Widdly Scuds

Every picture, every file, every everything in my special folder with your name on it. It’s not that I’d forgotten it was there, it’s that I told myself that I wouldn’t open it. That’s the reason I haven’t been able to use this computer since that day. I knew I’d open it, and I knew what it would it would do to me. Everything from the letter you wrote me before you left on your school trip to every picture to the random times when I’d record you talking to listen to while you were at school and I missed you. My favorite was when I recorded you adding my name to “You Are My Sunshine”. Fucking shit, I miss you so bad.

But it’s so damn hard when you’ve lost virtually everything. There’s nothing left for me here. It all got swept out in an instant, and the best part is, I don’t remember virtually any of it. Not to mention not remembering the last two months of the best time of my life. I don’t know if I’ve got what it takes to make it through all of this. Not this time. I just don’t know if I’ve got it in me.

Unfortunately what my friends and family fail to see is that just because I no longer have the home that I felt before, doesn’t mean that this place will suddenly be home. The fact is that here isn’t where I’m home because here isn’t me. It doesn’t reflect who I am or what I want to be, and it never has. I can only stay in a place that isn’t home for so long, and that time is soon to be up. I can’t go home, so I have to make home. As soon as possible. My home. I hate what it’s going to cause when that time comes, and I’m afraid it’ll only be me when it does, but I can’t take not waking up in a place that feels like home anymore.

Usually when shit’s this fucked in my life, as far as friendships and the like with people, my solution is to mend the wounds. It’s to move past all of what’s dragging me down, and fix things with people, but this time I’m at a weird point. Most of the people whose friendships are damaged right now I just don’t view as worth it to fix. One of my old best friends just isn’t worth mending the broken shit I’ve got with him. He’s been a decent friend to me over the years, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s only really there when I’m down. Some people would say that that’s where it counts, but when you’ve got someone who’s there for you until you become happier than him, and then he does whatever he can to try to drag you down, it’s poisonous. He’s insulted those whom I care about, and I just don’t want that shit in my life anymore. My other best friend, who has been my friend for 12+ years is still quite a good friend to me, and he’s there through the good and the bad, but he’s just present. He’s in a relationship that’s sucked everything out of him, and as a result, he’s not actually there for me, so much as just a physical presence, and I just can’t keep trying to fix that. I can’t keep trying to pretend that he hasn’t made his choices, and I can’t keep trying to change those choices just because I don’t like them. It’s selfish, even if my intention is to try to bring back the friend I miss so much. That idea alone has caused me to virtually lose myself, along with discrediting the people who are there for me. I’ve told myself this a million times, and every fucking time I go back on it, because I’m scared of losing my best friend. It’s fairly pathetic, but at the same time, he’s been the only consistent thing in my life ever, and in my head, if I lose that, I’ll lose myself, and that’s just not fucking true. Hell, I don’t have myself right now. So it’s time for me to create my own life and stop trying to pretend that I can control the decisions of other people that I don’t like. I’m just in a really weird place, because before this, despite having problems with accepting the path my friend had taken, I was anxious to get to the point where he wasn’t the physical presence that I had to have, and I knew when that day would be. Now that’s changed, and I find myself in a weird dizzying spin where I’m trying to latch on to something, but the logical part of me knows that even if there might be something to latch on to, it’s not what I need to do right now. I need to create my own world that doesn’t revolve around what I think is helping other people. Because I’m not always helping these people. Even if my intentions are good, sometimes I’m selling them short simply because I see flaws in their decisions. There’s nothing wrong with me helping out those that I care for. It’s something that gives me joy and that I like doing, but when it gets to the point where I’m discrediting them, and taking others in my life for granted as a result, it’s bad. I have to learn to let people do things on their own, because if I don’t, I’ll begin to manipulate, and that’s not something that I want for myself. I don’t like feeling like I’m being manipulated, and I refuse to purposefully manipulate others. It’s hard when you know that your intentions are good, and you only want to help the people you care about, but that doesn’t excuse it, and it’s time that I realize this.

And I honestly do believe them. I’m confident that I can do great things in my life, but the strange thing is that I don’t want to do the great things that they think I’m capable of. To some, this may seem like I don’t realize or appreciate the person that I am, or that I underestimate what it takes to be what some call ‘great’, but I don’t see greatness the way other people do. See, when most people tell me that I’ll do great things, it’s because they see how aware I am of myself and everything around me. They look at the way I perceive things and the way I work, and they see the makings of someone different. You see, I’ve always baffled people. When my Mom was giving birth, they said I wouldn’t make it. When the signs of my hydrocephalus began to show, they said I’d be mentally challenged. When I started school, they were convinced I’d need to be in special classes. When I began playing guitar, they told me I didn’t have what it took. And every time someone has put a limitation on me, I’ve passed it. So people look at me and they see someone who overcomes in the face of innumerable doubt, and they are partially right. There’s a good chance if you tell me that I can’t do something, I’ll likely do everything I can to prove that wrong, just because that’s who I am. I’m a person who refuses to accept that the limitations I have define anything that I can or can’t do. But let’s go back to how it seems that people perceive me. People who see the stuff that I’ve overcome, and how aware I am of things, and they see someone who they feel will keep persevering with endless vigilance, and they aren’t wrong, but they always seem to see my love of creating things and my love of technology, and they see me pushing in that area of my life. They see me as someone with the potential to basically have a kick ass job, and be someone who is aware of what’s going on, but only two people I know have actually seen what I want to actually accomplish. The ‘greatness’ that I want to achieve is considerably average. The things I want are simply to do something that makes me happy, live a life where I make a difference to those in it, and to have someone to share that with. The interesting thing is that many people in my life see that as me wasting the potential of what I could be, but it’s just not who I am. What I want isn’t great to everyone else, but I think that’s what makes it so great to me. The life that I want is great to me and me only. In many cases the people in my life are great in my eyes and only my eyes. I guess somewhere along the line I decided that my past experiences and everything that everyone has ever said I can’t do only carries as much weight on my back as I let it, and I guess that’s kind of where the whole ‘proving anyone who tells me I can’t do something wrong’ thing kicks in. You see, once I begin to see that anyone who tells me I can’t do something has no better way of knowing that I can’t do it than if I can, all the cards come into my hand. It no longer becomes me proving everyone else wrong, but instead, me proving to myself everything that I don’t want to believe. It becomes entirely reliant on what I believe I can do, and proving my own doubts wrong as opposed to concerning myself with the doubts of people who bear no weight on whether or not I can actually accomplish something or not. I guess that’s my strength. I’m a person who puts belief into the unknown. I see the future, and it scares the piss out of me, especially right now, but I also believe that I will do anything that I deem doable simply because there are just as many scenarios where I succeed as there are where I fall flat on my face. Some would call that blind optimism, and they wouldn’t be wrong, but I spent so long believing I could do nothing and that I was worth nothing that it broke me. I became consumed in my beliefs of a world that had nothing but failure and disappointment in store for me, and I perpetuated it. Those who cared didn’t actually care and would abandon me, and I was sure that it was true. So sure, that I would subliminally see to it that that happened. I would push people out because I just knew that they’d leave. Because that’s what I knew. That was what was familiar to me. The leaving would crush me, and it would make me hate myself even more, and make me believe that I was even more worthless, but it became my safe place in a fucked up sort of way. If I was right about everyone leaving, then that worthlessness I felt inside was justified and fulfilled, and I could continue to feed it. That’s the fucked up thing. I hated myself so much that I’d do anything I could to justify that hatred, and keep feeding it. I can’t tell you when exactly that spell broke, but I can tell you what broke it. I became angry. To the point that I said fuck it. If this was going to eat me alive, then I’d at least have to give it a run for its money, and that’s what I did. I didn’t have the strength to keep going, but I was too strong to go out, so I let the tide carry me. I sat and I observed, and I began to see that it wasn’t the world’s problem with me, but my problem with myself that was perpetuating all this weight that I carried every day, and so I slowly started to put that weight down a little at a time, because that weight is fucking hard to drop. Hell, it’s a lot fucking harder to drop the weight than it is to carry it, because that weight, that crushing weight that was killing me, was my safe place. It defined everything that I was, so who would I be if I let it go??? But I did so anyway. I began to let that weight go, little by little, letting pure nothingness keep me going. Here’s where it got interesting. As I let that weight go, I began to discover that who I am is defined solely by me. It was new, and it made me want to run back to my safe place, but slowly, I began to embrace that notion and build myself up with the help of one person who likely still doesn’t even realize that that’s what she was doing. That’s when things began to come full circle. The person began to migrate to the center of my life, because she earned that place and it’s where she belonged. I think I’m basically rambling at this point, because I’ve been typing for well over two hours, but meh. It was interesting to just sit and type endlessly and see what came out, but now I’m becoming too tired to see the screen. If someone actually reads this, I’m sorry for dragging on forever. I think this really has more value to me than it will have to someone else, but oh well. Time to sleep.

Watching Joe Dirt is just too hard now.

Have another breakdown and then realize that you’re allergic to the Kleenex. Man, life is fucking awesome.

People tend to ask me why I don’t give a fuck about money, and lately, I’ve been pondering that to a certain degree, and with all that’s been going on, I think I’ve come to a conclusion. My Father makes a six figure salary, and he tried to abandon me, beat me savagely on many occasions and has spent most of his life angry and empty inside. My Mom has been incredibly poor for most of her life, and even now that she owns her own house, is still not anywhere near financially well off. My Mother, however, always tried to put her kids first, even uprooting herself to move with my Father so that we could have a chance at having some sort of a functional family. For all the bad things I can say about my Mother, her intentions are almost always good. Selfish at times (especially lately) but she’s always wanted to better herself to help her kids. She may not be around ever anymore because she’s wrapped up in herself, but she’s also going back to school to get a better job so that if something ever goes wrong, she can not only support herself, but also help myself or my sister if we need it. She’s also going to school to be a nurse to try to better understand my hydrocephalus and the things that it’s caused. So for all the bad I can say about my Mom, she’s always done everything she can to try to make the best decisions she can for her family, even if those decisions are sometimes selfish in certain aspects. My Father on the other hand made money enough to give his kids a good life, and instead tried to fill his sadness and incompleteness with his money, and when that didn’t work, he blamed the only thing that he could: his kids. So you see, where my Father failed, my Mother succeeded. For all her failures and emotional shit, she has figured out that caring for those you love, and ensuring their well-being is what brings fulfillment and happiness. So this is where my views on money stand. My money is useless if I’m using it to do things for myself. That money will not fulfill me in the way I seek. That’s why I don’t want some great job that pays out the ass. I want to make enough money at what I do to support the people I love. Money means nothing to me unless it is being used in a way that is toward the people I love. At this point, I have no idea what I’m even talking about, but meh. I guess what I’m saying is I don’t give a fuck about money because they only way money has a meaning to me is if it’s being used toward something with those I love. Any other use to me seems pointless.