, and try to find out why it is that I don’t like said person. Sometimes I change my mind about the person, but not often.
Twitter is like that. There are people I’ve liked instantly, some not so much. I don’t deliberatlely follow anyone, and all my twitter pals are people who followed me first. Except of course for my first five, those ones were handpicked and custom made. **grin**
“It’s not fair when you say that I didn’t try. I just don’t wanna hear it anymore. I swear I never meant to let it die. I just don’t care about you anymore.”
When someone follows me, I go on their page, read their tweets, watch how they talk to other people, decide if I like them or not, then click ‘follow’. Sometimes I unfollow, if someone seems ingenuine, or if they say something that bothers me. And when I log on in the morning, I look around first, see who’s saying what, then decide who I want to talk to for the day. Sometimes my reconnaisance takes as long as two hours, or until someone calls me out. I could never resist a shoutout.
So my interactions on twitter are never as random or extroverted as they seem. I am always dealing with one person at a time, on an individual level. But since there are so many one-on-ones, I end up looking like the social butterfly I am not. I don’t think I’ll meet many of my twitter friends in person. I think they’d be disappointed.
“Wake up, I’m pounding on your door. I won’t hurt you anymore. Where the hell are you when I need you?”
It’s easy to fake stuff online, but in person, me sitting in the group watching and listening as I decide who to engage would not go down well. Besides, I never really know what to say in conversations. So I look around for cues and if none present themselves, I stay quiet. On twitter I can read people’s tweets until I find an opening. In person, that wouldn’t really work. Yes, I know I overthink things. And Elton John is gay.
“No matter how hard I try, you’re never satisfied. This is not a home I think I’m better off alone. You always disappear even when you’re here. This is not my home I think I’m better off alone.”
W suggested I should find myself, and I overthinked it [overthought just sounds wrong.] I was going to do this post jana, but s**t hit, and so today it comes out different. I was going to list the stuff I know about me, then tribute ten special men in my life. Well, right now, one isn’t talking to me, one has failed me, and I’m wondering who I’ll piss off next. I’m thinking I might just stop talking altogether, that way nobody can get upset.
It bothers me when people are hurting, especially people I care about. I always want to fix it somehow. So when I know I caused the hurt, well, what to do? Also, I exaggerate my feelings, even to myself, so I always think I’m more upset/excited/ecstatic than I actually am. Especially when I write it down. I think better when I write. I thought I communicate better too, but clearly, that is a big FAIL.
“Do you think about everything you’ve been through, you never thought you’d be so depressed. Are you wondering if it’s life or death? Do you think that there’s no one like you?”
I discovered chat maybe two years ago, and I thought it was the best thing ever. It let me mingle without mingling, because truth to tell, I don’t really like people. I find them strange and incomprehensible. Granted I’ve met a lot of exceptions, but generally, the human race sucks. So I liked that I could get to know people from the comfort of my monitor, and delete anyone who proved dirtbag. Twitter was a natural next step, and the blessed unfollow button helped a lot.
But then the e-crushes started. I am not attracted to people’s looks. Yes I’m a visual person, and I like the pretty ones, and drool like anyone. But for the most part, I’m attracted to people’s minds, their natures, their vibe. So it’s easy for me to fall for someone online, and I did, several times over. Bad idea. I’ve heard people say chat and text are bad ways to know people, because there’s no tone or body language, but I always assume I can get a person’s vibe, even online. And since I’m completely myself when i chat, I assumed everyone else was as well.
But after a few cases of lost in transcription, I’m not so sure. It’s quite likely I won’t make any new friends online. I’m just too afraid of pissing people off and spreading my madness, so back to the periphery for me. There are a few people who I think can handle me, but still, I’m wary.
“First time you screamed at me, I should have made you leave, I should have known it could be so much better. I hope you’re missing me. I hope I’ve made you see that I’m gone forever.”
I’m brutally honest with my friends, and I expect the same from them. When I upset people, I wish they’d say what I did wrong so I can fix it. I like to fix things. I wish people would stop sparing my feelings with lies. It hurts so much more when the truth comes out, and it always comes out.
Also, don’t ask for my opinion unless you’re sure you can hack it. Coz when you ask once, I’ll take it as an open season permit to always tell you what I think. Until the day you blow up on me and shock me into twilence. That came out sounding a lot more passive aggressive that I intended.
“If I needed someone to control me, if i needed someone to push me around, I would change my direction and save myself before I drown.”
I heard someone say somewhere that communication is a hoax. People will hear what they want to hear regardless of how you frame it. And that bothers me. I get that people misunderstand things. That’s why I need to talk. I need to be able to ask you what it is you think I said, so I can clarify. It may take hours, it may take days, but it won’t take a minute if you shut me out. I hate when people shut me out.
I don’t usually stay where I’m not wanted. So, if you don’t want me around, just say so in plain English and I’ll be gone. No glyphs, no codes, none of that ‘it’s not you it’s me’ crap. Just say ‘get lost’ and I will leave. Really. Just don’t expect me there when you change your mind, I do have my pride.
“Pain. Without love. Pain. Can’t get enough. Pain. I like it rough [well actually no i don’t, but that’s what the song says] coz I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.”
Someone asked me yesterday, who is Crystal. Fair enough, now that I’m finding myself. I always say that I know myself pretty well, and I’m obssessed with the whole ‘being me’ and ‘being true to myself’ thing. It’s an INFJ trait apparently. But how can I be true to myself when I’m constantly changing?
Well, there’s stuff about me that is pretty constant. I love books. I haven’t read any in ages, and I’m not sure what kind I like anymore, but I am still at my blissfullest when I’m buried in pages. I guess it’s why I’m good at my job, which basically has me reading manuscripts all day. I love the feel of paper, the sound of pages turning, the smell of a new printout. Even with e-books, articles [and some blogs], I print them out then read them offline.
“We had fire in our eyes in the beginning. I never felt so alive, in the beginning. You blame me but it’s not fair when you say that I didn’t try. I just don’t wanna hear it anymore.”
I love to write. Always have. It’s cathartic, it’s how I express myself, share myself. Some things I write for no one to read, and mostly I’m happy once it’s down on the page. So blogging was a natural progresion for me. I love my laptop. I would cry if it ever crashed or got stolen. Really.
I love music. Rock mostly, soft rock, or alternative or Emo or punk or whatever. Never metal. I like some Tracy Chapman and SSQ and a few other things, but largely, I’m a rock chick. Not Afro-fusion. I’m sorry, but that jazzy stuff just doesn’t do it for me. Though I’m partial to Ella and Duffy and Norah. And Shu is just cute. Ditto for Didge. Forget what all those msn things say about boys and cute – for me, cute is good.
” I hate everything about you. Why do I love you?”
I get lost in my music. I can do nothing but sit with my eyes closed and let the music wash over me. But I don’t usually, coz it seems like a waste of time to just sit and listen to music. So I have to have some sensible task to accompany my euphoria, like typing reports or doing laundry or cleaning up – all of which I do rarely. I do occasionally allow myself sessions of nothing-but-music, but not often. Mostly there has to be some accompanying task, like, oh, I dunno … work?
I am a mother. That will never change. And a big sister. In my mind my over-six-foot brothers are still babies and their girlfriends are demon spawn trying to corrupt them. Ok, perhaps I exaggerate. A little. I am not the sister-in-law from hell. Really. And they’re not married yet. I am also a daughter. I need to work on that one – my big head doesn’t make me very daughterly **grin**
“I could be mean. I could be angry. You know I could be just like you! I could be fake. I could be stupid. You know I could be just like you. You thought you would sit beside me. You were only in my way. You’re wrong if you think that I’ll be just like you.”
So then who is Crystal? A book lover. A writer. A mother. A romantic. Those are my constants. Oh and I like to ride my bike, and eat ice cream and chocolate and cookies, though lately more of the first and less of the other three coz my weight issues are creeping back. Residual effects of being 80kg at age twelve – I never want to be that big again.
I love water. Swimming, showering, listening to the waves on the beach, running the tap. Anything with water for me is bliss. I don’t know if I’m a water sign – I forget. Is sagittarius a water sign?
“I will not die, I’ll wait here for you. I feel alive when you’re beside me. I will not die, I’ll wait here for you in my time of dying.”
I like cartoons. Very specific cartoons. I like pretty animes and have been known to have crushes on some. I believe the term otaku applies here … or was that Japanese mafia? I forget. But anyway, I like cartoons. Danger Mouse, Duckula, Victor & Hugo, Sheep in the Big City, Thundercats, Tom & Jerry, the list is endless. And I think Cartoon Network should be branded PG.
“I will not leave alone everything that I own to make you feel like it’s not too late. It’s never too late.”
I write for me, because I need to. Of course I want people to read, to be moved, to be enlightened, maybe even to change, but most of all I write for me. So once I write, I am sated. Mostly. Except when I wonder if anyone is listening. That bugs me sometimes, thinking my words flew over people’s heads and drifted into nothingness. That bothers me.
I think best when I think aloud, so I value the friends who let me rant. I know it gets annoying, and I really don’t know how they put up with me, or why. But I’m glad they do. They are all my preciouses. I could list them here … but they might get mad at being exposed for being loopy enough to hear me speak **grin** So just know my darlings, that y’all are appreciated, very much so, and I shall one day repay in chocolate 🙂
“If you wanna get out alive, oh-oh run for your life”
I’d include the guitar riffs if I knew how to spell them. This song is like pure candy! Dark though. Dark candy. I want to ice-skate to this song, or do a flower-petal dance. What I just said makes perfect sense in my head **grin** Anyway, I was saying I think best when I think out loud. So most days when I’m ranting at my special ones, I’m really just sorting things in my head. I want them to be open and yell at me when I need it and hug me when I need hugging, not to be all soft soft and sparing. When I need a ngoto, give it. And to bear with me however stubborn I seem, it’s what friends do.
I am grateful for my friends.
I sometimes think there is no one like me out there. I long to be understood, to be loved and accepted for who I am, But most days I am resigned to the fact that no one will ever really get me. It’s kind of sad. Some people like that no one gets them, but me, I just wish someone would.
“No time for goodbye he said as he faded away. Don’t put your life in someone’s hands, they’re bound to steal it away. Don’t hide from your mistakes, they’ll find you, burn you.”
I value my Friend ML because about 80% of the time she does get me. And my friend Jemu thinks I’m absolute alien, but she takes me for me, and I love her for that. But I still long for that elusive someone who enjoys my quirks. My other friends tolerate me, which is hard, and I adore them for that too. You are all very special to me.
I don’t much like alcohol. As a kid, I saw grown ups that I respect go stupid over booze. The lesson I learnt is that beer makes people stupid. Wine and whisky’s worse. I swore I’d never date a drinker, but then I married one. And left him. But not before he left me.
“If I stay it won’t be long till I’m burning on the inside. If I go i can only hope that I’ll make it to the other side.”
I like the taste of spirits, but I’m afraid to get addicted. I’ve been called arrogant for dismissing drinkers. An attractive man drops many notches when I find he drinks. Or smokes. Thanks to her dad, my baby thinks alcohol is evil. I won’t change her mind. But I met at least two boys that are still polite when they’re drunk and I adore them both, so I’m mellowing.
I wonder if anyone can enjoy living with me. I wonder if I’ll ever cut my hair. I wonder if I’ll meet a boy with green eyes. I like green eyes. I wonder if I’m funny. When I chat with boys online they are always laughing, but I’ve never made a boy laugh in person. I’d like that, to talk to a boy and have him laugh. Not because I’m a clown, but because I’m making him happy. I like making people happy. I like it when people laugh.
I’m all talked out now. Not sure if I’ve found myself. Not sure if I even feel better. But I really have nothing more to say. Is this what it means to feel my pain?
“Now it seems you’re leaving, but we’ve only just begun. And you’ve nowhere else to go so I wait for you to take me all the way.”