Saturday, February 4, 2012

past.

I found some of my old written thoughts, and then I cried:

the pill.
I wake up every morning and take a pill. This pill makes me stop wanting to kill myself. This pill helps me live to see the next morning when I take the next pill to live for the next day.

I go to bed every night and take a pill. This pill helps me sleep through the thoughts of killing myself. This pill helps me sleep through the night to be rested enough to live through the day to take the next pill to sleep through the next night.   

Every morning I wake up, and every night I go to sleep, and I take pills that help me stay alive.

Sometimes I think about the pills. About why I take the pills. Sometimes I take the pills and wonder: if I take this pill to make me not want to die, what is the point in living? These pills don’t give me a will to live. They don’t give me goals or purpose. They don’t give life meaning, and they don’t make me feel better. They make me stop wanting to kill myself, a cognitive-emotional state much different from wanting to live.

I hate myself for being a drain on the healthcare system. My cognitive ambivalence is painful. I believe that people like me should be allowed to die. There’s no sense in medicating me to help me live. It’s not like I’m going to accomplish anything.


beauty.
I’m not a writer, philosopher or singer. I’m not famous in any way. I’m a ‘nobody,’ but I have nothing to lose. I don’t fit in with society. I never have. I have social anxiety and I cope by being obscene. People say I don’t fit in ‘the box,’ but that’s only because I don’t know where the box is.

I was always taught to write without contractions. I obviously don’t follow rules. I was also taught that perfect wasn’t perfect enough, and that people only love you if you’re a socially acceptable form of ‘beautiful.’ I’m not. I’m ‘quirky beautiful,’ and my hips and bum are too big to fit into brand name clothing.
 
Socially Beautiful: A state of being. Includes attributes such as: tanned skin, straight or wavy hair, blue or brown eyes, slender build, and flawless skin.

Quirky Beautiful: A state of being. Excludes attributes such as: tanned skin, straight or wavy hair, blue or brown eyes, slender build, and flawless skin. Includes attributes such as: pale skin, curly hair, green eyes, curvy body (and hips), and scars.
 
Most of my work is left unfinished.

Beauty is a social construct. I live in a society that doesn’t view my appearance as beautiful. After contemplating where I’d fit in best, I realized I don’t. My skin is too light for the cultures that I’m aware of that appreciate a thick build for women. My skin is too dark for those that favor paleness. I have a pink undertone, not olive or yellow. My hair is curly, but mousey brown. 

I’m Canadian, but I prefer ‘favor’ to ‘favour,’ ‘behavior’ to ‘behaviour,’ and so on.

Most of my work is left unfinished.



I found some of my old written thoughts, and then I cried.

I cried because I remember at one point being so sad that I didn't want to live anymore. I remember at one point feeling so alone. I remember at one point refusing to make plans because 'I'd probably kill myself before then anyway.'

And then I cried again because I'm so thankful that I have made changes in my life to make myself happy now. I love my friends and family, and I feel loved by them too. I feel socially connected. I have goals and aspirations. I found some of my old written thoughts, and then I cried.

2 comments:

dys·func·tion said...

When I was testing the barrage of different antidepressents they threw my way, I found one that did just what you described. I was left emotionless. No lows, yes, but also no highs. Or anything else for that matter. Just vegetable consciousness.

I stopped taking it and told my doctor that I'd rather be depressed and miserable then nothing at all.

PS. You ARE beautiful. And not just 'quirky' beautiful, although I think it sounds cute when you say it, but truly, down to the core beautiful. *is jealous of your looks*

jedi starrunner said...

*hug* thank you.

As my original post says, I'm thankful that my life has turned around. I'm lucky that I came through my depression and am happy now.

In some morbid way, I think I'm lucky I was depressed for a while too. At least I can try to appreciate what other people are going through, and maybe give them hope that it can get better.

I still struggle to accept that I am 'allowed' to be pretty. It feels foreign to me. But people keep saying it, so one day I'll believe it... thank you xoxo