You can totally feed me violins I won´t run. But I am running with you through crashing cars. Mama you´re with me and I´m with you. We´re both hyper aren´t we..? I can´t go a day being sick. it demands full concentration..!Yesterday. My troubles dont seem too far away. And i dont want them to be here to stay. I wish sometimes that my issues were difrerent. I think I want to have different issues. I cant continue this way. I need to feel like I am looking back on my issues not wandering amongst them. I wanna look at my cutting decade as some far away, sad voice that just gets clearer and clearer in what it wants to say. Like the interlude to the Nightwish song the Poet and The Pendulum. It´s sad in the beginning but gets more dramatic. So it was with me. It got more dramatic and I got further into the whole problem. THe probs that I didn´t want to cope with. When I get tempted now I get angry at first. Because I kinda long for that sadness. The melancolic infinite lovely beatyful sinn. And it´s so wrong. Like, it feels wrong from the inside of me not because people say so. Because that´s what matters. that I am back on that track where i can feel inside of me that I should choose to do something else. Something just as good..well better actually.
I jsut long for that darkness. But I know now that I can get there easely. without the knife. Without throwing up. Without destroying everything that I´ve faught for. I can get there. And I can even go there having some company. The story that I find myself in during a moment like that is the story where I find I crucify myself to begin with. I wish that I could take it all back. I wish I could atone. Im so sorry for what I´ve done. The littlest things. Even when I was a kid. I was so angry. Im so sorry for that. And during the time in school. I was so secretive. I wanted to be more than a human. more human than human. To atone. To make everything allright. I wanted to become perfect so that all my familymembers could live their imperfect, violent lives in peace. I wanted to be white so that they could be withered. that explains my fasciantion with Stigmata the movie...the death- subject in general. Because how far can you go inwanting to dehumanize yourself??
You can die. You can focus on ´´becoming´´ all the time. You are never there. It´s the state of mind...Are you really willing to go there? Are you really willing to be that perfect? ANd so how much would you sacrafice`? It´s an even circle I think...Or..at least it´s playing a game. I would regret it. I would punish myself for not going all the way. I would pray. Not to a loving God. The God that I had heard about all my life. The God who saved people in dull situations and evil times. To someone else. Someone I could identify myself with. I didn´t see back then that I was the one on the cross. That would have been an acomplishment for me...maybe...if I had seen it like that. I might have seen myself far far away. Even from such a dirty place as the crosses on the hill. Not even a dirty place like that was dirty enough for me I must have thought. No I thought I belonged to the intruder. The fallen angel. That was my identity. And so I prayed.. I haven´t forgotten the little seance I made in my room. Scary it was, actually. Sincere. Trembling. I can´t remember what I prayed. But i spoke to the most evil one. I just remember sitting there. I think I was inspired by the movie The Craft.
I think I made a lot of seances in my room. I made promises.To myself mostly. I arranged candles and scents and sticks and everything and turned up the heat so that I could sit there in my summerclothes on real comfortable, ready to improve myself. I don´t know who I prayed to those times. I didn´t pray to God. Well maybe I did. I know that I was very religious. I preached as a kid until people couldn´t stand me. I dont recall however that people really hated me. I guess I wasn´t that annoyuing always. But I know that I couldn´t stand the Nirvana shirts and the boys who were into that sort of thing. If only I knew back then what I would turn in to be. There existed so much hate on that school in the smal town.. No wonder a sensitive girl invents a shell just to be able to breathe properly. When I got home I would let go. GO to my room and just be. . When I went riding I would be angry sometimes at home. As if I had used all my energy at the ridingschool and there was just nothing left for my family. BUt I was also angry at other times. As if the sadness I must have perceived turned to anger. LIke I could see it do to my father. A lot. Maybe that explains. It took me years to let go of that shell.
I buried myself and i did it properly. I had to take everything I had learned in my childhood and rearrange it. I had to take what I could use and what I couldn´t use, learn how to throw it away. The techniques I learned is still in use today. I still have to rearrange situations that come up in my mind. and when I wanna punish myself I resculpture the whole thing. As with the cutting thing. I wonder if God would do the same thing to me as with the girl from the Craft who experienced the dissapereance of her scars. I don´t like them. I have to learn ho to still. I have to learn how to love them. Not accept them. Love upon them. I know that that will be a bigger miracle that if God just took them away. Scars don´t mean unforgivable mistake. They mean....Scar. Not wound. Im not bleeding. GOd stopped that. He created a body like this that would heal. he made sure that I was protected from myself. That I know that I have to protect myself from myself. Im no angel. He is.
Scars.. they show that you have fought a dragon right... they show you survived. ANd they are a reminder everyday. Dont take them away. look at them. use them. To grow. To move. To be aware of the fact that there is a world out there and we should fight it. We shouldn´t bury ourselves nor hide nor pretend....nor smile and be quiet. We should shout.
0 kommentarer:
Send en kommentar