Leave me alone August 31, 2007

I’m tired. I’m shaken. I see that I can’t do this anymore.

What’s ‘this’?

This thing of waiting. Waiting forever, waiting for time to reverse itself, waiting for a second chance.

Because I’ll never ever get it. I’ll never ever win. How can one conceivably win a one-sided war, a battle made for one and one alone? It’s insane and maybe that’s what I really am.

Yeah, whatever. I should just shut up and quite whining, even if this is my damn blog.

And still it resounds in my soul: he’s happy anyway.

And strangely enough, I want to tell her I’m sorry for everything. I know I’ll never get that chance while I’m alive. So here it is: I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. There.

Good to know that I’m not yet a cold, heartless bitch. Though I am no good at anything now. I have to learn to apply myself. I have to. It’s the only way out of this hole. What am I good at? My friend says I’m good at breaking hearts.

That’s not something I would want to be. And besides, it can’t be a profession. Ugh. I hate myself.

Lost August 27, 2007

I’m broken. I’ve sunk into depression again. I’ve got no motivation, no drive and basically I just don’t think I can make it.

If not med school, then what?

I’ve centered my life on this so much so that I am left with no options if I don’t make it. It’s a blank slate for me. I’ve got nowhere to turn. I’ve got nowhere to go. What will I do then? Nothing. Die, probably.

I don’t know what to do anymore.

Dialogues August 25, 2007

‘It’s going nowhere,’ I tell you.

“You’re right… nowhere…” you say.

“…but I kind of like nowhere,” you add after a moment’s pause.

‘I kind of like nowhere too…’

Translucent August 23, 2007

“you are my sweetest downfall.”

You are that which I cannot speak of.

You are unnameable.

You are forever.

You are the refuge of a forlorn soul on a windy day, the calm in the seas after the storm.

Maybe I need you today.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d find a star to remember me by.

(I’m fighting the urge to scream your name and write it on my skin; fighting the feeling of wanting to let the world know the beauty of what transpired; fighting wanting to be with you again.)

A Diary of Hate August 18, 2007

I hate how I used to know everything and now know nothing about you.

I hate how I used to be your everything and now am nothing to you.

I hate this. I hate it.

I hate you. I hate how you make me feel. I hate how you made me feel.

I hate your absence. I hate how you left. I hate everything about you that is gone and unreachable now. I hate you. I hate this.

But is it really you that I hate? “Or some other that is yet to be revealed to me?”

Can I really hate you? Why should I hate you? I was the one who turned away from you. But I was not the one who made the choice, the choice was predestined. It was prechosen by some unnameable Other. And perhaps it is that which I hate and not you. I can never hate you. Who am I kidding? You? Whom I would give my life and soul to? How could I? I was just ranting. I can never hate you. I, instead, hate that Other. I hate something which I do not know of. Some unnameable force which compelled me to seek a way to justify this: to be parted from you forever.

Do you remember when we first met? el mundo era más joven cuando tenía pasado previsto esta separación.

Instability August 16, 2007

I must forget how you reach out and grasp my soul and take it in your hands. I must forget how you take my entire being in you and make it whole. I must forget you. I must forget how it feels to wait for you. I must forgo the sensation of your heart in my hands; the feeling of certainty in your arms, whether my soul is laid bare or not. I must forget how I weather the storms of my salvation at your fingertips and how I subject myself to your whims and fancies and how I like it. I must forget you. I must. For there is no point in living a life like this anymore. There is no point in grasping each day as if there is hope of your return when you were never really there to begin with. I must forget the way you smell, and how that smell reaches down and touches the crevices of my senses. I must forget the whining misery I feel at your absence and the life I feel when you are around. I must forget how you make me feel like today is the last day of the world and the world consists of you and I alone. I must forget the way you touch me deep inside where it matters, how my heart trembles at your passing, at your arrival. I must forget how you make me feel alive and worthy of this profession. I must forget the way you ascertain all the edges of my being to be yours. I must forget the little inkling of doubt that you wash away with each wave of concern and compassion. And I remember you most when it rains. I like the rain, and it makes me feel like the sky is weeping for my troubles as much as I am. I must forget the recurrent tensions between you and I. I must forget the passing of the sun and moon at our disposal. I must forgo all thought of you and all of you from now on. There is nothing for me here. Nothing left of me and nothing left for me to hold on to. And yet my stubborn soul refuses to believe in a day without you. For it has found its chosen companion and it is whole in you. And yet it cannot be with you. Like night and day we are. Together forever and yet forever apart, touching only in the flimsy fingers of dusk and dawn. To forget you, I must forget the beauty of dusk and dawn and it is too much. Must I live my life like this? Must I subject myself to this eternal torment? My mind says no, but I am a being of suffering. I have lived my life in what others choose to label eternal torment and so be it. But I will forget you- I must. And though it will take all of me and whatever is left of me, I swear to God, I will. This is a diary of Hate.

Blank August 13, 2007

The unnameable hunger seeps in through my skin,

Eats me up,

Tears me apart,

Screams for justice

In the crevices of a long-forgotten room in my soul

Where I ought not to stray-

Oh but I do.

Today, I do.

And it scares me to think about it, to go there again, to face the evils that I have left behind. But today I am brave and I feel like taking a walk.

And the hunger calls to me.

And I yearn to touch it, to feel it.

And the crimson line lulls me to sleep as the ebony arrows of my misery sling me to depart:

I imagine the line, sweet line.

I cannot have you once more,

Unless I want more of this:

A drugged prison of which I cannot feel a thing and all things rage within me

Find no real culmination in anything worthy of the outside world.

I am numb, and restless, and painless.

I am here and there is passion like red-hot flames too quickly tempered and cooled before I can

Glimpse, or touch or feel or hold.

I am numb and blunt and sacred.

Paranoia August 9, 2007

I.don’t.know.what.to.study.

There’s too much scattered material everywhere.

Is this medical school? Exam after exam, not knowing which books to pick up?

I can’t wait to get to the Musculoskeletal module. That’s when I’ll know that I’ll be living intimately with my Grant’s Atlas and Moore’s Anatomy 24/7.

On a side note, my Topamax was increased to 50mg as of last Tuesday to control my angry outbursts. I do get extremely angry at times, which I try my best to contain, but it gets in the way of my studying. I can’t concentrate so well with all those disastrous thoughts in my head. At times, I just want to ruin whatever I can get my hands on and the usual victim is my hair- which I pull and pull or I punch my thighs or really dig my nails into my face. I just.get.really.really.pissed.at.the.fuckin.world.

So far, my hands and feet are tingling. I don’t know yet if this is a side effect of it. I don’t feel particularly stupid-yet.