9.4.20
Dissatisfaction, part 1.
I think about it, talk about it and there's so much excitement, the ideas grow like spring, but then I leave and alone it feels like burning in the summer sun, too hot for anything to thrive.
Expectations are complicated, especially the ones about oneself. Why is this so overwhelming when all I need to do is start and prevail?
I know that every little thing will make a whole move. Still, I find it impossible to get out of this grip. Like a giants hand weighing me down, stirring up my brain, suddenly everything is foggy and I lose sight, I can't enjoy the process if there is none, and that is on me, entirely.
I remember a time when things were clear, right before the need came back up, it didn't last for long but it was while I was sad, so this is not depression heavy on my limbs, it's more about stiffness, keeping things hard, still. I can't create when my shoulders are hard, I feel such dissatisfaction even in the ideal thought of life. What would actually make me happy? If anything was possible, what would I really want?
A novel, a balcony, nature, a tub. The music, the box, the zine, art. The study, the language, the sex, the love. The love. Do you want me to explain?
Finishing, finding settle within, but settle will never come. There is always another goal, more and such. But they have been tormenting me for far too long, and it may be time to let go.
Though maybe doing a small one, maybe the smallest one of all? It's a never-ending list, but a few "done" could make a new start.
The smallest, tiniest is the voice that guides.
5.4.20
Unfinished suicide.
Maybe this peace I`ve found within is just detachment, distance. A new coping mechanism to survive with all these big emotions that flood me since attachment has been far too painful, and maybe polyamory is too.
It all gets mixed up in my brain, it always has been that way. One and another just melt into each other and create so much more, and in that way, I try the same with the people I love, and I lose myself, again. It makes sense to do what my brain does too, especially if I've seen how far things can go in this process, how many answers I can find, how many new questions arise. Excitement.
But also, maybe, death is something I don't think about often, maybe it's not close enough, maybe I fear it too much, or maybe I don't at all. Maybe I'm just doubting myself again, even if I see the mixture. Maybe I need to dig.
- Weltschmerz: I wouldn't even know how to begin, but for this topic, the important would be that the world is a mess, it makes sense people don't see a way out and that something should be changed before the last stage. Providing care for people who have tried to kill themselves, works; but it is, in a way, only a band-aid. The change should be done earlier on, emotional care should be part of our most basic knowledge, taught in schools, at home. The change should be seen in equality of opportunities (not based on privileges or money), in freedom, in respect and dignity, in basic needs met for everyone, in basic knowledge being about empathy and care (for oneself, others, other living beings and the planet) instead of formulas that you will forget when you're out (I don't mean that these should be removed, but that there should be a better balance between art, science, humanistic and care). The change should be an entirely new system, an entirely new economy, no more divisions, but unions. The change should happen now, and it hurts to see so many people still asleep, selfish, stuck and stiff, it hurts to see governments that make no sense and people still believing in them, it hurts to see mistrust and betray between us, the same. This Weltschmerz is broad and includes anger for the governments, pain for the sleepiness and frustration for the inability to do immediate and real change.
- Detachment: Coping with the pain of these things I can't change that go against all my values, against my freedom, against my ideals, my love.
- Patriarchy: Believing I can't change anything (even if I can) since I wasn't raised with the confidence of someone who happened to be born with a penis. I live in such frustration because I can't fake it till I make it, I am just shy, or however you want to call it. I don't believe in me because penises are louder and have been practising the talk, the debate, the explaining, for much longer than vulvas.
*of course, there is much more to patriarchy that affects people with penises, but I won't go into that.
- Then we have my extreme emotionality, the overwhelming emotions, the panic attacks, the Weltschmerz again, the loop returns.
And then, there is all that I don't know.
I don't know what is happening in their minds, I don't know in which emotional state they are, how strong or sentencing it must be for them to make the decision of ending their lives. And I definitely don't know if I can make a difference at that stage.
All of this doesn't mean that I won't try to change things; just like knowing that being vegan and zero waste won't change anything on my own, I still do it, because I care and I know that together we can change things, and many others are doing it with me, hope.
Yet, the detachment maybe also coming from a place of peace, freedom, or even of love, and respect. But I am too tired to dig into this.
Or maybe it is related to my spiritual side, the one I keep trying to push away but it just pulls me back in too strong, the witchy and the universe. I'm ashamed, but I will continue to believe, and maybe someday, maybe even soon enough, I will be proud of who I am, in the complete sense. Until then, I will just say that what I believe in, brings me calm, about death.
I have been there myself too, in a way that has scared me, even knowing that I wouldn't take my own life. But that is exactly why I don't dare to believe that I can change things.
I don't quite understand this detachment when I feel so much.
I could have cried today after being overwhelmed by "the feelings", in a weirdly happy way, and just like that, I suddenly felt so sad, but then you wanted to hug me and I was calm, I could have slept peacefully. You asked me why I chose it here and it all came back, revisiting all these painful places in my heart, I could've cried. Being a burden, wishing to have never been born, my mother and my brother, my father and his family, my loneliness, the limbo I kept as a safe place, the migration, the loneliness, the loneliness even now. And I feared to be too much, overwhelmed by these other feelings, I didn't want to show it, even if you saw it anyway, my coping is to be strong and take care of the other.
We walked out then and I was so happy, talking about all these important topics felt light, easy. I was nervous, I was tired, I was happy and excited, I was envious, I was sad, I was scared... The number of emotions I feel in a day (and the amount) can't be recorded.
My heart was pounding when you ended the conversation and said you had things to do, I didn't know what to do, not for fear of your rejection, but for care for your pain, I just wanted to make it better, to be there for you.
And so we go back into it, I care so much, not only for you, not only for the ones close to me but for so many other living beings, then why am I so detached from suicide?
----
And to think that it all started with a Deja-vù.
2.4.20
Fantasmas
Hoy la vi sin querer,
queriendo.
Mirando fotos viejas la encontré,
su nombre destacado.
Pensé que no sería bueno,
que debía dejarlo ir,
pero no.
Abrí su carpeta y me gustó,
es linda.
Me duele.
"no quería, no quería"
Ya no puedo mantener los pensamientos,
me inundo de sensaciones,
contradicciones.
"yo no quería, no quería"
Pero no dijiste nada.
Sigo sin decir nada.
Sigo en una lucha interna,
una guerra fría entre el miedo y el amor,
para mi.
por mi.
"yo no quería, no quiero"
pero verla me descompuso,
como los coágulos grises,
sangre viva.
Belén.
Es primera vez que escribo tu nombre desde que pasó,
hace un mes conté la historia por primera vez,
tantas primeras veces,
tanto que no recuerdo.
A veces pienso en confrontarte,
pero, valdrá la pena?
Fuiste tu la perpetuadora?
Es extraño entenderlo todo,
ver el allá y el acá,
el eso y el otro.
Éramos microscópicas,
lo tuyo debe haber sido difícil.
Vi en tus ojos, presentes,
algo reprimido.
Una pena talvez, un dolor.
Y sé que culparte no cambia nada,
pero fue tu culpa.
Pero no tienes ni idea de lo que me hiciste,
o sí?
"No quería, yo no quería, no quiero".
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