justnick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Grey Squirrel So here I am, holidays come an gone, updating at the ungodly hour of six thirty am. Life confuses me. This entry will have no structure because right now my mind has no structure and doesn't really know where it's going. This is Nick's mind on freewriting. Well first things first, why am I up this early? I was so good tonight. I've been so exhausted lately, emotionally and physically, and I just wanted a good night's rest. So I go to bed at 11. I can sleep until 9:45, no problem. Nicole gets home at about 345, and decides to give me a call. She's upset, she's angry. Her friends are douchebags, she's stoned and drunk. Not living the life she wants to lead. I say something insensitive, she gets mad. Problem, eventually, more or less solved. I can't sleep. I'm pissed off. I'm moody. Fine when she's here, so angry when she's not. She's right, I nitpick. I know I do. But some part of my brain--the part that's in control, apparently, but it didn't consult me or send me a memo prior to taking over--just wants to get a rise out of her. Get a reaction-any reaction-if it means her interacting with me emotionally. I want to be chased, I want to be cheered up, I want I want I want. But why? Why am I flailing around, kicking out at the walls? What am I looking for? She's getting tired of dealing with my bullshit, I know. I can't blame her. But I want something. I'm looking for something. But I don't know what it is. There's something wrong in some weird unidentified place inside me, and I hassle her because deep down, I suppose some part of me assumes it's either her fault or her responsability. But that's not quite right. I think I just want her to MAKE it her responsability. I always try so damn hard to hide it whenever something's bothering me, and then I get annoyed because no one seems to notice. Because I feel invisible. I've been struggling all my damn life to fade into the background, and I hate it when I get there. It's just instinct that tells me to run from everything. And then it all comes out so much later, in angry spurts of moodiness that have been buried so long in the back of my mind that when someone asks me 'what's wrong?' I honestly have no idea what to tell them. So I say 'nothing, I'm fine' because what else are you going to say and force them back down where they can bother me some other time. If you say "I don't know" to that sort of a question, people jump to all sorts of conclusions. He must be mad about something, something must have happened, he must be depressive, maybe you should 'talk to someone'. The boy needs therapy! So it all builds and builds and then I go out and powerdrink when I don't have work the next day because at least for a few hours I won't have to worry about worrying about things. an hour has passed since she called, and I still can't sleep. I can only sit in bed and ask myself just what she said or did that has me in such a huff. I come to no conclusions. She probably didn't do a damn thing wrong. And I'm not mad AT her, I'm just mad, and desperate for something to blame it on. All I know is that I'm miserable, and it feels like I've been either miserable or euphoric, mostly the former, for a couple weeks now. I usually blame it on lack of sleep. But it's the middle of the night and I'm not sleeping so I abandon that thought. I decide I don't know WHY I'm so moody lately, but damnit, she should be trying to find out. It's her responsability to sooth me, not mine. I send her a text message telling her just that. Some part of my psyche tells me that I'm being unreasonable, that I'm being an idiot. Don't send it. But it's too late, the damage is done, and I'll have to deal with it tomorrow. And I'll stick to my guns to save face, but beat myself up over it later. But the sad fact is that all kinds of stories have filled me with this idea of the perfect untouchable love. This relationship where when one person is hurting the other kows and will move mountains to make them feel better, where one look in their eyes ends all uncertainty and doubt for ever. There is no perfect love, though, just love. And that's half the appeal, right? The nitty-gritty of it. I just don't know. So I tell myself I've been too hard on her and send her another message apologising for the last one. At this point I'm beginning to feel a little crazy. What are my options, though? Out of my head it damages relationships, but inside my head it sits and festers and makes me miserable. Usually I tell myself to sleep on it when I get in these rash, emotional, needy, insecure moods. But right now, that isn't an option. I decide to call her. What the hell, she woke ME up. If she just said "what's wrong?" without me having to hint at it, everything would be ok. If she could see without me having to tell her that I want her to mother me, to make me feel better and special and important and safe, then everything would be OK. The intention itself would accomplish most of the deed. That's why I nitpick, I realise. I get upset about things because I want her to soothe me. I want her to tell me everything is going to be OK. But I don't know why there's something wrong in the first place, and she can't tell theres anything wrong at all, so I get mad at random things so that she'll have to try to make me feel better. So I do it over and over again, because it's never enough. I just want to be held and told it's all going to be OK. Money, school, all of it. I don't doubt the future of our relationship, I just doubt the future. OK then. No more nitpicking. Ring. She answers in her sleep. She mutters something that sounds like "I miss you" and then something that sounds like "are you ok?" and then something that sounds like "Lucy is trying to kill me" in response to my questions. She interrupts me mid sentence to tell me she's going to bed. Fine, fine. I woke up for HER, I think to myself, but then again I wasn't drunk or stoned, and we ARE trying not to be nitpicky, right? I say goodbye and try to sound friendly. "Bye, Chris." she says. Chris is either her ex boyfriend or her male best friend. Wonderful. Throw it on the pile. So I go online because now I know I won't get back to sleep at all and read Kelsi's entry, and its so poetic that it inspires me to write something. Not anything in particular, I just wanted t get my angst on to paper. The problem is that I envisioned it as composing art, but its come out more like emotional, verbal vomit. Oh well. 6:28 a.m. - 2006-12-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||