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| Hello again, old friend.
I turn to you sometimes, when I have my whits about me, to help bring truth to the light.
Marie's away on a trip with some friends. I'm happy for her. It's been a long time since I've left the house to go someplace, especially with other people. Such times... bring such fulfillment, but also a reminder of how lonely we are. We always long for home, even if the place we live isn't the home we want to go back to.
I've been spending time with Christine in the evenings. It's been great. No, more than great. It's been wonderful. She's becoming a better person - really growing up. As soon as Marie left, she really started urging me to take life into my own hands and handle myself better, stepping into her sister's shoes, but in her own way. We've been kind of hanging out, like I said. Tonight we started watching Haibane Renmei... and now I remember why I loved watching anime when I was younger. Every once in a while, I think the right story comes along that really speaks to your soul. Maybe this is one of those stories. I'm halfway through... I wanna keep watching, but it's getting late. I toldChristine I wouldn't watch anymore episodes without her.
There's an age-old connection in my life between stories... certain ones... and the internet. Back when I was in middle school, I was always so depressed. I didn't have any friends at school. So many kids picked on me all the time... but somehow, I found "crying shoulder" in Sailor Moon. Maybe it was because Usagi and her friends dealt with real-life problems, but still had the supernatural courage to stand up to evil, to anything. Maybe it was because they believed in true love. Maybe itwas because they loved one another, and I longed for something like that. Maybe it was all those things, but at the time, that was what I needed in my life. And when the show was over... We didn't have any internet at our house at the time, so I'd go to the library when I could to read all the information I could about Sailor Moon. Sometimes I found sites with strange fiction: sometimes dirty; sometimes violent; sometimes lighthearted or ridiculous. For a time, before I knew what was fact or fiction, some of these stories got mixed up with the real one... and I'd spend my time daydreaming about what could be. When times got really rough, I started imagining that I was in the story. That I had a special connection to their world that had to be explained.
And somehow, over the years, I've grown too dependant on that "crying shoulder," the consoling dull glow of the monitor and the places it takes me to. For a long time I've known that I was obsessed with it, even when I wasn't depressed. I'm addicted to other, related things now... things I'm so used to having that I don't want to give them up, spending more time than is reasonable. Growing ever introverted, it gets harder to do the simplest tasks for other people. It makes me heartless. Just one of the many negative behaviours my obsession drives me towards...
Do not tempt the wrath of God. One day you may recieve it.
I have to keep telling myself. I have to make sure I still care about what's right or wrong, what's responsible and what's irresponsible. What I do in addiction and sin does not make me happy, but I claw at the walls for it nonetheless.
My father's got a little addiction of his own these days. He spends countless hours playing Unreal Tournament, from dinnertime on into the wee hours of the night. Now that the work has dried up, he's almost as irresponsible as I am. Almost. I'm always the most worthless one around here. My family pays me compliments for the most simple of tasks, even if they have to ask me several times, just because it's the only things I ever do for them. My dad's in a totally different part of his life than I am... if he wants to waste some time online chatting it up with the other UT guys, I'm okay with that I guess. He's worked so damn hard all his life... my mother, too. They work themselves to the grave.
And then you look at me... how proud and good-for-nothing I can be.
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The numbness in my left arm keeps getting worse. It used to be that I'd only feel it sometimes, but now it's almost constant. The doctor said it was tennis elbow last time I was in, but that was many months ago, and it's only gotten worse recently. It feels like I'm not getting much blood to my hand anymore. It wakes me up in the night, because no matter what position I keep my arm in, if I keep it still for too long it goes numb, almost.
It's not terribly scary though. When I accidentally slashed my left pointer finger open last summer, it killed a few of the nerve endings, so I'm used to the "feeling" of "not feeling." But this is a bit more widespread than I'd like... I need to stop leaning on my left arm so much during the day. I keep catching myself...
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I remember Elyse telling me about Haibane Renmei, and I always said I wanted to watch it because of how she described it: "It's not fast paced and there aren't any explosions - you guys wouldn't like it." Next time I see her, if I can remember, I'd like to bring it up.
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| I haven't had a use for this in a long time, but I gotta type it somewhere and I don't feel like mucking up any other avenues.
I'm depressed.
That is all.
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| You're still here? Go home. Movie's over.
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| I've been playing Tales of Vesperia a lot lately.
When I'm not playing, I've been wasting time online at a forum called Remod.
All the other stuff -- like music, writing, job hunting, and anything else, really -- has taken a back seat.
Now I've just about beat Vesperia.
I never wrote about Count Bass D's album and I told him I would weeks ago.
*****
Someone on Remod posted this by chance. I thought it was really interesting.
The Six-Lesson Schoolteacher, by John Taylor Gatto
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I'm off the wagon again as it were, so once more life is steadily losing it's glimmer and purpose.
It's pretty ironic that this is always the result, considering I do it to feel better. It lasts for mere minutes and then I feel worse than I did before.
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I have no job, no income. Everything I have is assigned to a creditor. I've gained weight. What has become of my life?
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