Wednesday, October 19, 2016

I SURVIVED BUT I PAID FOR IT


"Alexander, come back to sleep"
"I have an early meeting out of town"
"it's still dark outside"
"I know, I just need to write something down"
"why do you write like you're running out of time?
come back to bed, that would be enough"
"I'll be back before you know I'm gone"
"come back to sleep"
"this meeting's at dawn"
"well I'm going back to sleep"
"hey, best of wives and best of women"


It's strange how the shortest song in the entire two-hour musical is also the saddest, it's not even a minute long on the soundtrack. The above are its lyrics in entirety. I don't know what the saddest part is, that Alexander is writing "a note for his next-of-kin" as per the Ten Duel Commandments (another track off the musical) or the tiny sad violin part towards the end, or that "I'll be back before you know I'm gone" is a lie.

After having had the most traumatic experience of my life, my parents found out from a bill (addressed privately and confidentially to me, but you know, what the hey) and the one person whom I thought would understand, asked me why I was even inclined towards the decision I'd made. I found out for the first time in my life, that my dad and paternal grandmother hadn't wanted me, but, and I quote verbatim, that "it was too late". She didn't even share my grief for the biggest loss I've faced in my life.

I've always felt way too much, I've been called naive for always being such an advocate of love, and now I feel like, wow, I always fight for the wrong cause. I clearly don't know anything that happens in life. I've grown up a year in the past month or so, I think. About time.

Love is ridiculous. I don't know what love is. What is it?

Is it knowing that a person's favourite ice-cream flavour is dulce de leche? Is it the way you can hear someone's voice saying "hey boy" from a silly webcomic? Love is a waste of energy. It took up so much of my brain space, my memory of how someone made a joke about Daft Punk when we watched Pacific Rim, how they explain about the 3D printers at their workspace, how they calmly take everything apart, trace out parts and basically reverse engineer a car and tell me about drawing a rough model on CAD, then put it back together, all while letting me observe. How they tell me about a Spanish lisp. How every time I see grapes, my first instinct is to finish them like I did at a party we were at together. Is it in how you tell them to take care of themselves, and they say "I'm not very good at doing that" and you feel a heartache, which is ridiculous because the heart is an organ that pumps blood to your entire body and it shouldn't be feeling any ache or pain unless you have a heart attack.

A random entitled man sent me messages on social media in the last week, that I didn't respond to because I had clearly been going through too much, and it is my prerogative to reply to my social media messages or decide not to. I don't even know who he is, we're not even social media friends. His third message was "am I not Joey enough?", I suppose maybe he had gone through my past Instagram/Facebook posts to have seen me rambling about Joey. I don't know what his mindset was with this message, that I would think it was sweet that he had gone through my previous posts? That I would be provoked into replying? No, you're not Joey enough, and you don't even know the fucking half of it.

Love was something I felt a lot of, it's precisely what got me feeling attached to something that wasn't even anything yet. Why? It wasn't developed, it didn't exist. What a waste of feelings and energy and space and memory and everything. I'm sick of feelings. I'm not ready for love, whatever the fuck it is. I think it's all a farce. My life is a joke, anyway. I cried so much at the meltdown with my parents, that was the most I'd ever cried in my life, which is tragically funny, because I cry a lot, at any given time in my life.

I met my cousin today, she gave me a care package.



It's mostly chocolates, which is mostly what I need. She incidentally got me Swiss Miss hot chocolate packets too, which is the brand I drank in LA. Bill's housemates would make it for me when they woke up and made coffee for themselves.

Like everyone there thought I was a little off for drinking hot chocolate, especially Joey and his friend Bryant when we were driving in the canyons, because we'd just been driving in 100-degree (F) weather and Joey's car isn't even air-conditioned (he stripped it down to its bare minimum so it would be light).

I can't help it, I have a perspiring condition which means I'm always losing heat and always cold, and hot chocolate warms me up like nothing else does.

The past four weeks have been the worst time of my life, with absolutely no other period coming anywhere near. I haven't felt this down before, and will probably, hopefully never feel this way ever again. Let's see, I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive. That is all.

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