I might have screwed up. I might have made a lot of mistakes. I might be using the word might a lot, because I'm afraid to admit that I'm not the great person I thought I was. But at least I can feel confident in admitting the fact. It takes guts to admit mistakes. It takes more guts to admit it to another, and drop yourself at their feet. Yes, I'm weak right now. But take that weakness and turn it into more art. Create to fill the gaps. And maybe someone will find joy in your creations. And write lots of poetry. And weird, short story metaphors. And then hope someone will read them and maybe like the idea or feeling of them. And then set them to music. And then be a closet super-star. And be awesome.
Here's some stuff, you can read them, or just stop at closet super-star. ;)
THE GREAT PRETENDER:
Welcome.
Come in.
Inhale your surroundings.
The master of abstract.
I am everything and nothing.
I exist to mimic all of life.
You may know me as the Pretender.
I am the great Immortal
You will never find me.
You will never beat me.
You will never kill me.
Immortal, is I.
And immortal I will stay.
There is an immortal for you.
But you must give away everything.
Immortal is not wanted.
Immortal is my life.
And my life is not wanted.
I AM THE VILLAIN OF THIS STORY:
Come, take a look, and see me for who I truly am. I am the one who hides inside a shell of all things good. I am the person I never admit to being. I am the truest truth of my soul. I am the villain of this story. It takes much to admit villainy. You see, the world teaches us to look for the good in people, but for once I ask you to judge me by all the bad I've done. My evil is spread far and wide. Once I let it loose, there is no going back. I burned all my bridges, hell, I burned everything through and through to the ashes. I spend my spare time using what's left of my emotions to burn all the good away from me. The only winner there will ever be is me. Every failure or setback just becomes another cog in the clock of my master plan. The only defeat of me, is if I surrender. Now I ask of you, open your eyes, look for me around you, for I am not in just one, I am in every one. I ask of you, take one moment to look at the world around you, but this time, search for the villains. They are there. The villains lead to the true destiny of each human soul. One can do much good, but if the villain inside of them is strong, they fade away. I am the villain of THIS story, but I don't have to be of yours.
~M.B.~
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Take a Glimpse in My Mind
{Note: }
This has been sitting as a draft, for like a month now. I think I couldn't decide how I wanted to wrap it all up at the end, and looking at it again, I'm faced with the same issue. So I'm just gonna put this out there, and sorry that it randomly ends.
My mind is so weird. And my thoughts are so distorted. So I decided to give you a glimpse into the mind of depression. And whatever other things have negatively impacted the way I think. If you are interested in psychology, which is essentially study of how humans think, you may find this somewhat interesting.
Most often I find myself in a place where I actually believe that I am not loved or cared about by anybody. I find that the people I call 'friends' are rather acquaintances. I am jealous of the friendships that I see others have. I see myself in this pit of utter despair, with the constant feeling that nobody is there for me to help me work through my emotions. I am well aware all of the time that I am chronically depressed, so there is no issue with denial. Rather I feel that there isn't anybody out there who I feel a connection to, that I would trust with all of my deepest feelings, that actually wants to listen to me and help me through my especially bad days. In a deeper context, I often find myself saying to me, "People are always talking about that one person in their life that was always there for them, but you know that you have nobody. There is nobody there to wrap their arms around you and say, 'I'm here for you, and I want to let you know you are not alone, and that I want to help you.'" I feel that nobody knows me like I know me. I know exactly how to help my depression, but I can't do anything about it, because it's not something that I have any control over. I can see myself reaching out through social media. There's this little hope that maybe someone will hear my plea, recognize it, and then I'll have the illusive medicine I'm looking for. And sometimes I get so frustrated at past friends I've had. I got close to them, trusted them with some of my feelings, and then, one day, they dropped out of all contact with me. This constant cycle of betrayals, has left me to feel that I can't reach out to someone. They have to reach out to me. Otherwise, I may be too much for them, and they will leave, causing me much hurt and anger.
When I come back and look at my feelings with a clear mind, I see that some thoughts are a bit illogical. There are people in my life who care, they just might not express it. But that bothersome thought remains. I know how to help myself, but there's actually nothing that I can do. I can attempt to throw out a hint here and there, but not much more, otherwise, I may end up with another betrayal.
An interesting oddity in my thought process, is I have discovered that some people that I don't know that well, I will naturally trust them because they remind me of a fictional character from a book or TV show from my childhood. There are quite a few people that I have trusted in the past because they reminded me of Ginny Weasley. And I'm sure there are many more that I haven't identified the character yet.
Back to the subject, it really comes down to feeling that nobody cares enough to have noticed the signs that are common in a depressed person. I have gotten to the point of openly admitting it, and treating it almost in the way I treated coming out. Taking the stance of knowing about it, and not being afraid of it, or telling others about it.
I often look up articles on dealing with depression, and I'll often find myself reading articles on how to help a friend/family member who has depression. As I read through it, it hurts me even more that no one seems to realize that I'm hitting most of the symptoms:
- doesn't seem to care about anything anymore
- has lost interest in work, hobbies, and other pleasurable activities
- talks about feeling 'helpless' or 'hopeless'
- expresses a bleak or negative outlook on life
- complains of feeling tired and drained all the time
- has withdrawn from friends, family, and other social activities
- sleeps less than usual or oversleeps
- thoughts of death
And it is more hurtful to read what someone is supposed to do to help a depressed person, knowing that a person like this is exactly what would set you on course to getting help, given that I oddly trust them of course. I know that there is no way that I could beat the weird, illogical part of my head on my own. I suppose there is some need for friendship or companionship programmed into every human being. And when that it non-existent, you start to slowly, unknowingly, drive yourself insane. I have felt true insanity before. At a point, I decided I didn't need human friends, so I threw my entire life into music. After a few months, I realized that my social skills were decreasing, and everything that defined me as a person was starting to slowly disappear. I was becoming some sort of vessel for the music. And then I realized that I was going mad. And so I stopped. But I learned that one cannot just throw themselves at one of their passionate hobbies in life, or else one will stop being a person.
~M.B.~
This has been sitting as a draft, for like a month now. I think I couldn't decide how I wanted to wrap it all up at the end, and looking at it again, I'm faced with the same issue. So I'm just gonna put this out there, and sorry that it randomly ends.
My mind is so weird. And my thoughts are so distorted. So I decided to give you a glimpse into the mind of depression. And whatever other things have negatively impacted the way I think. If you are interested in psychology, which is essentially study of how humans think, you may find this somewhat interesting.
Most often I find myself in a place where I actually believe that I am not loved or cared about by anybody. I find that the people I call 'friends' are rather acquaintances. I am jealous of the friendships that I see others have. I see myself in this pit of utter despair, with the constant feeling that nobody is there for me to help me work through my emotions. I am well aware all of the time that I am chronically depressed, so there is no issue with denial. Rather I feel that there isn't anybody out there who I feel a connection to, that I would trust with all of my deepest feelings, that actually wants to listen to me and help me through my especially bad days. In a deeper context, I often find myself saying to me, "People are always talking about that one person in their life that was always there for them, but you know that you have nobody. There is nobody there to wrap their arms around you and say, 'I'm here for you, and I want to let you know you are not alone, and that I want to help you.'" I feel that nobody knows me like I know me. I know exactly how to help my depression, but I can't do anything about it, because it's not something that I have any control over. I can see myself reaching out through social media. There's this little hope that maybe someone will hear my plea, recognize it, and then I'll have the illusive medicine I'm looking for. And sometimes I get so frustrated at past friends I've had. I got close to them, trusted them with some of my feelings, and then, one day, they dropped out of all contact with me. This constant cycle of betrayals, has left me to feel that I can't reach out to someone. They have to reach out to me. Otherwise, I may be too much for them, and they will leave, causing me much hurt and anger.
When I come back and look at my feelings with a clear mind, I see that some thoughts are a bit illogical. There are people in my life who care, they just might not express it. But that bothersome thought remains. I know how to help myself, but there's actually nothing that I can do. I can attempt to throw out a hint here and there, but not much more, otherwise, I may end up with another betrayal.
An interesting oddity in my thought process, is I have discovered that some people that I don't know that well, I will naturally trust them because they remind me of a fictional character from a book or TV show from my childhood. There are quite a few people that I have trusted in the past because they reminded me of Ginny Weasley. And I'm sure there are many more that I haven't identified the character yet.
Back to the subject, it really comes down to feeling that nobody cares enough to have noticed the signs that are common in a depressed person. I have gotten to the point of openly admitting it, and treating it almost in the way I treated coming out. Taking the stance of knowing about it, and not being afraid of it, or telling others about it.
I often look up articles on dealing with depression, and I'll often find myself reading articles on how to help a friend/family member who has depression. As I read through it, it hurts me even more that no one seems to realize that I'm hitting most of the symptoms:
- doesn't seem to care about anything anymore
- has lost interest in work, hobbies, and other pleasurable activities
- talks about feeling 'helpless' or 'hopeless'
- expresses a bleak or negative outlook on life
- complains of feeling tired and drained all the time
- has withdrawn from friends, family, and other social activities
- sleeps less than usual or oversleeps
- thoughts of death
And it is more hurtful to read what someone is supposed to do to help a depressed person, knowing that a person like this is exactly what would set you on course to getting help, given that I oddly trust them of course. I know that there is no way that I could beat the weird, illogical part of my head on my own. I suppose there is some need for friendship or companionship programmed into every human being. And when that it non-existent, you start to slowly, unknowingly, drive yourself insane. I have felt true insanity before. At a point, I decided I didn't need human friends, so I threw my entire life into music. After a few months, I realized that my social skills were decreasing, and everything that defined me as a person was starting to slowly disappear. I was becoming some sort of vessel for the music. And then I realized that I was going mad. And so I stopped. But I learned that one cannot just throw themselves at one of their passionate hobbies in life, or else one will stop being a person.
~M.B.~
Sunday, April 12, 2015
The Ultimatum
There's been something that I can't get off of my mind recently. I keep thinking about last October. The pain. Parent vs. offspring. Me vs. them.
Why couldn't I have just been normal? Why did I have to be the different one? But I didn't want to live in a closet of lies, denying who I could be. I could have let myself be doomed to a life of loneliness, a life full of bad friends long gone, leaving behind holes for the depression to creep in. But I decided to be that different speck. I was going to stand up for what I wanted to believe in. I didn't want others telling me what I should want to do. It was hard. So hard. Being brave is certainly not the easy choice. They fought back. They forced their rules onto my life harder than ever. I found temporary ways to escape them. But I knew I needed something more. Something to scare them off my trail. I needed an Ultimatum.
Anyways, I really like to write in metaphors. Let me explain this in normal terms, not therapeutic metaphorical elegance:
In August I finally told my parents that I was totally, completely gay and didn't want to be in their church anymore. They got SUPER ticked at me, and forced more rules on me than ever. I found ways to avoid them, I took really long jogs, and took a temporary job so I could be busy at work on Sundays. But I decided I needed a more permanent solution, so I forced an ultimatum in front of them. I told them that my life was hell following all of their rules, and I would much rather be dead, if that would mean my freedom. I told them that I would commit suicide in the next 2 weeks if they didn't give me my religious freedom. In a few days, they caved.
I just can't help but be both scared and proud of what I did. I'm scared that I hit a point in my life that I was ready to die, and ready to do something about it. But at the same time, I'm proud that I fought my own personal war for religious freedom. I must say though, the best thing I found through this was hope. Even though I suffer from chronic depression, I know that however I feel about life right now, at least I don't feel as terrible as I did. I feel myself thinking what the next 3 1/2 years will bring. I find myself coming up with 9 instances in those past years I've wanted to die. But I haven't yet, so that's something.
I'm sure depression will finally take me in the end, but let's see if I can contribute something to the betterment of humanity before that happens.
(Note: I am kind of crazy. But don't you dare send me to a therapist. I've discovered a strange condition in which I am a shark. That also sounds crazy. But, no, I'm a business shark with therapists. I twist the truth and put whatever spin I want to on the situation. I'm very, very good at it.)
Why couldn't I have just been normal? Why did I have to be the different one? But I didn't want to live in a closet of lies, denying who I could be. I could have let myself be doomed to a life of loneliness, a life full of bad friends long gone, leaving behind holes for the depression to creep in. But I decided to be that different speck. I was going to stand up for what I wanted to believe in. I didn't want others telling me what I should want to do. It was hard. So hard. Being brave is certainly not the easy choice. They fought back. They forced their rules onto my life harder than ever. I found temporary ways to escape them. But I knew I needed something more. Something to scare them off my trail. I needed an Ultimatum.
Anyways, I really like to write in metaphors. Let me explain this in normal terms, not therapeutic metaphorical elegance:
In August I finally told my parents that I was totally, completely gay and didn't want to be in their church anymore. They got SUPER ticked at me, and forced more rules on me than ever. I found ways to avoid them, I took really long jogs, and took a temporary job so I could be busy at work on Sundays. But I decided I needed a more permanent solution, so I forced an ultimatum in front of them. I told them that my life was hell following all of their rules, and I would much rather be dead, if that would mean my freedom. I told them that I would commit suicide in the next 2 weeks if they didn't give me my religious freedom. In a few days, they caved.
I just can't help but be both scared and proud of what I did. I'm scared that I hit a point in my life that I was ready to die, and ready to do something about it. But at the same time, I'm proud that I fought my own personal war for religious freedom. I must say though, the best thing I found through this was hope. Even though I suffer from chronic depression, I know that however I feel about life right now, at least I don't feel as terrible as I did. I feel myself thinking what the next 3 1/2 years will bring. I find myself coming up with 9 instances in those past years I've wanted to die. But I haven't yet, so that's something.
I'm sure depression will finally take me in the end, but let's see if I can contribute something to the betterment of humanity before that happens.
(Note: I am kind of crazy. But don't you dare send me to a therapist. I've discovered a strange condition in which I am a shark. That also sounds crazy. But, no, I'm a business shark with therapists. I twist the truth and put whatever spin I want to on the situation. I'm very, very good at it.)
Saturday, March 21, 2015
The Hole
I am currently suffering from a severe condition known as anima foraminis. I fit all the symptoms perfectly: depression, very few friends, even fewer friends that will actually spend time with you, feeling that happiness is hopeless, etc. This condition is otherwise known as a hole in a person's soul. For some strange reason, humans are wired to need love and companionship. And when that is gone from a person's life, something very interesting happens. Suddenly, that person feels that all of life is hopeless, and that nothing will make them feel better. Some people might classify this condition as depression, but I know that my condition has more to it. When I am depressed, I often find that I don't know why. But with anima foraminis, I know exactly why my life feels broken. I am literally lost and left to die in a giant hole in the ground. Some might consider a hole in the ground of large proportions to be a cave, but if that is what this is, all of it's beauty has been vandalized or stolen. Hold on a moment, I feel that this current style of writing may not bring to you the retrospect of what has been happening in The Hole recently. I take you now to a more intriguing style...
The Hole, Entry 1
I feel that it is about time that I started to record the events that have been happening down here lately. But first, let me start from the very beginning. One day, I was walking through a beautiful meadow. As I was walking up a hill, with the intention of seeing the beautiful view below me, I suddenly fell through some sort of sinkhole in the ground! I fell quite a long way, enough that getting back out was impossible. It was a pensive moment, seeing the beautiful blue sky up above me, and knowing that the warmth of the sun was there, but yet the hole was so deep that it couldn't reach me. And also knowing that the hill was out there, I had gotten so close to reaching the top, but suddenly, it was stolen from me. Many months passed, and the hole continued to grow bigger, reaching further and further under the hill. I have continued to explore each path, becoming more and more desperate for the warmth of the sun. I have met many odd, yet foul creatures along the way. But just yesterday, I glimpsed a small ray of sunlight along this very tunnel. When I reached it, it disappeared, but I saw it again, further away. I can only hope that chasing it will lead to something more than just another hole of foul beasts.
The Hole, Entry 2
Today was a most amazing day! I started off continuing to follow the light down the tunnel, when I finally reached a dead end. I was unsure of where to go next, so I began to look around me for anywhere that the light could have possibly escaped to. My eyes happened to be drawn to the ceiling. I couldn't quite reach it, so I took some dirt that was lying in a pile nearby. I built up a sort of mound that I could stand on, and examined the ceiling closer. I could see that there was some sort of symbol with some odd phrases of ancient script written around it. The script read, "Si vis salvari, tantum opus porrige manum tuam." As I looked closer, I saw a smaller script below it that read, "Amor et ecce sanavi te". As I read both scripts aloud something very odd happened. For a moment, I felt nothing, but in the next moment there was a ray of sunlight shining on me. Suddenly, I felt warmth all around me. I looked up to see where the light was coming from, but I found that the ceiling with the inscriptions had disappeared into the light. As I was looking up, I saw a hand reach down towards me, and I heard a voice say, "Come with me, I want to help you." I grabbed onto the hand, and it pulled me through the light. It felt like an eternity before I finally felt my feet touch the ground again. I found myself in another tunnel, but this one was different. I could feel moss beneath my feet, and when I looked around me, I could see mushrooms and other small vegetation growing along the edges and corners. When I looked above me, I saw glowing orbs with wings in every color you could imagine. The entire event was quite exhausting, so I must get my rest for now, but I am truly excited to begin discovering what this new tunnel has to offer in the next few days.
The Hole, Entry 3
At the beginning of this day I awoke to someone shaking me awake. When I opened my eyes, I found a woman in front of me. She told me her name was Эмили. She told me that she was the mysterious person who pulled me up through the light. She gathered some mushrooms to feast on, then sat with me and we talked. She asked me what it was like on the 'lower level'. I tried to tell her of the terrors that I experienced, but I found myself wandering in conversation. How could I talk about such terrible things when I was in good place now? She offered me some valuable advice on places to go and what to do to survive on this 'level'. We made some more conversation, and after awhile, she told me that she had other things she had to get on to, but, as she left, she gave me a gold token, about the size of my palm. Before she headed off, she said, "If you ever need me, just run your fingers over the script on the coin, and I will make the time to find you." I noticed that the script was the same as the subscript I had seen on the mysterious ceiling: "Amor et ecce sanavi te". I waved goodbye, as she walked off along the tunnel, and was soon hidden by a curve of the walls.
Today has been a very good day, and I only hope that they will improve. I am excited, for there must be much to discover. If I could find Эмили, there must be others around here as well. I only hope that I can manage to find them.
I feel that this writing style was certainly more interesting to you, the reader. Here you see the true insanity of my mind. Instead of writing things plainly, I prefer to hide what really happened in layers of metaphors and mystery. Maybe I shall consider this work as my first ongoing short story. I only hope that the character in this story finds happiness rather than tragedy in the end. And that mysterious Эмили. I wonder if she will hold to her word? And why do all the inscriptions have to be in different language? What they really say must mean something to the author. I've heard rumors that the author doesn't know what will happen next. Like this story is based her life or something. And her name is April Stormcloud. Like is that even a real name? I suppose that the future of this story rests literally in the future. Only time will tell what happens next.
A note from the author, April Stormcloud:
Thank you so much for reading my short story, The Hole. I hope that you continue to come back, awaiting the next installment of the thrilling story! Keep the reviews coming, and maybe you'll influence me enough to write your ideas in. I look forward to seeing both this story, and my fanbase grow. I hope my stories leave you feeling both satisfied, and full of questions at the same time. 'Til next time! ~A.S.~
~M.B.~
The Hole, Entry 1
I feel that it is about time that I started to record the events that have been happening down here lately. But first, let me start from the very beginning. One day, I was walking through a beautiful meadow. As I was walking up a hill, with the intention of seeing the beautiful view below me, I suddenly fell through some sort of sinkhole in the ground! I fell quite a long way, enough that getting back out was impossible. It was a pensive moment, seeing the beautiful blue sky up above me, and knowing that the warmth of the sun was there, but yet the hole was so deep that it couldn't reach me. And also knowing that the hill was out there, I had gotten so close to reaching the top, but suddenly, it was stolen from me. Many months passed, and the hole continued to grow bigger, reaching further and further under the hill. I have continued to explore each path, becoming more and more desperate for the warmth of the sun. I have met many odd, yet foul creatures along the way. But just yesterday, I glimpsed a small ray of sunlight along this very tunnel. When I reached it, it disappeared, but I saw it again, further away. I can only hope that chasing it will lead to something more than just another hole of foul beasts.
The Hole, Entry 2
Today was a most amazing day! I started off continuing to follow the light down the tunnel, when I finally reached a dead end. I was unsure of where to go next, so I began to look around me for anywhere that the light could have possibly escaped to. My eyes happened to be drawn to the ceiling. I couldn't quite reach it, so I took some dirt that was lying in a pile nearby. I built up a sort of mound that I could stand on, and examined the ceiling closer. I could see that there was some sort of symbol with some odd phrases of ancient script written around it. The script read, "Si vis salvari, tantum opus porrige manum tuam." As I looked closer, I saw a smaller script below it that read, "Amor et ecce sanavi te". As I read both scripts aloud something very odd happened. For a moment, I felt nothing, but in the next moment there was a ray of sunlight shining on me. Suddenly, I felt warmth all around me. I looked up to see where the light was coming from, but I found that the ceiling with the inscriptions had disappeared into the light. As I was looking up, I saw a hand reach down towards me, and I heard a voice say, "Come with me, I want to help you." I grabbed onto the hand, and it pulled me through the light. It felt like an eternity before I finally felt my feet touch the ground again. I found myself in another tunnel, but this one was different. I could feel moss beneath my feet, and when I looked around me, I could see mushrooms and other small vegetation growing along the edges and corners. When I looked above me, I saw glowing orbs with wings in every color you could imagine. The entire event was quite exhausting, so I must get my rest for now, but I am truly excited to begin discovering what this new tunnel has to offer in the next few days.
The Hole, Entry 3
At the beginning of this day I awoke to someone shaking me awake. When I opened my eyes, I found a woman in front of me. She told me her name was Эмили. She told me that she was the mysterious person who pulled me up through the light. She gathered some mushrooms to feast on, then sat with me and we talked. She asked me what it was like on the 'lower level'. I tried to tell her of the terrors that I experienced, but I found myself wandering in conversation. How could I talk about such terrible things when I was in good place now? She offered me some valuable advice on places to go and what to do to survive on this 'level'. We made some more conversation, and after awhile, she told me that she had other things she had to get on to, but, as she left, she gave me a gold token, about the size of my palm. Before she headed off, she said, "If you ever need me, just run your fingers over the script on the coin, and I will make the time to find you." I noticed that the script was the same as the subscript I had seen on the mysterious ceiling: "Amor et ecce sanavi te". I waved goodbye, as she walked off along the tunnel, and was soon hidden by a curve of the walls.
Today has been a very good day, and I only hope that they will improve. I am excited, for there must be much to discover. If I could find Эмили, there must be others around here as well. I only hope that I can manage to find them.
I feel that this writing style was certainly more interesting to you, the reader. Here you see the true insanity of my mind. Instead of writing things plainly, I prefer to hide what really happened in layers of metaphors and mystery. Maybe I shall consider this work as my first ongoing short story. I only hope that the character in this story finds happiness rather than tragedy in the end. And that mysterious Эмили. I wonder if she will hold to her word? And why do all the inscriptions have to be in different language? What they really say must mean something to the author. I've heard rumors that the author doesn't know what will happen next. Like this story is based her life or something. And her name is April Stormcloud. Like is that even a real name? I suppose that the future of this story rests literally in the future. Only time will tell what happens next.
A note from the author, April Stormcloud:
Thank you so much for reading my short story, The Hole. I hope that you continue to come back, awaiting the next installment of the thrilling story! Keep the reviews coming, and maybe you'll influence me enough to write your ideas in. I look forward to seeing both this story, and my fanbase grow. I hope my stories leave you feeling both satisfied, and full of questions at the same time. 'Til next time! ~A.S.~
~M.B.~
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
My Story (Part 2)
My last chronicle in what I am calling 'My Story' was all about the event that started it all. The day my best friend died. http://hrmmmgrermmblerg.blogspot.com/2013/12/my-story-part-1.html
It's been about a year since I wrote that. So many things have changed since then. I've gone through so much depression, and I've gone pretty close to suicide. I guess you could call this what happened this year. But not in a things sense, rather in an emotional sense. Sometimes I need a place to get out my thoughts before I forget them. That's what this blog is for. I am confident enough to expose emotional times when I was at a point of weakness to whoever is willing to read them. And that's fine. That leaves less to hide.
Life was really depressing this past year. January through May I threw myself at stress. I didn't know how to deal with my depression, but I realized that if I kept myself very busy, then I could just forget about it. So I did shows. I did two shows during that time, one which I stage managed. I found that stress made me happy in a weird way. When I was stressed about my show, there were so many things that needed to be done in a certain time frame constantly running through my mind. That left no thinking time for depression. It was a temporary solution.
During March through May I started to discover something new about myself. Something that I had always known about, but never realized exactly what it was. I realized I was gay. It took me a few months to accept. I was scared. I was in a community and a family that weren't particularly friendly towards anyone LGBT. I got so scared that I tried going to a friend that I thought I trusted. I was very wrong about her. She tried to un-gay me. I went along with it for a few week, but I felt so lonely. It didn't feel right to fight against my attractions. It feels so utterly lonely to know that you have no future. That you will forever be alone. There will be no one ever there to help you through all of your hard times and always be your best friend. It was the worst feeling in the world. I eventually decided that I was going to follow my heart, no matter what this 'friend' said. She wasn't me, so there was no possible way that she could understand me, let alone try to tell me what was right for me.
Over the summer I started to gain more confidence in my new found identity. I didn't feel quite as depressed as I did through the first half of the year, but something didn't quite feel right. As the months led into July, I realized that the problem was religion. I was part of a church that was outright against gays and the LGBT community. I was also part of a church that was against feminism, and all for gender stereotyping. I didn't want to be a part of it anymore. In August, I finally told my parents what I thought of the church they had raised me in and they freaked out and got really, really mad at me. For the next few weeks, they forced me to go to their church meetings with them, and constantly pestered me to go through the motions that everyone does in their church to gain back their faith. In September I got a job at Wendy's. I hated that job so much, and going into it, I knew that I would hate it, but I needed a job that would force me to work on Sundays. School was not much better. I was forced to go to a seminary that was only shoving the church into my face even more. My friends weren't much better. Any one of them that I talked to about it would stop talking to me for anywhere from a few days to a week, and then would eventually say something along the lines of, "I think I'm ready to accept your decision, but please remember that the church is always here to welcome you back. I think you really belong here." Like I needed their 'approval'. And I most certainly don't want people preaching to me. I just simply don't want to be a part of a church that doesn't support who I am, or the community of people like me. We're just a bit different. That's all. Still normal people in here.
In October, I finally went off the deep end. My parents and friends were making my life a veritable hell. I wanted to escape, but didn't know how. I started to make plans. Plans to go down to the Frontrunner tracks and wait for a train to come. But not at a station. A train like the Frontrunner can get going up to speeds of around 75 or 80 mph. And it takes an entire mile to stop. That would be enough, right? But I got a bit scared. Toying with these feelings felt dangerous. So late one night I reached out to someone. And that person reached out to my parents. And so they found out. But it turned out to be good. I went to a therapist, where I discovered that I was showing some symptoms of anxiety. Which made sense. But I found I could use that to pin an excuse on why I hated my parents' church. I could blame it on the church members in our area. It wasn't a complete lie, some of it was true. My parents couldn't accept the fact that I was gay. They thought that it was just a phase. They wouldn't believe me. They thought that I was just being a 'rebellious teenager'. It all worked out okay. But I was really depressed. So what did I do? I threw myself into two shows at the same time.
November felt a bit better than October. I took a couple trips to visit people. I got to play video games with an old friend of mine. I also got to visit San Francisco. I figured that I needed things in my life to look forward to. I got to be a part of an amazing community show, which really made me happy. I would say that it was the first time in many, many months. I met so many great people. It was amazing to find a pocket of such nice, happy, talented people that weren't a part of the church that hurt me so much. I could start to see an end to suffering under people who didn't believe in my religious freedom.
December was my best month of the year. I quit a job that I realized was making really unhappy due to complaining so much about my boss. I also finally figured things out with my school so that I could do classes online and graduate early. I knew that I needed to get away from my parents as soon as possible. I started to see outside of the 'Utah bubble'. I started to realize that if I wanted a future in film and TV, I should go somewhere that is rich in opportunities. I did some research, and I am now planning on moving to Burbank, CA in the fall. And I am going to make it happen. I can't live with these crazy people anymore. So crazy that it took the threat of suicide to get them to actually listen to me.
It's been a year full of so many ups and downs. But I feel so much more free. I feel like life is just starting to work out for me. I'm going to pursue things that I want to do. I'm so glad that I'm still alive. I owe everything to the friend that pulled me out. I wouldn't have the hopes and dreams that I do now if it wasn't for her. My friends may be few, but they listen to me, support me, and really genuinely care about what happens to me. I don't understand why they stick with me, but it's sure nice to know that someone is there to talk me through my hard emotional times. For such a long time I felt a hole inside of me. My best friend had died, and for a long time there was no one to take that place. But back in August I found people to fill that hole. And it feels so good to be complete again.
"Oh, it's time to start living, time to take a little from this world we're given. Time to take time 'cause spring will turn to fall. In just no time at all."
"No day but today."
~M.B.~
It's been about a year since I wrote that. So many things have changed since then. I've gone through so much depression, and I've gone pretty close to suicide. I guess you could call this what happened this year. But not in a things sense, rather in an emotional sense. Sometimes I need a place to get out my thoughts before I forget them. That's what this blog is for. I am confident enough to expose emotional times when I was at a point of weakness to whoever is willing to read them. And that's fine. That leaves less to hide.
Life was really depressing this past year. January through May I threw myself at stress. I didn't know how to deal with my depression, but I realized that if I kept myself very busy, then I could just forget about it. So I did shows. I did two shows during that time, one which I stage managed. I found that stress made me happy in a weird way. When I was stressed about my show, there were so many things that needed to be done in a certain time frame constantly running through my mind. That left no thinking time for depression. It was a temporary solution.
During March through May I started to discover something new about myself. Something that I had always known about, but never realized exactly what it was. I realized I was gay. It took me a few months to accept. I was scared. I was in a community and a family that weren't particularly friendly towards anyone LGBT. I got so scared that I tried going to a friend that I thought I trusted. I was very wrong about her. She tried to un-gay me. I went along with it for a few week, but I felt so lonely. It didn't feel right to fight against my attractions. It feels so utterly lonely to know that you have no future. That you will forever be alone. There will be no one ever there to help you through all of your hard times and always be your best friend. It was the worst feeling in the world. I eventually decided that I was going to follow my heart, no matter what this 'friend' said. She wasn't me, so there was no possible way that she could understand me, let alone try to tell me what was right for me.
Over the summer I started to gain more confidence in my new found identity. I didn't feel quite as depressed as I did through the first half of the year, but something didn't quite feel right. As the months led into July, I realized that the problem was religion. I was part of a church that was outright against gays and the LGBT community. I was also part of a church that was against feminism, and all for gender stereotyping. I didn't want to be a part of it anymore. In August, I finally told my parents what I thought of the church they had raised me in and they freaked out and got really, really mad at me. For the next few weeks, they forced me to go to their church meetings with them, and constantly pestered me to go through the motions that everyone does in their church to gain back their faith. In September I got a job at Wendy's. I hated that job so much, and going into it, I knew that I would hate it, but I needed a job that would force me to work on Sundays. School was not much better. I was forced to go to a seminary that was only shoving the church into my face even more. My friends weren't much better. Any one of them that I talked to about it would stop talking to me for anywhere from a few days to a week, and then would eventually say something along the lines of, "I think I'm ready to accept your decision, but please remember that the church is always here to welcome you back. I think you really belong here." Like I needed their 'approval'. And I most certainly don't want people preaching to me. I just simply don't want to be a part of a church that doesn't support who I am, or the community of people like me. We're just a bit different. That's all. Still normal people in here.
In October, I finally went off the deep end. My parents and friends were making my life a veritable hell. I wanted to escape, but didn't know how. I started to make plans. Plans to go down to the Frontrunner tracks and wait for a train to come. But not at a station. A train like the Frontrunner can get going up to speeds of around 75 or 80 mph. And it takes an entire mile to stop. That would be enough, right? But I got a bit scared. Toying with these feelings felt dangerous. So late one night I reached out to someone. And that person reached out to my parents. And so they found out. But it turned out to be good. I went to a therapist, where I discovered that I was showing some symptoms of anxiety. Which made sense. But I found I could use that to pin an excuse on why I hated my parents' church. I could blame it on the church members in our area. It wasn't a complete lie, some of it was true. My parents couldn't accept the fact that I was gay. They thought that it was just a phase. They wouldn't believe me. They thought that I was just being a 'rebellious teenager'. It all worked out okay. But I was really depressed. So what did I do? I threw myself into two shows at the same time.
November felt a bit better than October. I took a couple trips to visit people. I got to play video games with an old friend of mine. I also got to visit San Francisco. I figured that I needed things in my life to look forward to. I got to be a part of an amazing community show, which really made me happy. I would say that it was the first time in many, many months. I met so many great people. It was amazing to find a pocket of such nice, happy, talented people that weren't a part of the church that hurt me so much. I could start to see an end to suffering under people who didn't believe in my religious freedom.
December was my best month of the year. I quit a job that I realized was making really unhappy due to complaining so much about my boss. I also finally figured things out with my school so that I could do classes online and graduate early. I knew that I needed to get away from my parents as soon as possible. I started to see outside of the 'Utah bubble'. I started to realize that if I wanted a future in film and TV, I should go somewhere that is rich in opportunities. I did some research, and I am now planning on moving to Burbank, CA in the fall. And I am going to make it happen. I can't live with these crazy people anymore. So crazy that it took the threat of suicide to get them to actually listen to me.
It's been a year full of so many ups and downs. But I feel so much more free. I feel like life is just starting to work out for me. I'm going to pursue things that I want to do. I'm so glad that I'm still alive. I owe everything to the friend that pulled me out. I wouldn't have the hopes and dreams that I do now if it wasn't for her. My friends may be few, but they listen to me, support me, and really genuinely care about what happens to me. I don't understand why they stick with me, but it's sure nice to know that someone is there to talk me through my hard emotional times. For such a long time I felt a hole inside of me. My best friend had died, and for a long time there was no one to take that place. But back in August I found people to fill that hole. And it feels so good to be complete again.
"Oh, it's time to start living, time to take a little from this world we're given. Time to take time 'cause spring will turn to fall. In just no time at all."
"No day but today."
~M.B.~
Monday, November 3, 2014
It Got Lost
I stumbled across some music today that got lost. I completely forgot that I owned it. I randomly ran into it on an old playlist. It's been a really long time since I listened to it. Approximately 1.5 years. This music is leaking out old memories. No wonder I let it get lost. I can remember listening to this during a drive to California. I did a lot of thinking on that drive. I can feel the hurt that I felt on a road trip to visit Disneyland 2 weeks after my best friend died. I deposited so much pain and despair into the melody of this music. So many feelings that I buried deep are suddenly resurfaced. I'm shaking because it hurts so much. But this is what I do. When people go away, I just slowly forget them. Forget their voice. Forget their personality. Forget their memory. They'll just disappear into some archive in my mind never to be dusted off again. Except by music. For some reason I tend to release emotions into music. And then I never listen to that music again. A new song just came up on this album. I'm now remembering that summer. Full of dangerous scooter rides. And many, many visits to the cemetery. Without the music, these memories are gone. I have erased all links to them. So that even if I somehow got into a conversation with someone about cemeteries, this memory wouldn't come to mind. The memories are so strong. As if they didn't have a year of dust on them. I wonder....if this music came on in a store, or on the radio, would I stay to listen? Or would I shut out the pain? So many days sitting in the grass by that one grave. That one evening I tried to read a book to it, but getting bit my mosquitoes all over instead. But now that I know how I've been coping with such a painful event in my life, how will I use this? Maybe I'll visit these memories more often. Whatever is going on in them, something is unresolved there. Or else I wouldn't have shut it out to such an extent. Even though that pain has been shut out, it must still be hurting my life. And I should find a way to stop that pain. I'm sure that I'll think of something. I always do. Despite how bad my bouts of depression got last year, I always found a solution. And when I'm having a hard time seeing a solution in sight, somehow, there are always people around to help pull me back out of the ditch I dig for myself. They pull me out and convince me that I can find a way. They give me hope when I can't find it myself. And to these people, I owe everything. Because they have given me everything. Someday I will find who I truly am. Because I don't have a personality. I adjust it differently to each person that I talk to. Someday I will find which personality is mine. Someday I will stop locking up my emotions. I have a very hard time crying. My body physically stops me. But I'm still crying inside. Where did that notion in my head that emotion shows weakness come from? Because it is hurting me. Music is somehow the key to all of this. I need to re-explore all these lost memories. There's something in there that needs to be found.
~M.B.~
~M.B.~
Saturday, October 4, 2014
What is Religion, Really?
I've really been thinking and compiling my thoughts recently on religion. I had an epiphany a few days ago. Religion hits the core emotions that every human goes through. Let me extrapolate:
Religion is human. Religion is people wanting to believe that there is an all-powerful being that will love them and help them with their problems.
People are scared. They are afraid that they will get hurt, or something will come along and destroy everything that they have made for themselves. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will protect them if they pray right, or perform the right rituals.
People don't know what will come of their life. They don't know what direction they should take in their life. They don't know what will happen when they die. They don't know where they came from. They need to believe that there is a heaven/hell when they die. They need to believe that a supernatural being in the sky has their life planned out for them.
People want to be loved. It is human instinct to want to be loved and accepted by as many people as possible. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will love them no matter what.
People are afraid of messing up. They want to be perfect. They feel like when they do something to hurt someone, they need to feel like they can redeem themselves. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will forgive them and make everything right again.
People have problems. Hard things happen in everyone's lives. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will help them solve all of their problems.
What I'm getting at is that religion is people. It is so human. It is formed by human emotions and needs. Humanity still has the same needs that it had hundreds of years ago. That's why religion still hasn't faded. Humans will still be humans. They will still have the same problems, just in different contexts. Religion is humanity.
Religion is powerful. If you believe enough in something, your brain will make it become real to you. If you convince yourself that you will feel a certain way after doing a ritual, then you actually will feel something. Many people have psychology healed themselves just through placebo effect. I think that people really misjudge and miscalculate just how powerful your brain is. If you believe strongly enough that rubbing watermelon all over your skin will help your flu get better, it actually will. Brains make connections with things that don't exist. If you think that the local newspaper is hiding a conspiracy in code in one of the articles, then you will find that your brain is finding many secret conspiracy messages in just an innocent newspaper. Belief drives your brain. Belief becomes stronger with more people. Religion is just belief playing games with your brain. Many religions have a large community. They all pressure you to believe strongly in their doctrines. You start to believe, since logic says, "If so many people believe in that one thing, then it must be real!" But people can't be trusted. People follow their emotions. People are making assumptions. People don't actually know what's really out there. People don't know if there really are supernatural beings in the sky. People love to believe. It fulfills their worries. They can feel safe. I prefer not to put my trust in something that doesn't exist outside of everyone's brains.
I get scared sometimes. Something terrible might happen to me, or people close to me. But I am facing my fears. I'm not trying to hide my worries with some supposed supernatural being in the sky. I am facing my problems head-on. I am finding ways to cope.
I don't know what will happen in my life. But I know what I'm interested in. I have a pretty good idea of fun things that I want to reach for in my life. I have decided that I'm not going to let a non-existent supernatural being in the sky tell me where I should move to. I have decided that I'm not going to let people who think that their religion knows where and what I need to do take over my life. I am going to follow my dreams, and if I end up living on a park bench eating out of dumpsters, at least I tried. It's better to try and fail, than to never try at all.
I don't know what happens after I die. I also don't know if I came from another life before this. I figure that I'll worry about dying when it comes. I might not even have time to think when it comes.
I want to be loved. Every human is born with the want to be loved. But I have found that I have some very good people in my life. They love and accept me for who I am. I trust them. And if they turn around and hurt me back, it'll hurt, but what's life without a little hurt? I'll eventually get over with it and move on. Life is full of setbacks, but I can decide to slap those setbacks in the face.
I'm a bit afraid of messing up. I worry sometimes about if something I said came off as a bit offensive to someone. I worry if my attempt at a joke was a bit mean. I worry if my anxiety came off as self-centered. But I have to stop being afraid. No human can be perfect. No one. People will mess up. People will hurt other people. It's only human. I'll stop worrying and move on. I won't dwell on those thoughts. All it does is cause me to convince myself that I'm a bad person. And that is poison to anybody's soul.
I have problems. Heck, everybody does. I have so many huge problems happening in my life. And I encounter so many little, almost petty ones, throughout each day. But I need to learn to deal with them myself. No one is going to magically take away my mental disorders. I have to cope. No one is going to magically make me do better on that math test. I have to make that happen. No one is going to make money or food magically appear on my doorstep. I have to go get my own money and food. I have to make things happen myself. I have to deal with things myself. And I can choose to slap them in the face.
I just want anyone is curious about me to know that I don't need religion in my life. I know that my life is hard, and I have realized that no supernatural being in the sky is the answer to everything. I have to face hard. And I certainly don't like to trust in things that don't exist. But, I am not slamming any of your religions. I am open to learning. I will probably say, "Hmmm, that's interesting." or "That's a fascinating idea." or "I'm glad that you've found something to put your heart and soul into." Really, I am happy for all of you that have found a religion that rings true to you. If you preach about it to me, I'll still be nice. I will try as hard as I can to politely decline you, or politely leave the conversation when things get a little too political for me.
I am very open-minded. It's just that religion isn't for me. Religion was never meant to be for everyone. It has never been an absolute requirement for living a life. I have a right to live a life the way that I truly desire. I'm not trying to be rebellious. I'm just trying to find me. I know that there is still more of me hiding deep down somewhere, just waiting to be found. And I'm going to find it.
~M.B.~
Religion is human. Religion is people wanting to believe that there is an all-powerful being that will love them and help them with their problems.
People are scared. They are afraid that they will get hurt, or something will come along and destroy everything that they have made for themselves. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will protect them if they pray right, or perform the right rituals.
People don't know what will come of their life. They don't know what direction they should take in their life. They don't know what will happen when they die. They don't know where they came from. They need to believe that there is a heaven/hell when they die. They need to believe that a supernatural being in the sky has their life planned out for them.
People want to be loved. It is human instinct to want to be loved and accepted by as many people as possible. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will love them no matter what.
People are afraid of messing up. They want to be perfect. They feel like when they do something to hurt someone, they need to feel like they can redeem themselves. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will forgive them and make everything right again.
People have problems. Hard things happen in everyone's lives. They need to believe that there is a supernatural being in the sky that will help them solve all of their problems.
What I'm getting at is that religion is people. It is so human. It is formed by human emotions and needs. Humanity still has the same needs that it had hundreds of years ago. That's why religion still hasn't faded. Humans will still be humans. They will still have the same problems, just in different contexts. Religion is humanity.
Religion is powerful. If you believe enough in something, your brain will make it become real to you. If you convince yourself that you will feel a certain way after doing a ritual, then you actually will feel something. Many people have psychology healed themselves just through placebo effect. I think that people really misjudge and miscalculate just how powerful your brain is. If you believe strongly enough that rubbing watermelon all over your skin will help your flu get better, it actually will. Brains make connections with things that don't exist. If you think that the local newspaper is hiding a conspiracy in code in one of the articles, then you will find that your brain is finding many secret conspiracy messages in just an innocent newspaper. Belief drives your brain. Belief becomes stronger with more people. Religion is just belief playing games with your brain. Many religions have a large community. They all pressure you to believe strongly in their doctrines. You start to believe, since logic says, "If so many people believe in that one thing, then it must be real!" But people can't be trusted. People follow their emotions. People are making assumptions. People don't actually know what's really out there. People don't know if there really are supernatural beings in the sky. People love to believe. It fulfills their worries. They can feel safe. I prefer not to put my trust in something that doesn't exist outside of everyone's brains.
I get scared sometimes. Something terrible might happen to me, or people close to me. But I am facing my fears. I'm not trying to hide my worries with some supposed supernatural being in the sky. I am facing my problems head-on. I am finding ways to cope.
I don't know what will happen in my life. But I know what I'm interested in. I have a pretty good idea of fun things that I want to reach for in my life. I have decided that I'm not going to let a non-existent supernatural being in the sky tell me where I should move to. I have decided that I'm not going to let people who think that their religion knows where and what I need to do take over my life. I am going to follow my dreams, and if I end up living on a park bench eating out of dumpsters, at least I tried. It's better to try and fail, than to never try at all.
I don't know what happens after I die. I also don't know if I came from another life before this. I figure that I'll worry about dying when it comes. I might not even have time to think when it comes.
I want to be loved. Every human is born with the want to be loved. But I have found that I have some very good people in my life. They love and accept me for who I am. I trust them. And if they turn around and hurt me back, it'll hurt, but what's life without a little hurt? I'll eventually get over with it and move on. Life is full of setbacks, but I can decide to slap those setbacks in the face.
I'm a bit afraid of messing up. I worry sometimes about if something I said came off as a bit offensive to someone. I worry if my attempt at a joke was a bit mean. I worry if my anxiety came off as self-centered. But I have to stop being afraid. No human can be perfect. No one. People will mess up. People will hurt other people. It's only human. I'll stop worrying and move on. I won't dwell on those thoughts. All it does is cause me to convince myself that I'm a bad person. And that is poison to anybody's soul.
I have problems. Heck, everybody does. I have so many huge problems happening in my life. And I encounter so many little, almost petty ones, throughout each day. But I need to learn to deal with them myself. No one is going to magically take away my mental disorders. I have to cope. No one is going to magically make me do better on that math test. I have to make that happen. No one is going to make money or food magically appear on my doorstep. I have to go get my own money and food. I have to make things happen myself. I have to deal with things myself. And I can choose to slap them in the face.
I just want anyone is curious about me to know that I don't need religion in my life. I know that my life is hard, and I have realized that no supernatural being in the sky is the answer to everything. I have to face hard. And I certainly don't like to trust in things that don't exist. But, I am not slamming any of your religions. I am open to learning. I will probably say, "Hmmm, that's interesting." or "That's a fascinating idea." or "I'm glad that you've found something to put your heart and soul into." Really, I am happy for all of you that have found a religion that rings true to you. If you preach about it to me, I'll still be nice. I will try as hard as I can to politely decline you, or politely leave the conversation when things get a little too political for me.
I am very open-minded. It's just that religion isn't for me. Religion was never meant to be for everyone. It has never been an absolute requirement for living a life. I have a right to live a life the way that I truly desire. I'm not trying to be rebellious. I'm just trying to find me. I know that there is still more of me hiding deep down somewhere, just waiting to be found. And I'm going to find it.
~M.B.~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)