Wednesday, January 18, 2012

WARNING: Tons of emo. Just gettin' stuff off of my manly chest.

I don't know where to begin.

This is funny only because I'm a punk writer, have been writing...well, maybe not GOOD but consistently...for nearly a decade now. That is, the style of writing that I employ has been stabilized (but hopefully steadily improving!) since my early twenties. Certainly to the point where I can communicate as clearly in writing as I can vocally, a skill that I am also pretty good at.

Yet despite all that, I don't know where to begin.

I guess...tonight. Tonight would be a good place to start.

Y'see, I was finally able to sob the way I deserve to. Even worse, it wasn't over the incredibly cliched events that have shortly rent my current life asunder.

I didn't cry when she dumped me after three years, even if it was over something that should've been dealt with the first hour of us meeting. I didn't cry at my crushing loneliness both before and after her. I didn't cry at how low my personal standards have fallen, both hygienically and physically. I didn't cry at how much of my physicality I've lost. I didn't cry at my horrible prospects of a future, being pigeonholed as a minimum-wage factory worker, with tens of thousands of dollars of debt (medical, student, an old repossessed car, everything I've ever failed at) crushing my broad shoulders. I didn't cry at my current lodgings: a sad little cabin, smaller than a dorm room with no proper plumbing and only cold water, a door that never keeps a draft out and windows that lack proper locks. I haven't even cried at past shame and pathetic squandering of my talents, revealed to me as I recently burned ten years of old paperwork I've lugged around in four huge cardboard boxes, bills and worse kept secreted away like a packrat's folly.

I haven't shed a real tear about how I currently live in this cold hovel, my clothes in need of updating, my wardrobe sparse. I didn't cry at donating so many books, so much of the life we've built these past three years...together.

I didn't cry when she told me that our religious beliefs weren't the same, so we couldn't build a family together.

That nearly did it, honestly...but it didn't.

I didn't cry hearing from quite a few others that it was better off this way, that it wasn't my fault. I know it wasn't, but it still hurt all the same.

It's not that I believe crying is unmanly, in fact quite the opposite: manly tears should only be shed for a good reason. Tears are the lubricant of the soul, so it is said.

And it wasn't until tonight that I could finally let loose with body-shaking, soul-wracking sobs and wails, finally able to stop blaming myself and simply accept my situation. I am far from the pedestal I've placed my previous self, back when I ruled unopposed and happy.

Back when I thought being alone was my only worry.

Perhaps this is growing up? I dunno. If growing up means simply shouldering the burdens of ever greater pain, then perhaps Peter Pan isn't as much of a coward as I used to think.

The saddest part is that pain seems to have always been a part of my life. To take it, to deal it out, to control it and get the job done.

To go cold and do what needs be done. Practical but what I've lost in the interrum...

Maybe this is yet a new step for me, in my personal growth? I don't know, again. I hate admitting that, but there you have it. To feel the pain yet feel numb to it at the same time...I don't think that's a good thing. It may not be a good thing after all, but it's something I'll have to accept.

I'll start this with tonight, but I think I can finish with it tomorrow. Perhaps the days after?

I don't know, but at least I'll try.

The sad part is, I can't even claim that this fatalistic, blockheaded viewpoint is an adult one. Amongst the papers I DID keep rather than consign to the fire was a school journal I had found, one that I had kept back when I was 14. Apparently I haven't changed as much as I thought, save that I can explain myself a bit better. That and I understand a bit more the innate reasons of why I do the things I do, and who I actually am.

When I was a child I knew these things inherently, but the older I get the clearer I can communicate and explain those reasons.

So yeah, I know this isn't my fault. But I can deal with it.

I can get back up, hell I already have since returning to WA save that my emotions finally caught up with me.

So here I am in this cold, snowed-in and weather-blown cabin, my body aging, doing my best to catch up to tomorrow. I honestly don't know if I ever will be able to, but I think...well, y'know that sayin'. It's not in the destination, it's in the journey.

I don't think that it's as important that I catch up tomorrow, just that I'm still unafraid to reach out and try.

On the geekier side, would you like to know why I feel the need to write all this, to share with (some) complete and total strangers? Well, y'see while I'm fighting back against frost and freeze, my car a solid block of fucking ice, I've been taking time by getting caught up on various written projects (namely transcribing a whole bunch of stuff I wrote in a notebook over the christmas holiday) and alongside that playing a Virtual Novel by the name of "Katawa Shoujo," a dating simulator where you play a character with Arrhythmia who for whatever reason goes to a school that is mainly for the disabled. Hell, smut as well as a romantic comedy VN? Why the fuck not, y'know?

Except three out of five of the girls, I saw so many aspects of my ex-fiancee and partner-in-crime that I began to worry. Then the last one hit, a girl by the name of Emi who was spunky, extremely physical, short and cute. Sure she was missing her legs from the top of the calves down, but she got by with legblades (look 'em up yerdamnself, googles is over there -> ), and was a track star even before then apparently.

Now, here's the thing...I was going right along with the usual business, choosing options and conversational choices that would lead me towards the good ending 'cuz, hell, I simply don't enjoy a bad ending for any of my lovers in real life and my video game characters mirror that.

Then comes the drama part of it, which hits me in a flash: as she says some rather hurtful words ("I can never allow you to get close to me, I can only rely on myself") to the main character I tear up and realize what's wrong with this.

I kept thinking that this chick reminded me of my ex, like the other three (for whatever reason Shizune is nothing like that at all, which I guess is why I keep replaying her segments - that and totally rocking bewbage) but in that singular moment, that flash of a couple of phrases that it hits me...

That's me. That's not my ex, that's me. I've been enjoying this route the same way I enjoy anything that is...well, me-related.

And in that moment it also crushes me, just...everything. Everything just hits me like an unblocked roundhouse to the fucking dome. Everything.

The hurt, the pain, the shame, the loneliness, the pathetic surroundings I find myself in, my constant paranoia because of the drunks and mentally insane that inhabit these campgrounds. Is this how my friends see me? Is this how I make them feel when I point out that I'll get through things fine on my own?

Jesus fucking christ, is this why my dad's been calling me every other day rather then waiting a week or two for me to call him?!

Now that I've calmed down (half an hour of soul-cleansing sobbing, finished the game with the happy ending but then immediately started writing this) I can see the past week and a half or so since I've come back from a different viewpoint. I've hurtled myself headlong into just being busy, dealing with seeing my ex and her father as we halved and dealt with our storage unit, all I've been doing is keeping my emotions at arms length until I could deal with them on their own terms.

But...I could've visited a friend of mine, who probably would've let me cry on his shoulder. I could've let the friends I DID visit (mainly 'cuz, in hindsight, if I had visited that particular friend I probably would've ended up breaking down and crying) know how I was feeling about the whole situation. Hell, I could've even gone to older friends of mine, on the internet and in real life, who probably would've given me a clear ten minutes and a listening ear while I cried into my keyboard. I now, well...I think I now...can empathize clearer as towards how others might feel when those who are close to me know that I'll be there for them when they show up at my doorstep in the fucking rain at 3 a.m. in the morning and I've immediately got their back, yet I won't do that to anyone else.

Then again, I've always been completely honest about being selfish and egocentric. But, and I'm not making rationalizations here, it's in that brutal honesty that I've always staked my life on, the ability to back up my claims with honor and deed.

So...I don't know.

I fucking hate not knowing, but I can accept it.

Is this catharsis? Will I be able to wake up, cold and alone once again?

Yeah and yes. Tomorrow will come, or it won't. Did I learn anything at all from any of this?

Naw. Not at all.

But I'll deal with tomorrow headlong, once again focused on getting shit done and doing what I must. 'S all, really.

Whoever you are who reads this, even if you're said ex-fiancee...don't worry. Seriously, don't worry.

I'm fine now. I'm alright. I'm not okay, but I'm getting better.

And I AM going to get better. Tomorrow's gonna be a better day, y'know?

One way or another.

Sincerely, That Bastard

P.S. - Yes, it is cold and storming as a motherfucker out here. The wind is blowin', it's too fucking cold to watch movies on the PS2 (the av connectors are all freezing up), and all I've had to do is type and try and stay warm. Despite all that, this comes up.

Coincidence? Naw, mang. 'S that sentimental side of yer boi, 's all. Just watch, the MOMENT things get warm I'll get all alpha male dominant again.

'Til me a favor and hold me, just this once?

Also, no I will not delete this post. I was honestly thinking of doing just that, whining and bitching to you guys...but that seems dishonorable, somehow. In the very least disrespectful to both myself and anyone who's reading this.

So instead, let's just not talk about this post again, alright? I'll have something funny/enraging/offensive up next post.

Just for now, let's get through this cold, stormy night together.


  1. My girlfriend just dumped me too, last night.. over the phone.....
    guess what? no manly tears from my eyes noo no...
    I have been crying like a little girl several hours today :)
    Life sucks :)


  2. Thank you for this raw glimpse into your life. I have difficulties as well, and this helps me.

  3. De nada, brothas. Just had to get this off my chest, and the process didn't feel complete until I "put it out there into the ether" as a spiritualist-buddhist friend of mine'd say.