When I wasn't spending the day running around rifling through clearance racks for swimsuits at sundry department stores (oh oh what an evil task... being a prude like me and trying to find a swimsuit which is not a bikini is nearly impossible, and even worse when it's this late in the season and swimsuits are scant...I did at least find something though...and it's far from being a bikini...although it does flatter my unlovely scrawny frame rather well while still being very cute...triumph ! ), I was very busy being cold and detached.
I got very good at it.
At the rate I was going, I was going to renounce everyone in the world tomorrow at...a time. But I wasn't going to renounce everyone publicly. I wasn't going to tell anyone that I was renouncing all of you for good. I was just going to disappear into thin air.
And I know, I've been complaining about being lonely, and here I go talking about renouncing everyone for good.
Well, there is logic. Albeit idiotic and weak logic. This is one of my spots of hypocrisy I suppose. Aren't we all covered in them?
See, it gets to the point, where, its just way too painful to deal with anyone. I'm just so lonely, that I end up having to go days without anyone to talk to, and then, when someone shows up for me to talk to, I usually have forgotten how to converse with people, and then, by the time the person has left me to myself again, my loneliness is even worse. It's a huge burden to keep up friendships which can only logically and understandably give me a quarter of what I really need. It becomes more trouble than it's worth.
It's just easier to be cold, detached, and utterly friendless.
Except for God of course. Thanks for the reminder, but there is an insatiable desire in the human spirit for interaction with other tangible human souls.
Yeah, God is what is keeping me alive and here right now. If not for Him, my loneliness would have driven me to suicide.
It's really really hard to explain this, because I know I am going to be refuted in the end, but you know what, I just don't care anymore. You don't understand. At all. You are going to insist that you understand exactly and that I don't get it. Well you're wrong. And you aren't going to recognize that, but I'll be reconciled to it. I never understood it before. Not until now. Not until I've been through this. I thought I could make it just fine without tangible human interaction.
Well I was very wrong. It's very essential. God made us so that it is...
Bah... I don't care about affirming myself. I know where I stand. I know how I've done. I know what's going on. That's enough.
But anyway, I broke my habit of coldness. I decided I'd let myself feel a little a couple hours ago.
Very. bad. idea.
I ended up dashing myself into walls again.
And I am not saying that for dramatic purpose. I really have been dashing myself against the wall with grief. I don't dash hard enough to make a noise. I'm not trying to hurt myself. It just hurts so much inside, there's just so much utter, crushing. despairing despondency inside, that before I know what I'm doing, I'm sobbing and running myself against my walls. It's that, or breaking things. Last night, I almost snapped the handle of a plastic hairbrush. I set it down before I could break it though, because I don't know how I'd explain it. I can't attract attention.
And I'm not saying any of this for pity. Damn you if you pity me. I don't want any of it. That's how I feel, and it's very theraputic to talk about how I'm feeling and what I've been doing about it. No matter how ridiculous or dramatic.
But the only thing that's really getting me, is the loneliness. It's that bloody number three on the list. I agree but the problem is, I won't be talking to other people instead of. I think, besides one other conversation, you were the only person I had to talk to the entire week... so deprive me of you, and it's not like I have other people to go talk to. It's not like I've been ignoring that many other people in favor of you. I wish.
But that's my fault. So I won't complain. I'll go flit off with my books. Study them. Talk to...the wall... my kitten...take abstract pictures for no reason... talk nonsense with my sister...like that...
I shouldn't have said any of that...I think it's all wrong anyway.
(decides to go back and erase it all)
Ok. Strikethrough. All better. I didn't mean a word of that.
And now, well...my eyes hurt.
Really bad. My eyes are so heavy and bleary with sleeplessness. Didn't get to sleep til four am yesterday. Then I got up at ten am. Six hours. Not too bad.
Tonight, I got into bed at 9pm, with my clothes on, left the light on, and slept for forty-five minutes. Kinda sorta. While I slept, someone came in, turned out my lights, cleared out the kids, and popped Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring EE disc two into the dvd player on my computer (my computer monitor is situated so that I can see it perfectly from my bed). So I woke up to a gentle, dark silence, only broken by the soothing sounds of the LOTR movie. It made me very, very happy and content. I changed into my pjs and snuggled in bed and happily watched the rest of the movie.
And in my solitude, I noticed a few odd habits of mine when watching that movie.
I noticed that I anticipate every arrow shot into Boromir, and jump two feet in the air and cringe at the precise moment an arrow digs into him. I think sometimes I even utter little cries of hurt.
It's just like when I watch the battle scenes in Return of the King. I flinch a lot with the soldiers when they get hurt. And I cry a lot too.
I also emulate movements. I found myself touching my forehead to greet Lady Galadriel like Aragorn did. I also raised an invisible sword to my breast in salute like Boromir did when he was dying. I also raised a loose fist to my forehead, then laid it on my lips for a gentle kiss, then closed my eyes painfully and laid my hand on an invisible person before me. Like Aragorn did after Boromir died.
I know. I'm a bit strange. I really get into those movies. I'm not a zombie...I'm just...utterly transfixed...enwrapped in the scenes playing out before my eyes, and supplementing it mentally with a bazillion little left out scenes and character developments that I still remember from the books. I become each of the characters in turn. I feel with each of them.
Strange Megan. Strange.
But then I was sleepy, but couldn't sleep. At all.
Eventually I wound up here. Writing. Like this. I think I am going to be done and stick in the movie version of Nicholas Nickleby and fall asleep to it.
Because I don't know if I can go to sleep tonight in silence in the dark. I tried that, and it didn't work...
So it's off again! To be bleary eyed and unable to sleep! And off to practice being cold and detached! Auf Wiedersehen!