I've rewritten this post in my head over and over again for the past couple of days, each time depressing me even further. Because of the depressing nature of this post I'm going to put it all after the jump.
I suppose there are benefits to having a sort-of private blog - the people that actually read what I say are the ones actually taking the time to pay any attention to what I do, coupled with the fact that they have to click again to read past the first couple of paragraphs means they're spending at least five minutes doing this.
On the other side of the coin, this blog is my place to be selfish and get whatever's on my mind out on to the internet, where I'm another anonymous person adding to a stream of rambling thoughts strong enough to be an ocean. The kind of depersonalisation that reading words on a screen brings is comforting, in the sense that even if someone does read this the facts are made less serious by me talking about my dick for upwards of ten paragraphs (ladies ;D) which offsets bad news and terrible thoughts written down.
Now about that ten page god-infuriating cockument to my own ego.
The past two weeks has been terrible for me. I lost someone I was close to in a horrific way, then went away and got myself surrounded by distractions that just didn't work. I then tried talking about the issue but that didn't really work either. All of this culminating to today where I blacked out at work purely from stress.
Last Sunday I got a phone call from my mum, asking where I was and if I was okay. Apparently there was some sort of accident just a couple streets away from her house. She didn't know much about it and thought that I might've been involved in it because I hadn't called her all day. I thought nothing of it and continued to hang out with friends.
After dropping off one of my friends back at his house I went over to another friends house to hang out some more. It was here that I got the second phone call from my mum telling me that it might be one of my cousins that was involved in the accident and that they'd been taken to hospital. I started to worry. This is someone I used to spend time with after school when my mum went over to visit her aunt. Over the years I talked to her less and less but I still remembered her and would say hi whenever I saw her in different places.
Eventually I went home and went to bed, sleeping with the aid of medication. During the night I had a dream that my mum walked into the room and said it wasn't her, just someone with a similar name. The dream seemed so real that when I woke up later on in the day my stepdad asked me about it and I told him that it wasn't her - confident that the dream was reality. I jumped on the train to work and decided to call my mum and talk about how crazy it was that there was someone with such a similar name, and how silly they were to not be wearing a helmet. My mum answered and I asked about the incident the night before - she told me that it was in fact my cousin and that she had died early in the morning in hospital.
I went silent, and so did everything else. Here was a girl the same age as me whose life was taken by someone else who wasn't even considerate enough to stop and try to save her, whose only fault that night was assuming that she didn't need a helmet on a 2 minute trip from her boyfriends house to hers. This and completely coincidental timing caused them to be hit by a car driven by a drunken man who then left them to die.
That's it, that one split second that it takes for the front bumper to come in contact with any part of the bike and it's instantly game over. No warning, no catching up with old friends beforehand, no goodbyes. Just one second you're fine and the next you're on life support just waiting to not exist any more.
I tried pushing this out of my head while I worked, I succeeded at it pretty well too, the only times it crossing my mind being when something was posted on facebook about it. This worked up until I went away to the Blue Mountains with friends.
I had a decent time there, even if it was only for the fact that it wasn't sitting around at home being bored - and I figured the distractions would help. I got to hang out with people and meet new friends and even learn a bit of firestaffing. On Saturday night though, everyone was getting under each others skin and while thinking about how everyone else was feeling down I felt kind of responsible. I'd brought half of them there and they weren't having a good time. This turned into me not enjoying myself any more which brought on a slight depression which brought me back to my cousin.
Just like that, I snapped - I couldn't be around people any more. In my mind I'd caused the discomfort they were feeling and me getting emotional about my cousin would only add to their own misery. I went to my room and spent the next few hours unsuccessfully forcing back tears. It was dark so on the occassion that someone came into the room I could quickly wipe my eyes and pretend I was just listening to music away from everyone. The occassion came a couple times when a friend came in and wanted to talk about how the others were pissing them off. I managed to stay composed during this and give out half-hearted consolation that probably didn't do a damn thing. I didn't care. I was being selfish and was only thinking of how someone could help me.
Subconciously I hoped that one of the people that came in would turn on the lights and see the tears, that they'd make an effort to console me - as futile as that would be. Looking back on it I realise that I didn't want anyone to console me. Otherwise I would have tried talking through tears about it to the people that came in, even in the dark. I'd made the decision to be alone in the dark with my own thoughts and not have to make someone else deal with my problems and that was what I wanted.
I thought to myself that this kind of thing can't be helped by anyone and that even surrounded by friends I could go out and talk to, I was completely and utterly alone.
This thought continues on still, even after the funeral and talking to friends about it, even after my mum asking me what was wrong and me having to lie and not talk about how I've died twice already and how unfair it is that I've survived and my cousin didn't. I don't have any complete future plans. Unlike her, I'm not going to find "that someone special" and carry on whatever false idea of a legacy people have of me because I'm not looking for that someone special, I just don't see a point to it. I'm going to be stuck in the same job for the next ten years and never do anything wild or exciting like she was because I get used to schedules and routines - even my holidays are taken at the same time and place in the year.
I've literally got nothing to live for other than my own existence and the notion that people will be sad when I die, but even that passes in time. I'm not going to contribute to the human race with children of my own, I'm not going to make anyone elses life happier and I'm not going to do anything great to change the world.
This doesn't mean suicide. I'm not an idiot. I'll stay alive to see if I get lucky again and something good happens to me. Otherwise, I guess I'll just stand here staring at nothing until it's all over.
Adieu.
I suppose there are benefits to having a sort-of private blog - the people that actually read what I say are the ones actually taking the time to pay any attention to what I do, coupled with the fact that they have to click again to read past the first couple of paragraphs means they're spending at least five minutes doing this.
On the other side of the coin, this blog is my place to be selfish and get whatever's on my mind out on to the internet, where I'm another anonymous person adding to a stream of rambling thoughts strong enough to be an ocean. The kind of depersonalisation that reading words on a screen brings is comforting, in the sense that even if someone does read this the facts are made less serious by me talking about my dick for upwards of ten paragraphs (ladies ;D) which offsets bad news and terrible thoughts written down.
Now about that ten page god-infuriating cockument to my own ego.
The past two weeks has been terrible for me. I lost someone I was close to in a horrific way, then went away and got myself surrounded by distractions that just didn't work. I then tried talking about the issue but that didn't really work either. All of this culminating to today where I blacked out at work purely from stress.
Last Sunday I got a phone call from my mum, asking where I was and if I was okay. Apparently there was some sort of accident just a couple streets away from her house. She didn't know much about it and thought that I might've been involved in it because I hadn't called her all day. I thought nothing of it and continued to hang out with friends.
After dropping off one of my friends back at his house I went over to another friends house to hang out some more. It was here that I got the second phone call from my mum telling me that it might be one of my cousins that was involved in the accident and that they'd been taken to hospital. I started to worry. This is someone I used to spend time with after school when my mum went over to visit her aunt. Over the years I talked to her less and less but I still remembered her and would say hi whenever I saw her in different places.
Eventually I went home and went to bed, sleeping with the aid of medication. During the night I had a dream that my mum walked into the room and said it wasn't her, just someone with a similar name. The dream seemed so real that when I woke up later on in the day my stepdad asked me about it and I told him that it wasn't her - confident that the dream was reality. I jumped on the train to work and decided to call my mum and talk about how crazy it was that there was someone with such a similar name, and how silly they were to not be wearing a helmet. My mum answered and I asked about the incident the night before - she told me that it was in fact my cousin and that she had died early in the morning in hospital.
I went silent, and so did everything else. Here was a girl the same age as me whose life was taken by someone else who wasn't even considerate enough to stop and try to save her, whose only fault that night was assuming that she didn't need a helmet on a 2 minute trip from her boyfriends house to hers. This and completely coincidental timing caused them to be hit by a car driven by a drunken man who then left them to die.
That's it, that one split second that it takes for the front bumper to come in contact with any part of the bike and it's instantly game over. No warning, no catching up with old friends beforehand, no goodbyes. Just one second you're fine and the next you're on life support just waiting to not exist any more.
I tried pushing this out of my head while I worked, I succeeded at it pretty well too, the only times it crossing my mind being when something was posted on facebook about it. This worked up until I went away to the Blue Mountains with friends.
I had a decent time there, even if it was only for the fact that it wasn't sitting around at home being bored - and I figured the distractions would help. I got to hang out with people and meet new friends and even learn a bit of firestaffing. On Saturday night though, everyone was getting under each others skin and while thinking about how everyone else was feeling down I felt kind of responsible. I'd brought half of them there and they weren't having a good time. This turned into me not enjoying myself any more which brought on a slight depression which brought me back to my cousin.
Just like that, I snapped - I couldn't be around people any more. In my mind I'd caused the discomfort they were feeling and me getting emotional about my cousin would only add to their own misery. I went to my room and spent the next few hours unsuccessfully forcing back tears. It was dark so on the occassion that someone came into the room I could quickly wipe my eyes and pretend I was just listening to music away from everyone. The occassion came a couple times when a friend came in and wanted to talk about how the others were pissing them off. I managed to stay composed during this and give out half-hearted consolation that probably didn't do a damn thing. I didn't care. I was being selfish and was only thinking of how someone could help me.
Subconciously I hoped that one of the people that came in would turn on the lights and see the tears, that they'd make an effort to console me - as futile as that would be. Looking back on it I realise that I didn't want anyone to console me. Otherwise I would have tried talking through tears about it to the people that came in, even in the dark. I'd made the decision to be alone in the dark with my own thoughts and not have to make someone else deal with my problems and that was what I wanted.
I thought to myself that this kind of thing can't be helped by anyone and that even surrounded by friends I could go out and talk to, I was completely and utterly alone.
This thought continues on still, even after the funeral and talking to friends about it, even after my mum asking me what was wrong and me having to lie and not talk about how I've died twice already and how unfair it is that I've survived and my cousin didn't. I don't have any complete future plans. Unlike her, I'm not going to find "that someone special" and carry on whatever false idea of a legacy people have of me because I'm not looking for that someone special, I just don't see a point to it. I'm going to be stuck in the same job for the next ten years and never do anything wild or exciting like she was because I get used to schedules and routines - even my holidays are taken at the same time and place in the year.
I've literally got nothing to live for other than my own existence and the notion that people will be sad when I die, but even that passes in time. I'm not going to contribute to the human race with children of my own, I'm not going to make anyone elses life happier and I'm not going to do anything great to change the world.
This doesn't mean suicide. I'm not an idiot. I'll stay alive to see if I get lucky again and something good happens to me. Otherwise, I guess I'll just stand here staring at nothing until it's all over.
Adieu.
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