Everyone who had the power to make me feel is gone…I lost them all to the trite affairs of life. And only once you’ve been this terribly insulted by fate can you allow yourself to get so far from the idea of feeling…to become completely indifferent and emotionally hollow. It was a foreign concept at first and I could never have imagined I would adopt it so readily. But it has become such a strong part of me that I’m afraid I no longer know how to relate to humanity.
From one city to the next, life has ceased to charm me in any valuable way. At first glance, the different flocks of people, adorned in their own city’s armor, appeal to my soul’s thirst for the unknown…but each time, it’s a predictable story, it’s a story I’ve already read, I’ve already lived. It’s a pain I’ve already known. And so I let myself go hungry for another night…but as my heart continues to starve, I watch the flicker of light inside me dimming. I tried to remove myself from what I thought to be too cruel to endure…and yet here I am, broken and hurt as ever.
4.20.2011
Lies I've Told My Parents
1. when i was 16 and had just tried acid for the first time...I came home and told my mom I was pregnant to distract her from my psychedelic behavior. "happy grandma day, mom...love, your trippin daughter"
2. when they disapproved of my boyfriend Nate, I told them I was dating my friend James who was actually gay
3. after failing 3 of my 5 classes first semester of college freshmen yr...i told them i had PTSD. i got an A in my theater class, go figure.
4. i'm spending the weekend at Kellys...and by that i meant: i'm flying to Miami for a 2 day immorality binge. (if i don't make it back alive...see ya all in hell)
5. "I've got a huge test on Monday...won't be able to make it to the family reunion" truth: i'd rather eat raw liver than spend time with our fucked up family. i resent being called fat by anorexic Aunt May...i can't stand cousin tom giving me sceevy looks. and bless her heart, but i HATE reminding grandma who the fuck i am every 5 minutes. why are they all such freaks???? yes, i will always have a huge exam the monday after a family reunion.
6. "the interview went great!"...i got trashed in a hotel room with my ex-drug dealer/boyfriend...an hour before the most important post-grad job interview of my life. then i proceeded to regurgitate some quality lines...as my potential employer looked at me stunned/confused/entertained. oh well, shit happens.
7. "all i've ever done is tried to make you happy"...but only after i made myself happy first.
8. "im at a charity event for my sorority...again" - yea if "socials/formals/mixers" can be referred to as "charity events"
9. "mom of course im taking care of my health!" ... by not sleeping/eating, drinking at 3 pm, then fucking random guys i'll never talk to again...oops. it was college, give a girl a break.
10. "it was so not my fault!! he came out of nowhere and just rammed into my car!" ... in my defense, how am i supposed to put makeup on, drink my coffee, steer the car, and text....all at the same time?!? a person is bound to crash at some point.
2. when they disapproved of my boyfriend Nate, I told them I was dating my friend James who was actually gay
3. after failing 3 of my 5 classes first semester of college freshmen yr...i told them i had PTSD. i got an A in my theater class, go figure.
4. i'm spending the weekend at Kellys...and by that i meant: i'm flying to Miami for a 2 day immorality binge. (if i don't make it back alive...see ya all in hell)
5. "I've got a huge test on Monday...won't be able to make it to the family reunion" truth: i'd rather eat raw liver than spend time with our fucked up family. i resent being called fat by anorexic Aunt May...i can't stand cousin tom giving me sceevy looks. and bless her heart, but i HATE reminding grandma who the fuck i am every 5 minutes. why are they all such freaks???? yes, i will always have a huge exam the monday after a family reunion.
6. "the interview went great!"...i got trashed in a hotel room with my ex-drug dealer/boyfriend...an hour before the most important post-grad job interview of my life. then i proceeded to regurgitate some quality lines...as my potential employer looked at me stunned/confused/entertained. oh well, shit happens.
7. "all i've ever done is tried to make you happy"...but only after i made myself happy first.
8. "im at a charity event for my sorority...again" - yea if "socials/formals/mixers" can be referred to as "charity events"
9. "mom of course im taking care of my health!" ... by not sleeping/eating, drinking at 3 pm, then fucking random guys i'll never talk to again...oops. it was college, give a girl a break.
10. "it was so not my fault!! he came out of nowhere and just rammed into my car!" ... in my defense, how am i supposed to put makeup on, drink my coffee, steer the car, and text....all at the same time?!? a person is bound to crash at some point.
4.15.2011
Ennui of Modernity
what good are words if they can't even be spoken??? what is the point of emotions....if they can't even be expressed??? my life is a series of meaningless moments tied together by nothing but passive progression. it kills me, i swear...it kills me to realize how presumptuous it is for someone who has been given every luxury that mankind can provide to speak of dissatisfaction, to complain of unhappiness. it's for this very reason that i can't divulge my truths to another person... it's as if i feel so strongly that it can't possibly be manifested in any socially acceptable form...so i keep everything suppressed, doing my best to maintain some level of "normal". ive been feigning this aura of mellowed content for so long that i can't even remember how to be real anymore. and the longer i pretend to have my shit together, the further i get from the image.
i'm really not some dragged-to-death melodramatic stuck-up bitch...it's only when i'm confined to solitude...for weeks at a time, and ive got no release...that i find myself trapped in a vicious cycle of complete darkness. maybe ive got some serious hormonal grand malfunction. and it's turning me into this hyper-aware hyper-conscious ball of dread. it's the thinking that destroys me...i "think" to the point of insanity and it always ends with me dismissing my entire existence as a philosophical enigma.
in the past, when it got to be completely unbearable...you know how i would make it through the day? with the help of a white synthetically derived compound that was my knight in shining armor, my band-aid when i was bruised, and the sole reason for my fleeting episodes of clarity. i knew it was never a long-term solution...but to be able to take a break from my own mind...even if only for a few minutes...it was the greatest blessing i've ever received. it was the only thing in my life that i genuinely felt thankful for...the only thing in my life that i was passionately protective of. the doctors and therapists would all tell me how that was what normal people call an addiction. but how can something that is supposedly so bad for me be the source of my only happy memories?
It was always a fascinating thought: what was the reason for my (mis)actions. I wasn't happy with the qualities I had/the skills I possessed. God has created us all with both talents and handicaps. By taking a man-made substance...in order to mask my diseased nature...was i declaring war against the creator of the universe? In a way, i guess by taking drugs to "feel better" than ourselves...we are inadvertently acknowledging the flaws we were born with...but god doesn't make mistakes...so why were some of us born with cuts that others take for granted? why couldn't i have been born to a family who showed me unconditional love every step of the way? how is it possible that i was raised in a mountain of wealth....only to come out the other end feeling worthless and emotionally abandoned. To be honest, i would rather have had never known a family...than to have experienced the jerking pain back-and-forth that comes with broken ones.
i used to know the type of kids who have "dinner at six" because their mom made tuna casserole...who get caught drinking underage/get Cs in science/date "bad-boys" against their parents' wishes....and after it was all said and done...these kids would go home to a group of people who fucking loved them despite all the mistakes they had just made. how unbelievably incredible is that? ive spent the last 20 yrs doing nothing but please...try and try again...to convince the people around me that i'm worth it...i'm worth their time, i'm worth their love. and you know what it's gotten me? so much disaster that i can barely function in society. there is so much insecurity beneath my iced glaze. not the kind of situational insecurity that comes and goes...the kind of doubt that haunts you in your every step...that leaves you drenched in sweaty panic. i seriously question my will to live, on a daily basis. i constantly wonder if i have what it takes to be what i'm expected to be.
but the worst part about all of this is...is that i know deep down...what i feel is all a result of my own doing.
i'm really not some dragged-to-death melodramatic stuck-up bitch...it's only when i'm confined to solitude...for weeks at a time, and ive got no release...that i find myself trapped in a vicious cycle of complete darkness. maybe ive got some serious hormonal grand malfunction. and it's turning me into this hyper-aware hyper-conscious ball of dread. it's the thinking that destroys me...i "think" to the point of insanity and it always ends with me dismissing my entire existence as a philosophical enigma.
in the past, when it got to be completely unbearable...you know how i would make it through the day? with the help of a white synthetically derived compound that was my knight in shining armor, my band-aid when i was bruised, and the sole reason for my fleeting episodes of clarity. i knew it was never a long-term solution...but to be able to take a break from my own mind...even if only for a few minutes...it was the greatest blessing i've ever received. it was the only thing in my life that i genuinely felt thankful for...the only thing in my life that i was passionately protective of. the doctors and therapists would all tell me how that was what normal people call an addiction. but how can something that is supposedly so bad for me be the source of my only happy memories?
It was always a fascinating thought: what was the reason for my (mis)actions. I wasn't happy with the qualities I had/the skills I possessed. God has created us all with both talents and handicaps. By taking a man-made substance...in order to mask my diseased nature...was i declaring war against the creator of the universe? In a way, i guess by taking drugs to "feel better" than ourselves...we are inadvertently acknowledging the flaws we were born with...but god doesn't make mistakes...so why were some of us born with cuts that others take for granted? why couldn't i have been born to a family who showed me unconditional love every step of the way? how is it possible that i was raised in a mountain of wealth....only to come out the other end feeling worthless and emotionally abandoned. To be honest, i would rather have had never known a family...than to have experienced the jerking pain back-and-forth that comes with broken ones.
i used to know the type of kids who have "dinner at six" because their mom made tuna casserole...who get caught drinking underage/get Cs in science/date "bad-boys" against their parents' wishes....and after it was all said and done...these kids would go home to a group of people who fucking loved them despite all the mistakes they had just made. how unbelievably incredible is that? ive spent the last 20 yrs doing nothing but please...try and try again...to convince the people around me that i'm worth it...i'm worth their time, i'm worth their love. and you know what it's gotten me? so much disaster that i can barely function in society. there is so much insecurity beneath my iced glaze. not the kind of situational insecurity that comes and goes...the kind of doubt that haunts you in your every step...that leaves you drenched in sweaty panic. i seriously question my will to live, on a daily basis. i constantly wonder if i have what it takes to be what i'm expected to be.
but the worst part about all of this is...is that i know deep down...what i feel is all a result of my own doing.
3.29.2011
My cubicle-sized catastrophe
Cubicles. Coffee. Calculating (the % risk your financial endeavors entail). M-F 9 to 5. This kind of confinement can drive any girl to make a few social missteps. Honestly, something about cubicles (and their eerie similarities to a cage)...typing away like a rat on a wheel...it transforms me into a fat, desperate girl with a ravenous appetite for only 2 things: attention and crispy creme donuts. After a few hours of staring blankly into my computer, I start hallucinating...around lunchtime, the 32 year old guy from the HR dept...whose got the wildest chicken legs and the most unsightly gut...starts looking "not so bad"!!! by 5 PM, "he could be on the cover of GQ".
It is in this state of deranged mentality that I completely faux-pauxed my way into social disaster. into a social ditch of hell and fury. That sounds dramatic. It is.
What's an appropriate name for a guy who has chicken legs, belly pudge, and occasionally movie-star good looks...how about, Tom? So one day around 4:55 pm...just when Tom "the guy from HR" was turning into Tom "the guy from Top Gun"...I get a new message on G-chat. It said: "you look beautiful today". It is exactly what I needed in that moment...when I was feeling especially deprived of superficial attention, vulnerable to my sweet-tooth, and dying for some mystery in my life. My instinctual reaction was to reply with something witty, playful, yet dense with sexual innuendos. Unfortunately for me, it was the end of a long day and I felt creatively drained , the best I could come up with: "I was hoping you would notice..."
Then a few minutes later, Tom walks by my cubicle with the largest grin on his face. I thought to myself "that was easy....secret admirer identified, mystery solved...i can live with that" But, then, I get a new message: "grace me with a date...dinner this Friday?" Tom could not have possibly reached his computer that fast, could he have? I was caught off guard. completely confused. To speed this story up (as i am about to pass out in my bed)...the "secret admirer" ended up being this geeky looking freak of nature who works down in the mail room. The mail room, for heaven's sake! Tom knew mystery man was sending me a message...Tom was grinning for his "bro's victory". Ugh, pure disgust.
I felt socially obliged to go on a date with the mailman, especially after his supposed "grand display of affection" (ha!...i always thought "grand display of affection" would involve a prince charming flying me to Paris for the evening, on his private helicopter...but no, I get the mail room guy g-chatting me for a domestic dinner.....at ARBYs!!!!!!). That was all quite traumatic...but the worst part is...Now, we are the office couple!!! And only after one date!! would you believe that? I throw up a little every time I picture other people picturing me and mailman doing ANYTHING together, in the same room...even in a 5-floor radius of one another. The mere thought makes my whole body shudder and twitch in aversion.
As if falling asleep isn't hard enough when you have clinical insomnia...now I've got this horrible incident to keep me tossing and turning.
Until next time,
ElyVas
It is in this state of deranged mentality that I completely faux-pauxed my way into social disaster. into a social ditch of hell and fury. That sounds dramatic. It is.
What's an appropriate name for a guy who has chicken legs, belly pudge, and occasionally movie-star good looks...how about, Tom? So one day around 4:55 pm...just when Tom "the guy from HR" was turning into Tom "the guy from Top Gun"...I get a new message on G-chat. It said: "you look beautiful today". It is exactly what I needed in that moment...when I was feeling especially deprived of superficial attention, vulnerable to my sweet-tooth, and dying for some mystery in my life. My instinctual reaction was to reply with something witty, playful, yet dense with sexual innuendos. Unfortunately for me, it was the end of a long day and I felt creatively drained , the best I could come up with: "I was hoping you would notice..."
Then a few minutes later, Tom walks by my cubicle with the largest grin on his face. I thought to myself "that was easy....secret admirer identified, mystery solved...i can live with that" But, then, I get a new message: "grace me with a date...dinner this Friday?" Tom could not have possibly reached his computer that fast, could he have? I was caught off guard. completely confused. To speed this story up (as i am about to pass out in my bed)...the "secret admirer" ended up being this geeky looking freak of nature who works down in the mail room. The mail room, for heaven's sake! Tom knew mystery man was sending me a message...Tom was grinning for his "bro's victory". Ugh, pure disgust.
I felt socially obliged to go on a date with the mailman, especially after his supposed "grand display of affection" (ha!...i always thought "grand display of affection" would involve a prince charming flying me to Paris for the evening, on his private helicopter...but no, I get the mail room guy g-chatting me for a domestic dinner.....at ARBYs!!!!!!). That was all quite traumatic...but the worst part is...Now, we are the office couple!!! And only after one date!! would you believe that? I throw up a little every time I picture other people picturing me and mailman doing ANYTHING together, in the same room...even in a 5-floor radius of one another. The mere thought makes my whole body shudder and twitch in aversion.
As if falling asleep isn't hard enough when you have clinical insomnia...now I've got this horrible incident to keep me tossing and turning.
Until next time,
ElyVas
3.18.2011
In the Blink of an Eye
I used to have a friend named Bri. She was ridiculously beautiful and dangerously beyond her years. We both were obsessed with working out until our knees gave in and our lungs collapsed...that is basically what our bond consisted of, at least in the beginning. One day after a grueling two hour run, we were waiting for our ride. Standing outside that upscale gym, happily exhausted, we took note of how beautifully the sun sets, the way the sky appears smeared with pastel-colored romance...we were both entranced by the serenity of it all, how overwhelmingly powerful a simple moment can be! That peace, for those few minutes, was more significant to my life than I could have ever imagined...for it was the last time I experienced such a sensational comfort in being alive, in being myself, in being a kid at the brink of take-off.
Bri's friend, in his embarrassingly beat up Honda Accord...pulled up the same way he always did (which i later termed D's "signature screech"): sharp turn, tires screeching, abrupt brake...then, a loud honk. I couldn't understand why Bri was so infatuated by this guy, he represented everything we had denounced by the 7th grade. Aside from his age (which was always an ambiguous 20-something), he had nothing on us. Anyway, the next few minutes are kind of a blur, I can't remember exactly what happened but we exchanged hellos (or rather, head-nods)...and then he was gone. He had not come to pick us up after all...I was confused and waited for Bri to explain what had happened...but all she said was, "my mom will be here in 15...D never came by here and we haven't seen him all day, ok?"
I was 15 and I had (unknowingly) just witnessed my first drug deal.
Bri's friend, in his embarrassingly beat up Honda Accord...pulled up the same way he always did (which i later termed D's "signature screech"): sharp turn, tires screeching, abrupt brake...then, a loud honk. I couldn't understand why Bri was so infatuated by this guy, he represented everything we had denounced by the 7th grade. Aside from his age (which was always an ambiguous 20-something), he had nothing on us. Anyway, the next few minutes are kind of a blur, I can't remember exactly what happened but we exchanged hellos (or rather, head-nods)...and then he was gone. He had not come to pick us up after all...I was confused and waited for Bri to explain what had happened...but all she said was, "my mom will be here in 15...D never came by here and we haven't seen him all day, ok?"
I was 15 and I had (unknowingly) just witnessed my first drug deal.
3.03.2011
Wanna be (faKebook) friends?
It's interesting to think about how anonymous blogging can be and how completely true (or false) we can write our feelings...for all the world to read. there is no reference needed for your thoughts and alleged mishaps. you don't have to cite MLA format at the end of an emotional hodgepodge of run-ons and fragmented ideas. thank god for ellipses...and misplaced periods.
this infinite "freedom" to express what is in our minds to the best of our capabilities...through whichever avenue we see fit...is commonly interpreted as a blessing. like, for example, you could tweet furiously to appease your passive aggressive nature, without upsetting a single person. or vent on facebook to only a select group of people who are privy to the REAL you...the one who is jealous and insecure...and warrants the "mean girl/bitch" label. or if networking isnt your style...and you would rather have an entire page dedicated to your self...you can blog. about anything and everything. and most chances are someone out there in the webisphere will probably come across your page (and may even read it, if youre lucky).
thats nice to feel connected to other people who are also finding some level of solace in confiding to the entire universe and exposing their true selves. actually, i take that last sentence back...im pretty sure that nowadays people make their first virtual footprint consciously aware and egotistically optimistic that other people will catch on fast and love what they have to write. so our "true self" actually becomes masked by our "public self"...the self that seeks approval and will hope to gain it even at the expense of its own authenticity. so there's that issue. but theres an even larger problem with this uninhibited, free-for-all, public eagerness to share so much of our lives in so many different ways to so many different people...you see where i am going with this?
there are days when my facebook and twitter activities have reached the upper-level of normal (and healthy). in those moments, im on some sort of mission that even i don't really know much about...except that by the end of the web-posting massacre, i hope to be happier than i was when i began...and most importantly, i expect to be socially fulfilled...as if having erratic one-sided conversations can ever satiate that gnawing need for 3d human interactions. amusingly enough, i think the amount of time you spend "internet-ing" is inversely proportional to how content you feel. it's kind of like the "money can't buy you happiness" idea. in the sense that, money most definitely can buy you happiness, but with the presumption that you are not missing an essential element from the framework of humanity. i.e. support system/self-assurance/hope. in other words, if you aren't intrinsically fucked up...then $$$ can make your life more convenient which translates into a shopping bag full of happiness. so with that parallel in mind, i think socializing via the web can be appreciated but only in those who already have a consistent and concrete social income. (i.e. no psychological hangups, no DSM worthy diagnoses, no daddy-issues...etc etc).
i'm afraid i may be in the group of intrinsically fucked-up people...i mean, i'm not THAT far gone, because i obviously realize there is something wrong if i am searching in a small black box for the qualities normally found in a complex unpredictable human mind. at the end of my viral sprees filled with nonsense and meaningless bullshit, i usually feel cheap, as if ive just whored myself out like a low-class hooker. the comparison is harsh and probably a little extreme, but i'm being completely honest...that is exactly how i feel. mostly b/c i think i'm wanting some profound connection/meaningful interaction...but instead i'm getting back the same garbage i sent out...stale and thoughtless, small talk. after i stop feeling like a hooker, i start having regrets about how i've broken myself into a million little pieces, all thrown into different directions. im not completely whole anymore...what a tragedy... i'm violently exhausted.
until next time,
ElyVas
this infinite "freedom" to express what is in our minds to the best of our capabilities...through whichever avenue we see fit...is commonly interpreted as a blessing. like, for example, you could tweet furiously to appease your passive aggressive nature, without upsetting a single person. or vent on facebook to only a select group of people who are privy to the REAL you...the one who is jealous and insecure...and warrants the "mean girl/bitch" label. or if networking isnt your style...and you would rather have an entire page dedicated to your self...you can blog. about anything and everything. and most chances are someone out there in the webisphere will probably come across your page (and may even read it, if youre lucky).
thats nice to feel connected to other people who are also finding some level of solace in confiding to the entire universe and exposing their true selves. actually, i take that last sentence back...im pretty sure that nowadays people make their first virtual footprint consciously aware and egotistically optimistic that other people will catch on fast and love what they have to write. so our "true self" actually becomes masked by our "public self"...the self that seeks approval and will hope to gain it even at the expense of its own authenticity. so there's that issue. but theres an even larger problem with this uninhibited, free-for-all, public eagerness to share so much of our lives in so many different ways to so many different people...you see where i am going with this?
there are days when my facebook and twitter activities have reached the upper-level of normal (and healthy). in those moments, im on some sort of mission that even i don't really know much about...except that by the end of the web-posting massacre, i hope to be happier than i was when i began...and most importantly, i expect to be socially fulfilled...as if having erratic one-sided conversations can ever satiate that gnawing need for 3d human interactions. amusingly enough, i think the amount of time you spend "internet-ing" is inversely proportional to how content you feel. it's kind of like the "money can't buy you happiness" idea. in the sense that, money most definitely can buy you happiness, but with the presumption that you are not missing an essential element from the framework of humanity. i.e. support system/self-assurance/hope. in other words, if you aren't intrinsically fucked up...then $$$ can make your life more convenient which translates into a shopping bag full of happiness. so with that parallel in mind, i think socializing via the web can be appreciated but only in those who already have a consistent and concrete social income. (i.e. no psychological hangups, no DSM worthy diagnoses, no daddy-issues...etc etc).
i'm afraid i may be in the group of intrinsically fucked-up people...i mean, i'm not THAT far gone, because i obviously realize there is something wrong if i am searching in a small black box for the qualities normally found in a complex unpredictable human mind. at the end of my viral sprees filled with nonsense and meaningless bullshit, i usually feel cheap, as if ive just whored myself out like a low-class hooker. the comparison is harsh and probably a little extreme, but i'm being completely honest...that is exactly how i feel. mostly b/c i think i'm wanting some profound connection/meaningful interaction...but instead i'm getting back the same garbage i sent out...stale and thoughtless, small talk. after i stop feeling like a hooker, i start having regrets about how i've broken myself into a million little pieces, all thrown into different directions. im not completely whole anymore...what a tragedy... i'm violently exhausted.
until next time,
ElyVas
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