(no subject)

[icarus_chained]

I'd like to preface this by saying nobody panic. I'm not sure what this is, but it's quiet, and calm, and I don't think I'm going to do anything stupid out of it. In fact, I'm rather sure I'm not. Just to keep in mind, yes?

I'm calm. I don't think I've been this calm in weeks. Months. Quite possibly years, though it's hard to tell at the minute. It's all gone a bit ... remote. Certainly I don't remember being this calm. Then again, my memory over the past two years (more?) has not been the best, so perhaps that's not exactly reliable.

I'm not sure what brought it on. I have a feeling it's possibly artifical, but it's hard to tell, and harder to care. As far as I know, all I did was go sit on a riverbank with a bag of jellies and cry for a while. I sort of thought it takes a bit more than that, to get this sort of ... calm. Actually, I've been considering that. Not seriously. Idly. Wondering. Drinking does it for some people, right? Or drugs. I'm not sure which. Never tried either. Never wanted to. *wrinkles nose* Distaste for the thought, perhaps mild fear. Consequences, yes? I don't like the thought.

You ever go someplace high? Climb something, a tree, a wall, a mountain, a cliff. Stand at the top. Behind the railings, holding on to the branches, sitting on the rocks. Looking down. And ... wondering. What it would be like, to let go, step out. Just let go.

I have. Since I was a child, I've done that. Just ... wondered. What it would be like. Just for those seconds before the ground hits. Even felt it once, though that was decidedly an accident, when I fell off a wall. I ... floated. Bit like now, I think. Just ... disconnected. Seemed like hours, though it had to have about two seconds in reality. I only woke up after I hit the ground. Didn't even feel the impact. I've always thought that was strange.

Every time I go someplace high. There's terror, and curiosity. Icarus, chained. What would it be like? Just for those few seconds, to fly? I've stood looking over the railings in shopping centers, on the balcony at the bookshop, on the cliffs in nan's, on bridges, rooftops, stairwells, trees, walls. And just ... wondered. Every time. I've never done it. Never ever done it. Because I know what the consequences would be, and I'm not stupid. But ...

I'm sort of wondering, right now, if I've just gone and done just that, somewhere internal. It feels like it did, when I fell that time. Floating. Distant. Curious. Like I can turn over the sensation inside, poke at it, see what it does. Turn over other sensations, too. The past few weeks, months, years. The fear. The pieces, all jaggedy and sharp. Just ... poke at them. And wonder.

I don't think I can do this.

*mouth quirks* Odd to say that. Taboo, really. Whatever else you say, you mustn't say that. You mustn't let people see. However afraid and hurt and angry you are, my dear, you must not let people see. This is the first of all rules.

I'm not sure why, though. I know it's important, but I don't think I ever explained why to myself.

I have a feeling there's something under the calm, right now. It keeps bubbling up a bit, at thoughts like that. Oddly enough, it feels more like anger than fear. Which is strange. I don't ever get angry. People get hurt if you let yourself be angry. You say things, and they're never the right things, and they never make anything better, and as soon as you get angry at someone, you invite them to get angry back, and everyone else is so much better at being angry than I am. Honestly, it's just inviting trouble.

*frowns some* I'm not sure what this is. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. I've let go of something, and like standing on the cliff, rationally speaking that can't be a good idea. However, I haven't felt this calm in years. Whether it's artifical, ro healthy, or not, it's hard not to be grateful, right now, that at least I'm not afraid at the minute. At least it's not fear. I've no idea how long it plans to last, but I'm grateful, right now, for the space of it. The quiet. I feel ... all scoured out and oddly clean. I can't help but like it.

I don't think I can do this. I'm repeating myself, but I think ... I think that's the thought that switched this on. Sitting there. Watching the leaves. Feeling myself cry. It's odd, but I don't make noise when I cry like that. It's just tears. Silent. I prefer that. It's cleaner, less ugly than when I have to make a noise.

I can't do this. Not as I am now. I can't get up, I can't do the work, I can't think. I can't put on a normal face and be okay. I'm not okay.

I realise I'm probably the only who didn't know this up to now. I mean, I knew it, but ... If you're good enough to pretend, however badly, then you're good enough to actually be. That was the idea, I think. I've always pretended to be normal. What more was pretending to be fine on top of it?

Not my brightest idea, I do realise.

I don't know how long this will last. This quiet inside me. It's probably artifical. That's why I'm writing this down now, so that when fear or reality taps me on the shoulder again, at least I can look back over this. Possibly give it to someone. I'm seeing the counsellor tomorrow. I should probably give her this, yes?

Okay. Important points, then, while this lasts:

I'm not okay. Duh. But ... I'm really not okay. I have a feeling I'm not doing essays and stuff ... well, some of me is wondering if that's like little letting-gos. Little cliffs. There is a degree of peace in realising that you don't have to worry, because you've already failed. And yes, there is something badly wrong with that. Strange kind of drug. Maybe I should have gone with alcohol, like normal people?

That aside ... I can't do the work. I can make it to lectures, though occasionally only barely, and I can ... take in the info, though ... it's easy, so easy to get confused these days. Things aren't ... connecting properly. Things ... float. It's all very hazy, up here in my head. Though I'm not sure how much of that, right this minute, is the fact that I appear to be floating anyway. And there's the fear, when I'm not like this. That can't be helping.

I think, and this is rather embarrassing, even floating as much as I am, that I'm afraid of people. As in, completely. Any and all of them. I think I'm utterly terrified. People explode, did you know that? Or at least, that's what it looks like to me. I can't see what's going on with them, you see. Utter blanks. I know there are reasons they do the things they do, but I can't see them. Everything they do or say is a complete surprise.

Not normally, I think. I hope, anyway. When I'm not ... whatever I've been for the past couple of years, I hope they make at least some sense.

It's like living in a world of bombs. That's just words, though. I don't suppose they help. But it is. Fear crawling up inside me, carving my head out, just because there are people near. And worse, when I have to interact. When I have to touch them. Because otherwise, they're just exploding for their own reasons, but when I have to be real to them, then they're exploding because of me.

Of course, there's always the chance that they're not going to explode, I realise that, but I can't know that, I can't see that, and I won't see it coming if I'm wrong, until it hits.

I don't like being afraid. *blinks some* I don't suppose anyone does, though, so maybe that's beside the point.

Point. Right. Which was. Um.

I'm not okay. I don't know what to do. I keeping thinkings things. I want to be outside my head. Outside my fear. Sort of like I am now, though it's ... there are things under this, and perhaps sooner than I hoped they'll catch back up again, but while I'm here ... I don't want to try other ways. I want the results but not the costs. That's why every time I think of them, wonder, standing on a cliff, I don't let go. I've had a lot of thoughts, the past two years. Some worse than others, some wonderings that would have worse conseqences than others. I haven't let go. I can't.

There are times, though, when I really want to. But then, I've been not letting go since I was very small. I'm good at it.

I wonder if I can replicate this, next time? I don't know how it happened, though. Seriously. Riverbank, jellies, crying. Not a lot to go on.

Or maybe it really was just the thought.

I'm not okay. And, oddly enough, the fact that I'm not okay might be okay. Not as a longterm thing, mind, just ... It might be okay to say to myself, I'm not okay. It might ... be okay to say it to other people, too.

Given the fact that most people I know ain't stupid, and probably figured that out LONG before I did. *mouth quirks*

I don't know what to do with that. As soon as I start to think about ... consequences, I suppose ... I'm gonna start panicking again, and I want to be calm a little longer. I want to hold on to this a little longer. Maybe I'll try putting myself to sleep. Be dreaming when the floaty things land back down, at least.

I can't do this. As I am now, I can't function. I can't go to college and expect to ... I don't know. I can't do essays without a spiral of fear and then the little snap when I let go. Exams ... actually may be better. I don't know. I'm not sure how much of this is simply the fact that I spent the past two years have a long, slow falling apart, and I simply can't remember how to do them anymore. Some of it is definitely the looking at people afterwards, and having them know you failed. At least with exams, they usually happen at the end of something, and you don't have to look at people the next day.

Yes, I am aware that most of this is not exactly logical. That annoys me. However, I can't make it not be true. Not ...

Ah, shit. It's slipping. Not thinking about this. Not thinking about this. Lalalala. I can't think about what I can't do without panicking and ... I'm not trying to make excuses. At least, I don't think I am, but ...

Oh, this is why I want to be out of my head! Stopping now. Getting shower, maybe food, sleep, if the world is at all kind. I don't want to be awake when this hits back in.

I'm not okay. I don't know how to make myself be okay.

I want ... I guess I sort of want it to be okay that I'm not okay. That I want ... to let go. Let someone else do the panicking for once. One way or another.

And I want not to feel so desperately guilty for wanting that. But then, that never did work for me.

I'm gonna go distract myself for a while, now. I'll print this tomorrow. Show someone. Maybe. Hopefully.

Um. Yes.