Why Won't You Die?

Let's just record how I'm feeling and what's going on for the purposes of retrospection. If I can see any connection between what I feel and what happens then maybe I can... do something with that information.

Listening to Vernian Process. They're nice and metallic.

Today, all I want to do is cry. I just want to bawl my fucking eyes out until it hurts to blink or move my face at all or cry more. I'm snapping at people and being horrible and insular as a result, it's really awful. Someone made an ever-so-slightly snide comment towards me, he's one of my best friends, and I told him to go fuck himself, injecting as much malice as I could into those three words. I meant it, which is what was terrifying. Nothing like this has happened in the past few years. It's happened before, let's be honest with ourselves, but that was just sheer existential dread. That's unavoidable. And it was much less intense and constant; it was brief moments of terror at the infinite expanding void that I can't help but peer into even though I know how terrifying I find it all. Anyway. I'm not miserable. I'm stressed and helplessly frightened. The future has always been bleak, but now it's on fire too. And the fire is leaking back into the present and grabbing me by the throat, if that's an apt metaphor.

Step one, complete. Good. It's been a long time since I've written like this. It feels good.

So what's going on? 'Scarnon? Uni's about to start. By which I mean in a week or two. I've convinced myself that everything will be fine once I'm studying full time again, which it won't. If I can just get all my books and start going to lectures then my life will have order. Wait, step back, uni will actually bring a lot of relief. That structure will be really helpful in keeping me sane. I don't do lots of free time. I just can't handle it. I stop talking to people and a steady rumination is all I can muster mentally. Having somewhere to be throughout the week will prevent this. But, my god, getting the books I need, fucking oath. There's only about five for my four subjects that I need. Okay, maybe eight. Fuck, that's heaps. That's stressful, because I refuse to get them new if I can manage to find old copies. Biology is tricky though, new editions every year. Expensive to boot. Then there's the distinction between 'prescribed' textbooks and 'recommended' textbooks. If Dante had ever tried to deal with the tertiary education system we would've seen a quick revision of Inferno. Overall though, getting books isn't incredibly stressful. Worst comes to worst, I can get them from the library. Worst comes to worster, I can go to the Deakin library with mum's student card.
I'm trying to get some money coming in. I've had a job interview, and I was nice and everything, but niggling doubt tells me I'll be unemployed and hopelessly adrift on a parent-steered raft for a few months more. Optimism isn't a current choice, I'll try, but I doubt it would work. I think that's recursion. It is. Right, steering away from that. I could get a job. There's nothing preventing me from doing so except myself. How depressing and cliched. Your greatest enemy is yourself! And maybe sharks with syringes for teeth! I've also tried again to go through the Centrelink channels and make a claim for youth allowance. Living at home and being technically under the care of wage-earning adults complicates that. And apparently there's a trust fund I don't know about that's going to give me more forms to fill in. I've made the claim, but now there are ridiculously complex form to fill out. Over 50 pages of them. Demanding information about the household tax returns for the past three years. I'll get their money, make no mistake, but I can't help feeling that they'll take a part of my soul as payment. Isn't that how the adult world works? I want to be independent, I want it so desperately, but this is precisely the mood that prevents me from doing anything about it. Dread. A hand of ice jamming itself into my stomach. Hey, I've used fire AND ice as analogies for this intense fear and confusion. That's not nice, you can't do that. The prospect of working isn't the frightening thing, it's the prospect that I might have to.

Considering, and that means decided upon, ditching Minus completely. I hate it. I'm sick of dealing with the people, and I'm sick of having it have any influence over my life. I thought this decision would jar me a little more than it has, which is not at all, considering it was a large part of my life at some point in the past. But, no. Nothing. I have ceased to care about helping those people at all. Look, you have pride, how quaint, how fundamentally backwards. Fuck off.

There's always more to say than I do say, but that was pretty substantial and cathartic.

And now some pretty words!

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Out of the way!
Move! Move
Out of the way
I'll trample you
Willfully
Purposefully
We'll see how well you work with
A spike through your middle
And then we'll see how much you can
Disrupt me then, you scarlet usurper
Of the mind
I'll have my revenge in time
Reformed is the theory
That you are the center
And do you pull the emotional strings?
Apparently not, it seems
But I've discovered your truth
Your nature is revealed
O, puppet master of madness
Deity of despair
I'll cut you out to prevent this
But at least you did it with flair
No more will I weep
Or laugh, but that's the price I pay
For peace of mind
Once you're out of there
So why won't you die?
You, heart of mine