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Brought to you by blood-spewing theatre
Jun. 16th, 2010 05:40 pmTrigger warning, suicide allusions
What on Earth could make you, when looking straight at the crazy, decide to stay?
It's a rhetorical question for now. Sparr did stay (or not kick me out, which I suppose is the equivalent) and somehow seems fine with the fact that I am not altogether there. But then again, I said it to him and I'll say it here:
I'm a really functional crazy.
I don't feel that way all the time. When I'm in the middle of a panic attack about something stupid, it's really hard to remember that I am functional, and I can deal with this shit. But, well, there it is. I can deal with this shit.
Would therapy help me? Absa-fucking-loutely, and I'll be looking it up when I go back to Lesley in the fall. But can I survive without? Sure. Sometimes I'll freak out and cry and not bother telling anyone, and sometimes I'll freak out and cry and only tell whoever happens to be closest at the time, but either way, or hell, even if I shout my pain to the world, I WILL get the pain sorted out and feel much better for the catharsis.
I can do that. The best thing about being clumsy is having quick reflexes, and the best thing about being broken is that I know how to scar. Yes, my brain is broken, but unless it breaks in a new and different way, I've seen this path before, and managed to come out whole. One of the nicest tools I've got in my arsenal is the fact that "This Is Not Worth Killing Myself Over", and if it's not worth suicide, then I guess I'm eventually going to be okay.
(I don't know if I'm ever going to hit the point where something *is* worth killing myself over. But at least as long as Veronica and Mek are alive, I promise you lot that I simply won't be capable of moving my little finger1. Survival instinct is all well and good, but it pales in comparison to the strength in which I simply will not hurt people.)
So that's that. Similar to the fact that I actually am a far more talented person than I give myself credit for, I really am a bit more stable than I feel sometime. Now, let's just work on that *epic* level insecurity problem (and yes, the whole lack of motivation thing), and I'll see if I can't turn out to be a pretty damn awesome person after all.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: 'Cause all you have to do is move your little finger, squeeze your little finger and you can change the world. What? You expect my suicidal lyrics to come from an actually emo song? Fuck that noise, I've got *musicals!* to play with!
(In case you can't tell, this is a happy entry. Hugs and all are nice, but not necessary in the slightest.)
Trigger warning, suicide allusions
What on Earth could make you, when looking straight at the crazy, decide to stay?
It's a rhetorical question for now. Sparr did stay (or not kick me out, which I suppose is the equivalent) and somehow seems fine with the fact that I am not altogether there. But then again, I said it to him and I'll say it here:
I'm a really functional crazy.
I don't feel that way all the time. When I'm in the middle of a panic attack about something stupid, it's really hard to remember that I am functional, and I can deal with this shit. But, well, there it is. I can deal with this shit.
Would therapy help me? Absa-fucking-loutely, and I'll be looking it up when I go back to Lesley in the fall. But can I survive without? Sure. Sometimes I'll freak out and cry and not bother telling anyone, and sometimes I'll freak out and cry and only tell whoever happens to be closest at the time, but either way, or hell, even if I shout my pain to the world, I WILL get the pain sorted out and feel much better for the catharsis.
I can do that. The best thing about being clumsy is having quick reflexes, and the best thing about being broken is that I know how to scar. Yes, my brain is broken, but unless it breaks in a new and different way, I've seen this path before, and managed to come out whole. One of the nicest tools I've got in my arsenal is the fact that "This Is Not Worth Killing Myself Over", and if it's not worth suicide, then I guess I'm eventually going to be okay.
(I don't know if I'm ever going to hit the point where something *is* worth killing myself over. But at least as long as Veronica and Mek are alive, I promise you lot that I simply won't be capable of moving my little finger1. Survival instinct is all well and good, but it pales in comparison to the strength in which I simply will not hurt people.)
So that's that. Similar to the fact that I actually am a far more talented person than I give myself credit for, I really am a bit more stable than I feel sometime. Now, let's just work on that *epic* level insecurity problem (and yes, the whole lack of motivation thing), and I'll see if I can't turn out to be a pretty damn awesome person after all.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: 'Cause all you have to do is move your little finger, squeeze your little finger and you can change the world. What? You expect my suicidal lyrics to come from an actually emo song? Fuck that noise, I've got *musicals!* to play with!
(In case you can't tell, this is a happy entry. Hugs and all are nice, but not necessary in the slightest.)
Trigger warning, suicide allusions