Why?

I think, if one were to look up the most pointless existence in the human world, my life might be one of the top five. I honestly don't know why I'm here. There's always been variations of this sentiment littered throughout the rest of these pointless monologues, but only recently have I begun to really wonder why am I here again. For as long as I can remember, my first key to happiness was my family. I loved them dearly. I was total ride or die, do a blood bond, you go to jail, I go to jail committed. I would have died to protect every last one of them and I would never do anything to hurt them, only to discover over the past, er, 14 years or more, that none of them feel the same.  I am a target to hurt, to maim, to betray, and to forget so long as it suits them. Losing them left a deep wound, I never thought could heal, then came the dreaded search for a mate. At first it was some weird misguided belief that if some random dude whisked me away, physical pain of first intercourse would replace emotional turmoil in my heart. I was a weirdo, hoping some random movie star would drive by, find young me interesting and whisk me away from where  I was. Needless to say that didn't happen and thank god. What a psychotic and dangerous situation that would have been. So I resolved to be a hermit and go live in the mountains. I had a weird, firm, set of what I would do and where I would go, should I have no reason to return to my splintering home. Pretty sure had  I lived in Japan, I would have become a monk. In fact, I even began to look up how to become a monk. Short answer, I can't. I'm female. Boo. I want to give up worldly vices and live in peace on a mountaintop and still have some respect, but nope. We get stuck in a stupid convent, locked away in a garden. Oh joy. So, I settled for when I get older, I'm living alone. Total Kevin sentiments there, only I kept getting people thrown in my way. This person would go far out of their way to befriend me, that person would invite me to dances, but I was the pity kid. I wasn't so much a popular we like you kid, it was more like meet our charity case. She's awkward, shy, and rarely speaks, but she's harmless. I was like some sort of pet, but I just wanted friendship. Then as those little kindnesses spread and people seemed to like me, I gave up the mate dream and went running towards friends. Most girls want a romance with a childhood friend like they see in the movies. Where the boy and girl grow up next to each other and find out one day they're perfect for each other and love ensues. Yeah, I was more enamored with the sisterhood of the traveling pants of life. I wanted a best friend from elementary school, who knows me throughout the rest of our lives. We visit each other, plan to live in the same city, I attend her wedding and child classes, or we travel together and are like super sophisticated. I didn't care what, but I just wanted someone to want to be there for me, for me. Because they actually liked me as a friend, a mate, a sibling. Instead, I have no one.
I go to school and come back home to solve problems. That's literally all my life is. I go on trips with friends who want to achieve what they want to do and I go to experience it as separate but together. I allow myself to be dragged all over timbuktu, because sometimes travelling with others is worth the hassle than going alone, but I end up alone anyway, so what does it matter? Everyone is willing to leave me behind if it furthers their own ends. Most of my guy friends just can't stand being alone, so proposition some sort of attachment together and I'm like thank you for making me feel even more worthless. I get to be picked last and as a last resort, because I have a pulse and a vagina. Woo-fucking-hoo. The bitterness inside is boiling over to the point, I just don't really want to be around anybody anymore. I'm ready to hole up in an apartment somewhere in a city, so no one cares who I am and cut off all ties. No electronics, or rather no social media. No phones, except a prepaid one for emergencies. Just disappearing, because there is nothing left for me anymore. My disappearance won't be missed and I guess instead of thinking about it, I should just do it. I guess some people are all talk. I need to learn to be action. I seem to have only goodbyes left. I guess that's my legacy.

Left Behind

As I trudged along behind my friend who was the first to ever visit me from out of town, I saw black squirrels on the ground for the first time ever. I was so excited and I wanted to take a picture. My friends receding back, got further and further away from me, So I said enthusiastically, look, look black squirrels. She just made a dismissive gesture with her hand and said, who cares, they're everywhere. I don't want to see a black squirrel and kept moving. As I stood in shock absorbing this dismissal, I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures of the rambunctious black squirrels. I didn't look to see where she went, I didn't try to hurry to catch up. I had experienced this before. In fact, it became startlingly clear to me that I'm somehow always surrounded by people with one foot out the door. I'm forever stuck with people who don't look back to see if I caught up, nor do they come to see me to begin with. I tagged along. I just wanted to be close to my friends. I'm not doing that anymore. I don't chase after people. We eventually somehow happened to both need an emptying of the bladder and she waited for me to complete my own ablutions, but if she hadn't, had she left, I would have left and never turned back. Which sounds stupid. Like you forced her into hanging out with you, why should you be upset if she left you behind? And the answer is surprisingly simple. Because I wanted to hang out with her. I could have let her explore Vancouver and Seattle on her own as was her original plan. I could have let her get a hotel and be on her schedule and had we met up, we would have met up, though I doubt it, because I would've gone home and bypassed her altogether. So I stayed, I put my grades in jeopardy to play a good host and I was constantly threatened with being left behind. 

Beyond complaining, I also realized, this is a recurring theme with, if not 100%, then 90% of all of my friends. I go to see them, I want to hang out with them. Yes, their city, state, or country is gorgeous and it's nice to explore, but really I just want to sit down and talk to them, walk with them, get to know them. I have only been able to do that once. One time where I felt like I was cared about, encouraged to visit, and actually friends with someone. Every other time has been a distant rush towards getting me out of their life faster. A vague affirmation of some sort of positive emotion towards me coming to visit or just plain and simple far too busy. And I wonder, what is the point anymore? I mean I don't just travel for my friends, but if I can to meet them, hang out with them, affirm a bond, then I don't mind, as long as I'm wanted. Turns out I've never been wanted. Apparently, I've just thrown myself into people's lives, insinuated myself, and fooled myself into thinking people really care, when they don't. I've only ever been selfish in ways of survival and usually it's so that I can reach back and save someone else. Help them or teach them to survive by leading by example.

Not to mention every time I try to give up humanity, some other poor sucker is thrown in my path to be cheerful, make me feel less alone, less isolated, less angry, only when I try to grasp the proferred invisible hand of friendship, it completely vanishes. It's no longer there, no longer, beckoning to me to hope, to want to be close. 

I am just tired now. Tired of being left behind. See, not like the move. Lame joke, but no more. No more am I reaching out and no more will I accept those who are thrown in my life for whatever reason. I am done. I hope my writing will some day be good and have a market, so I can just withdraw from the world. My mom will be by my side, but...well, besides her, I want to be alone. Message received loud and clear. No one wants you and no one ever will. 

Only Human

It seems, no matter how hard I try, I will never be normal. I know, it's the hipsters and outcasts pride to not be like everyone else, but I've kind of been trying to be like everyone else. I want to be normal, but I am unaware of which ways I am not normal. Case in point, my sister says she's mad at me. Color me surprised, because  I can't think of anything I've done wrong. She says your nephew was hurt, you didn't call. I was like I heard through the grapevine he was all right. She says that's not the way it works. If you love your nieces and nephews and hear something has happened to them, you call to check on them personally. I'm like really? Why? You already have the information that they're okay through the grapevine. Apparently, the goal is to show you care.
I was a little non-plussed and promised to try and do better, but mostly I need to overthink this. Like obviously, I can't be the only one to trust the grapevine that someone is doing well, but it felt frustrating, and also like a gulf opened up between me and where I want to be. In my mind, I'm showing I care. In my mind, learning from someone else, how someone is doing, is sufficient to show I care enough to ask. To learn.
My idea of showing I care is that I genuinely want to know if you're okay or not, no matter how this information is obtained.  The problem is that, once I know you're okay, I tend to vanish back into whatever has absorbed me from the beginning.
I feel like there's this detachment of sorts from me and everything around me, but I am unaware of its existence until someone points it out. Then it's like I can't unsee it. I've never been one to think oh this is how they say you should act, so I should act it. It's more like if I feel logically it makes sense, then I wonder why didn't I do it? The answer is usually as simple as I didn't think about it, and as I don't have natural reactions, it leads to weird conversations of familial propriety.
I attribute most of it to being raised away from most people. I wasn't isolated, but in a situation of in a crowd full of people, still feel alone. Everyone did their thing and I endured whatever I was going through in silence.
I wish I could say my silence was sort of an oppressed thing, but really it didn't get that way until years later. The first times it happened, it was because I didn't really care about certain situations. Being shunned by popular girls who giggled all day like airheads, put me of the opinion that they were idiots, so I was better off. Sure it hurt when they invited my sisters to birthday parties, but not me, but for the most part, I didn't notice it. My brain always felt preoccupied with something else. Like seeing another world.
I've always been especially enamored of the outdoors, but it feels like someone is always watching and listening and as if there are two worlds and not just this one. I didn't think much of that, until I started to see the second world, then it's almost like am I crazy? My response is probably, but I'm okay with that.
However, I realized that animals and nature don't often speak.They have noises and for everyday functions use sounds, but I feel like they aren't really speaking. Their bodies speak for them. Their actions speak for them. I think it's why I've always had a hard time believing words over actions. Words are empty. They are broken, separated, torn apart, and spread like ashes whenever the speaker chooses. However, their actions are consistent.
If you tell me, you'll always be there, but you're almost never physically there. Then I'm not going to believe you'll always be there. A lot of my friends show their actions by asking about how I'm doing, coming around specifically to check in with me and other stuff. Things that over time with their words, let's me know, they're there for good.
Humans don't have tails to raise in times of dominance or lower in times of fear. They don't have twitchy, lashy tails when irritated, or use them as tools. Humans use words, but words lie. However, the reliance on words reveals the truth behind them. Some people don't mean what they say and some people don't know what they mean.
I miss the simplicity of my word is my bond and not being okay with actions that feel misleading. I suppose it's why I need to stop looking at people's body language and start listening to what they say. Maybe it's reverse and everything I need to know is only human words and not animal actions. I suppose in the long run we'll see.

Kids

For someone who at one point didn't want kids, the past few years of my life have been surprisingly inundated with me potentially acquiring kids. This comes in light of a proposal by my sis to possibly watch her two kids for a year or so, while she deploys. If she had asked me this ten years ago, I think I would have been freaking out and telling her to ask someone, anyone else. Instead, I'm strangely calm about it and feel...capable. After being desensitized to kids, then engendering a love of certain ones, it changed a lot of my outlook concerning the little buggers. Now, they're just my cubbies. Five of them to one auntie, but I've come to care about each of them in turn. 

In fact, contrary to popular familial belief, I've never specifically not wanted kids or rather, I've never said I didn't want any of my own. I just said I didn't like kids. So, what's the difference? Well, kids, are usually other peoples kids. They've influenced them, raised them, and done different things that just make them super unlikable. For instance, my initial dislike of kids, was due to one of my sisters babysitting jobs falling through on account of she was MIA. So, the duty, which became quite literal a few hours later, fell to me. Newbornish baby boy. Crying non-stop. 12 year old me, baffled on what to do with it. Someone suggests a diaper change. I'm the unlucky one to unravel the bubbling mass of witches brew that was the babies poop. It was liquid, horrifying, and indelibly etched into my brain as a really good reason to avoid kids. Exhibit B was my bio sperm donor having me watch his girlfriends kids like I was their mama. I had to bathe them, feed them, help them with their homework, go grocery shopping, and then some. Again at 12. If not for my canine pal White Wolf, I would have been a miserable mess. Hmm, okay, I was, but that's of no consequence for what I'm talking about. The point is, being responsible for kids, the eldest who was only three years younger than myself was the straw that broke the camels back. I felt like if I ever saw another kid again, it would be too soon.

So, fast forward 10 or 11 years, my eldest sis reenters my life with two kids. I'm foresworn to have nothing to do with them, then I end up babysitting them. Resentment is strong. Then we take them to the bay and they grow on me. When I'm at work, my niece runs to her mom to give her a hug, screaming mom and I wonder what it'd be like to have a cub run to me and call me mom. My small shrunken heart grew a size, half an inch, bigger. I start to think of them with terms like cute, adorable, smart, intelligent, and likable. I introduce one to anime and am comfortable with the close distance. Then another is on the way and I'm like this isn't a two year old or a five year old. This will be one of those spit up, diarrhea, creatures that I've dreaded. She comes into my life and I don't see her. Literally. My sis says there she is and I see a pink blanket and that's it. I ask where is she, and go closer for a sniff. My nose always investigates first. There she is. A smaller lump than a blanket, extremely fragile, and she looks like an alien. I tell my sis and she's not amused. Every animal instinct I own starts to reach out towards her. Much like it tried to do when she was in the womb. I avoid holding her for two days, then comes the dreaded hold the baby. A thousand scenarios of dropping her enters my mind, but instead she lies there and squints. I'm squinting too, but it's because of light sensitivity. I ask for the lights to be lowered just in case it's a problem for her too and she smiles at me. We've bonded.

I took care of her like she was my own cub and taught her the same body language. Nose touches nose. Forehead presses and cheek rubs. My friends know her intimately as she becomes my shadow. Everyone is astonished, including me. I ponder the idea of if a mate wanted cubs, would I be willing to have one and the answer is a surprising yes. If only, he would stay with me. Not to say, if it was a choice of stay with him, have a kid or leave, because I'd choose leave. Don't put an ultimatum on me. However, I would rather have his help in raising a cub, more than doing it all alone. It doesn't matter, but it is there. 

My time watching kids goes from a few hours, to days, to a week and a half. More and more I feel confident that I can do it alone, instead of feeling far out of my depth. I'm known as the strict one, but the kids are happiest with me. Punishment is endured by all. Hard to single a kid out for wanting to be with their siblings, even in punishment. So, to the corner my cub went. We adults tried not to laugh. Memories compile and  I feel a sense of power with knowledge, but still fear in watching kids. However, now I'm no longer afraid to watch them. I'm comfortable with it. 

My sister is contemplating employing me after I graduate to help with her kids. Maybe a year or two or until she retires in five years. I'm not sure and not really worried. I'm flexible after June. I just marvel at how the idea of watching two kids for a year no longer terrifies me. I believe I can do it and that's kind of the most amazing thing at all. Although, to tie back in to the top, that's why I feel like even though I don't have kids of my own, I feel like an accidental mom. One way or another, I've spent way more time watching kids these past few years than normal, but then I wonder, is this normal? Is this what aunties do? Spend all their time with the kids in their family? I feel like although I'm comfortable with kids, I'm still a far cry away from reacting as humans do, but that's a thought for another time. 

Caught in the Riptide

Most of the time, when people think of the future, they think about how short it is. They think about how much they want to accomplish and live and feel like they don't have enough time to do it in. Today, I became aware that I think the exact opposite.  I'm counting down the days to death. Not that I know them anyway, but I can't help but think, how much longer do I have left to live and it's so much time. Like if I am to live to sixty, and am 31 now, then I have 29 years left to live. I have plans, I want to accomplish things, but I also see the terror, tragedy, injustice, and horror of being humans and realize that with every accomplishment and occasion, I'll still have to live with that too. It makes me tired, more so than my soul already is. For such a young age, I've done a lot, accomplished a lot, and seen a lot. I've healed people and comforted them when they're broken and I dread the day I will lose them. I think of my mother's age and my soul sisters. I think what if one day they were all gone? What if I do outlive them and have to watch as they all pass away? Then on the flipside, I think if they outlive me, will they be able to carry on without me? It's all this really weird mystery, but also this looking back and forward at the same time. In the past, the stones are laid and done. I can't change them, nor do I want to. I honestly, don't think anything would change even if I did try to change something. My family has recently realized  I have become almost immortal in who I am. They say people change, and I know I have, but I've also remained the same after a certain point. The lessons most people take until at least 50 to learn, I learned them all by 31. I can give advice as well as a social worker and live by my own decree that has navigated me successfully through this life, but at the same time, I think, now what? I mean I've not dated, but don't need to, to know the best way to get along and the best way to weed out a good mate, but also, I know that by learning this, I've made myself virtually undateable. I don't have a specific preference for anything, because I know everyone has preferences. I know that  I won't try to be something I'm not, because inevitably, I'll only return to be who I am most comfortable being, which as many people know may not always be as attractive as one would hope. I want to experience so much, but I have a limited amount of things I want to experience. Like many people want to experience everything and as much as they can. I don't mind tagging along, but my list of things to experience and make me happy is much, much shorter. I've given up on dating, so it made my list chibi sized. It's not a bucket list, unless my house doesn't get built before I die, because I know I can experience everything on it in the next ten to twenty years. Barring any bad stuff happening, which will manifest in some form or another, so I've got that covered too. If one word could describe me,  I now know it would just be accepting. A trick I learned from my soul twin and of course bruce lee or whoever came up with the idea of be water when a force rises up against you. Bad things are always going to happen. I could resist and give myself more damage, or just let it roll on by. It might snag and hurt a bit with rocks and debris, but in general if I let it go, it will fade. I think that's why I'm ready for life to end already. Not in an I want to end my life sort of way, but in a unless aliens fall to Earth, not much can surprise me these days. I'm just like hmm. It probably helps, I can often read people and situations almost to a T, that I know how to react, despite my emotions wanting what could be, I know what is. However, the possibilities will help me write. Just thinking too much on a quiet night. Always quiet on the outside and used to be turbulent inside, but slowly mellowing, okay well further mellowing with age. I feel like a tree just settling deeper into its roots, ready for storm, fire or what may come until it dies. It's not a bad thing, but many will view it as so. Hence, why I write where no one really reads. I no longer think my innerme is my enemy exactly. She's my motivation, but too late to change the title now or if I can I'm too lazy to do it, so meh. The next few years have potential for change, but also, it has just as much potential to stay the same and I like that. I like that I can look back on videos, unfortunate ones, taken of myself and think ah, that same general unenthusiasm and measured response is still the same. That same uncertain sense of style is there and more. Either way, this song seemed fitting for the day since it's been running through my head a lot. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XyLwf0SecLU I don't own it. ;) 

Loss

What do you do when all you've ever wanted is gone? That you've striven to hold onto something so small, simple, and easier than wanting riches and fame. You think you're born into a family, so how hard can it be to be a part of one, to feel like you belong, to feel safe, loved, and cared for? I shouldn't have to want comfort from strangers who have to replace those of my own flesh and blood. I shouldn't have to say that the only people in my life who care about me, didn't even know me until I was well past 18. I was technically legally an adult, by the time they came to care for me, but they do a better job of it than the people I grew up with for the last 30.
My bio family has been one I've striven to protect, to give chance after chance, to let them continue to be a part of my life no matter how badly they treat me, but I've reached the final straw. The camel's back is broke. I don't know if I can care any more, if I can look them in the eye and find any semblance of love there. It makes me wonder if maybe there was never any there for so long, but I hoped that it was.
This last time was so ludicrous that I can't wrap my mind around it and after all of it happens, even though it's me who was victimized in the situation, I got told that the other party feels better after we got to fussing. That they feel better because it was a bad day for them, but now they're over it. We can move on with kittens and roses and the sun is shining so brightly. I'm like I see nothing but a black hole where our relationship was before. I see nothing but seething rage over the silliness that sparked the argument. I see nothing but betrayal when you tell me you side with my sister, when you helped me get into the situation in the first place.
I am so beyond pissed that I can't do anything but cry, rage, cry, feel numb, experience shock, then rage and cry some more. I cannot abide by this. I can't. I can't let it go, I can't forgive, I have the inability to really want to even talk to that person, let alone be around them after what happened. I sacrificed my entire weekend to help out and all I got was snide remarks that I didn't want to be bothered by a niece and nephew I'd already been bothered by for some hours and handled it solidly enough. I got snide remarks about how I put my homework first, after giving up a lie in since two adults older than me were screaming so loud, the kids tv couldn't cover the noise, who were slamming things around and making me worry about domestic violence. I obviously put my homework first, when I then fed the kids, went shopping for the household, took the kids out to the park, drove the kids 20 minutes home and 20 minutes back, then stopping off in two different locations, before returning home, helping look for a missing wallet diligently for an hour and keeping the pets out of the way the best I could so as not to annoy the person looking for said missing wallet then taking up my own responsibility to give my cat food and water to show that I didn't expect my mom to do everything. It just so happened that in this entire day of focusing on my homework, before starting it at 10 o clock at night, when it was due by 11, that I moved some clothes in the closet on hangers, back a little to look at a box on the floor while looking for cat food. It just so happened that at some point, unbeknownst to me a robe fell off the hanger. I also forgot to put the clothes back. This turned the snide remarks into full on disparagements of me tearing someone's house apart just because  I thought they were neglecting my cat. That I was too busy focusing on my own work to put the closet back to the way it was. This awarded me not just an argument where it was lamented that a 30 year old would dare defend herself in a house, she helped pay for not that long ago when the car and rent were in jeopardy without a complaint, but also a locked bathroom door that remained shut as if the inhabitant inside couldn't bare to look me in the face until they thought I had gone to bed. Then they came out and went peacefully to sleep, ignored me for the most part the next morning, then want to give me a hug goodbye with an I love you.
Really? Really? Which part of me do you love? The one whose there in an emergency only. The one who goes out of her way to help, when she gets shit on in return?  The one who has had so many late assignments over this quarter it will be a miracle if she passes for putting everything aside to help out her family?  Her freaking family who can't even look her in the face because a robe fell on the floor in a closet on the second floor and she didn't notice or fix it? The family that puts her down for needing help of any kind, and everyone thinks she's immature, irresponsible, lazy, and needs to grow up and be independent? What fucking family is that?
All I've ever wanted in this godforsaken life was to try to be there for my family and to have them support me and care about me and not a goshdamn one of them can accomplish it without resenting me in some way. I can bend over backwards, sell everything I own and take a bus for life for them and they will only ever see what affects them. I cannot do it any more. I just can't. I can't go on acting like everything is fantastic, that all is forgiven, when it's not. I wavered on some decisions regarding my family, but they are going to be finalized. Everyone wants to look out for themselves, fine, I'm looking out for me. I'm putting me first. I'm going to be the most selfish person any one knows and I'll be damned if any one pisses on me about it. Fuck you. You had all the 30 years in the world to appreciate my selflessness that has allowed me to stand by your sides, to support you all, to try and hold this stupid family together by sheer will alone, but no more. If I can't expect you to be behind me, I don't want you anywhere near me. All I wanted was love and I got hate, so I'm giving hate back tenfold. Fuck everything.

The Problem with Energy

Being an energy user, if given the right support, can become just an every day thing in your life. You use it, you feel it, you read it, you absorb it, it's all like breathing after a while. The downside to being an energy user is that you leave trails of it behind and you need a foundation for it to feel right. For me, my energy base is my room. Something that belongs wholly to me with various items infused with energy to give me a boost when I'm feeling low.  To walk into it is to become calm, but recharged. My bed always has to go one place, mirrors have to go another, my dressers, tv, closet, bookshelf. Everything has to go into a specific place in order for me to feel the best flow of energy in a room. 

It's no wonder I'm territorial as the inner tigress that I am. It's not just a room and my stuff, but my own energy I'm pouring into it, expecting it not to be disturbed or messed with. The problem with living with others who don't believe in energy work or who refuse to acknowledge it and learn to practice it properly, is they trample all over those lines in your absence and even though you can feel it across the country, there's nothing you can do to keep it there when every essence of you is slowly and meticulously erased from a room. 

I suppose it's expected. Move out, and other people will move in, but what I don't like is people who tell me my energy and stuff will be as I left it when I come back, until I'm ready to lessen those bonds, then I ask what are they doing and they're like changing your entire room. Oh yes and that room won't be yours anymore. We're moving you elsewhere, if you'll have a room at all. They think it's just a room, but it's not just a room. It's the foundation of my energy until I can find a new place to set up and charge. However, it's impossible to stress the importance of the destruction of such a thing to people who don't understand or really don't care. They can't feel the eradication and broken bonds and displacement felt when you walk into a room that might as well be warded and see everything in tatters.

Then I'm supposed to act like nothing is wrong, when I feel this overwhelming suffocation, because I can't find safety anywhere in the room. Naturally the longer I stay in it, the more it will naturally be imbued with my energy and I'll feel more at ease, but I feel like if you say I'm welcome there and not to move my stuff out, make sure you mean it. Don't wait three months and suddenly out of the three rooms in the apartment, one to each person, one person gets two rooms, the other gets mine and I'm left in limbo. Not to mention the two rooms are identical, one not used and one mine. Why take my room when there's one that remains unused for months on end? 

I know of course the answer is to get my own place, which I'm working diligently toward, but until then, it'd be nice if I could believe people when they say they will leave my wards alone. It's exhausting getting a room to feel just right, so I go in and breathe a sigh of relief. Instead now I'll go back and just feel frustration, rage, and hopeless. Going to be a rough two years. :S