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ackbang · 7 years

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personal shit under cut

so i do this thing. and i do it rather frequently. i never noticed it as a problem until about three or so years ago, because it’s just how it’s “always been”.

i hesitate to say that i went through trauma when i was a kid. it could have been worse, but i realize it was atypical. my mother passed away when i was in third grade. my dad remarried a year or two after. they divorced a couple of years after that. i was flung through dealing with the emotions that a lot of kids my age didn’t have to deal with. i didn’t fucking know what to do. all i knew, all i wanted to be, was to be strong. and being strong meant you didn’t cry. being strong meant that you just kind of dealt with what you had.

but i wasn’t ok. and it took me a long time to get as close to ‘ok’ as one can ever be, i suppose. and what really helped me was obsession.

i discovered dragon ball z in seventh grade. i fell, quite literally, in love with trunks. like, the type of shit that you cringe at when you look back. and my best friend (abbysucks) was with me through all of this. she humored me for some reason, and i know it’s because we both had our own way of dealing with shit. that she was going through stuff at the time too, and we just worked off of each other, helped each other through the best way we could figure out how.

she would send me letters addressed from him. we had voices for all the characters, stayed up late with the lights off acting out dates. i had a little trunks figure that came around with me everywhere. i had a fucking space maker dedicated to him, and he lived in my desk at school. i cried to his movie; i cried when he got killed. he was my fucking boyfriend, and nobody could have him. nobody.

i lost that little trunks figure, and abby had gotten me another one, but it wasn’t the same. the spark kind of was lost, and i was going into high school. my infatuation started to wane, but he was still there. i struggled freshman year. i disassociated with a lot of what happened that year. i have very consciously tried to forget that year of my life. i was a person i am ashamed to associate with--that i can’t believe a person like that even ever existed in me.

i clammed up. i stopped answering abby’s phone calls. i stopped seeing people. i don’t even know what i did. i turned sadness into anger. i was an awful fucking person. i tried to turn it around. i hated myself. i cut myself. i chugged down pills. i was pathetic in every god damn sense of the word. i went to school and existed. i got grades. i had a teacher ask me if i was ok. my friend saw my arms in gym class once. i was fine. everything was fine.

sophomore year came around and i literally woke up one day and was like “i’m tired of living like this. people have it so much worse. just fucking deal with it.” and that worked, somehow. i remember things after that. i remember having ups and downs like anybody else, but i hated less. i was happier more. i felt better adjusted. i made more friends.

i got a boyfriend. things were ok. somebody saw me and thought that was good enough. and i was “just good enough” really. he had somebody else he was interested in, but she said no, so i would do. we were together for almost five years. really we were together for three years and the last two were a strain of being too afraid of being without the other.

as things were going south, i was in my last two years of college. i had been running a role playing message board for several years, and was using it as my senior project. i wanted it to be perfect, i wanted to give as much as i could to my members. i poured hours into it--designing the website and then coding it. when i felt things going in my relationship, i poured more time into it. i did so much during that time, i often miss how much motivation i had for a project like that. it really felt like i was doing something. and i was doing a lot. i was obsessed with working on it, with the friends i made--they were my life.

but i was just covering things again. i took to self harm again--not as serious as it was before (not that it was before either). paper clips against my legs really. he didn’t know. but he told me i should get therapy. that i needed to not be so angry anymore. i felt like i was being told it was all my fault. and i wanted to be better for him; i wanted to be better. i went to one session. i didn’t need to go again. i was going to be fine.

he didn’t care about my senior project--or at least it never felt like it. he sat outside and smoked cigars with his friend while the most important day of my college career was concluding. even his friend did more to help put together the final piece of my exhibit. i was hurt. i was upset. i was livid. we broke up. i think i screamed at him. we went to christmas together a few weeks later. i cried in his grandmother’s bathroom. i started visiting my mom’s grave--something i never did before.

i felt lost.

i met my second boyfriend a couple of months later, because i don’t know how to love myself without somebody else showing me that it’s possible. it was good. he was and still is such an amazing part of my life. he’s close enough to a soulmate as you can get, and i have little to say about our relationship as whole. i like to think it was largely good. we were together for five years. we’ve been living together for almost six.

i’ve always felt like identified as queer. i didn’t really know the details past the idea that i liked girls. like... really liked girls. as in, if i never got a chance to be a with a girl, i know i would die with regret. but this wasn’t a thing that was compatible with either of my relationships. and my first boyfriend came out as transgender, started to make changes in his life, wanted people to call him by a new name. i told him this during that time. he said “well if i make the transition, how does that make it different? i’m still a woman.” and i said it was different. and i hurt him, and i didn’t understand why. and i understand now, because it is amazing how much 10 years of social advancement can change a person’s outlook. i can say it would not make him any less valid, but i know it would probably still not be a proper fit for me. (and i use ‘he’, because he has remained cis as far as i know--we do not really talk anymore)

but again, being queer wasn’t compatible. my second boyfriend and i were monogamous with no potentinal to go poly, and that’s fine. i’m not sure either could handle that. but this was bothering me. a lot. it was affecting our bedroom life. severely. it wasn’t fair to him. and i was miserable. we would plan times to do stuff, and i would make sure to go bed hours after him. i had anxiety going to sleep in the same bed as him. i was a fucking disappointment. i couldn’t be what he needed in the relationship. what i should have been in the relationship.

then i found digimon was released on netflix.

wow, blast from the past. i loved the show as a teenager. shipped the hell out of daiken. oh wow, daiken i still really good. started reading fanfiction again. started drawing again. started writing again. found out one of my friends from my role playing forum loves them too. we became close. role played daiken, drew daiken, wrote daiken. obsessed with daiken.

what if they had to deal with their sexuality? had to worry about coming out? how would they handle it in a situation that could feel so fucking helpless?

you know... like mine.

i knew my relationship had to end, i just didn’t know how. i talked about it initially. “listen, i’m bi.” “oh, i didn’t know it was that serious. i just thought you also liked women.” i don’t understand. i don’t understand how to be bisexual because i want to be with a woman, but i like being with him.

friends tell me they had no idea. tell me that maybe i just don’t know what i want. that there’s not that much of a difference and i’m not missing anything. i have other friends cheering for me. i have no idea what to do.

i write about daisuke going through this. my obsession increases. i haven’t been this depressed since high school. i feel like a shell of person sitting at work. i draw daisuke on scrap paper everywhere because he’s my anchor. he’s going through what i’m going through. we’re on our second daiken role play, and i can’t stop thinking about it. i can’t stop thinking about them. i read more fanfiction--they’re happy there. i can be happy too.

we continue in our relationship for a few more months. our fifth anniversary rolls around. i’m self harming again and he won’t know because we don’t really undress in front of each other anymore. i’m pretty sure i cried that night as we try to be intimate. i just can’t. i feel awful.

we get through his birthday. we make it to march and we have the talk. i steel myself. i try not to cry, because strong people don’t cry. i say how it is. that yeah, this isn’t going to work. and i know inside, i’m was always too much of a coward to start this conversation, even though i had known for years it was going to happen--needed to happen. but it’s harder when you don’t hate the person you’re with, that you still love them on a deep level, but know that a romantic relationship won’t work anymore. eventually seeing him cry makes me cry too, and i think we hug. i’m not sure. we still need to live together.

the guest room turns into his room.

i write about daisuke and ken breaking up. i write about them moving on. about them being friends, or trying to be friends, after losing the best thing that has probably ever happened to them. the best relationship they could ever have, but had one thing that wedged them apart. i get comments from strangers that it sounds realistic, that they can sympathize, and it means a lot because it’s my life. they are my life.

i meet my girlfriend through daiken. i’m happy. i create less. i don’t need daiken as much anymore. but i’m not healed. i still don’t know who i am. i have less faith in myself, in relationships. i’m just not good at this, i’m not good for her. i’m this broken fucked up person that doesn’t know how to deal with emotions, because i never really learned how to. anger is easier than depression, and i’m so afraid of being mad that i am constantly hiding from her.

but she’s stronger than she appears, and i always forget. but i still tell myself she’s fragile. the dynamic is different than what i’m used to. i don’t know what to do with it. i don’t know how to deal with anything anymore, and i still don’t feel like i’m good enough. there’s other things of course, because there’s always more to a story when it comes to relationships. but something isn’t right with myself.

i watch attack on titan. i go to japan and discover eruri. i’m already struggling with how i feel about where i’m at romantically. i fill the void with fanfiction, info gathering, doujinshi. i want to get my mind off of it. i want to feel invested in something that isn’t my shit fucking existence. remove myself from some charade i’m trying to play, and see it being done “right”. it makes me feel happy, or at least gives me the illusion of it.

but i can’t run from things forever. we break-up, and i feel like i should feel more. but i’ve padded all those feelings down with obsession, that it stings a bit less. that i know on the other side of this conversation will be unrest, but at least i have a way of feeling better. and i’m sorry if you’re reading this, because i did love you, and you were way too good to me when i never deserved it. i could just never be what you deserved.

and that’s where i’m at now. where i can’t stop with this obsession. it’s been so strong for four of five months... and i feel like it’s a decent excuse that “hey, at least i’m creating a lot”. and yes, that’s good, but i’m clamming up again. i don’t know how to talk to people. i feel like i’m in a constant haze. this shit is all i want to talk about, it’s all i want to do, because it makes me feel good.

eruri doesn’t need to hide who they are or what they’re sexuality is. that doesn’t matter to them. i’m past that now. but they’re in a world where romance is dangerous, that they can’t have these feelings at risk of damaging themselves or the other. and that appeals to me now, because i feel like i don’t belong in one anymore. and i want to explore it--write about it--figure that shit out.

but it’s obsession.

and my friends are rolling their eyes at me.

and i’ve never actually felt so ashamed of who i am or how i deal with things.

i don’t know what i’m doing. what i’m trying to cover. i don’t know if i’m depressed, but i guess i don’t feel happy either. but i don’t know when i was really happy, or if it’s a feeling that ever really matters to have. my nihilistic point of view is humorous, but there’s a very serious backing to it. i just don’t fucking see the point, i guess. not that i’m going to empty a bottle down my throat anymore, but i don’t know...

i don’t know know what i’m trying to say, and i wrote a shit load to get here without any actual substance. i guess i just needed to get it out so i feel less bad about myself. i just wish i wasn’t like this sometimes. and i’m usually ok with my interests and stuff, but i feel so isolated...

god whatever. this is whiney and fucking stupid. end

#ack misses livejournal #ack rambles

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