Soujin (
psalm_onethirtyone) wrote2005-12-14 11:05 pm
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"Denmark is Still..."
...My 'people, augh' is starting to kick in worse than usual. I do not want to talk. I just want to hide in my room.
(But I do want to thank everybody who commented on my last post. She was actually very nice about it. Except that she isn't going to have any help that entire month, she let me know, because Karen's getting surgery, so it's just me and her, except it's just her, because I called off augh augh augh augh I am a bad person.)
I do not want to be here. I do not want to-morrow.
...
...I won't get to bed until about two to-night. And I have to be up at seven. Damn. That wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to be on top of things to-day.
I just want to go away, by now. And I wish I weren't getting evaluated for the meds after Christmas--I have a feeling that Christmas is going to be a nightmare.
(Why can't I save the world?)
But earlier to-day I was laughing.
My world is not in the order I want, and I had better go and start working on things now, or they won't get done, and I won't sleep at all.
I think--this is where extra guilt comes in, I suppose--I think I would feel better if I disappeared myself for a few days. But I can't. I don't have--and I can't--and I'm always so reproachful of myself for not being able to fix more things. And I'm so tired. But I can't do this any more, I can't just close windows, and I hate running out of time and I wish.
Why can I not make other people laugh?
Because you know what it is? I hate this. This residual sadness, this extra guilt? It's from not being able to help. It's from reading my flist every day and realising that there are so many people I love and I can't make them happy. No matter how much I'd give, no matter how much I pray, no matter how many wishes I make, no matter where, I can't change the world. I can't make things get better. I hate it. I want to make things better. I want my wanting to be enough. I want that I love so much to be enough to change things. I hate that it's not, and what I hate ends up being me, or if it doesn't it turns into scraps of being tired and being sad and not wanting to be, because I feel I'm failing people.
I wish I could fix. I wish I could help.
I love you, and you, and I love her, and I wish that I could do some thing. Sending letters isn't enough, saying I love you isn't enough, it doesn't change things.
I want to change things.
And I want to change bigger things. It hurts so much reading the newspaper that I've stopped. I've stopped reading Newsweek. I just feel worthless afterwards. I need a job so I have money to donate--there's my logic for the year. I have resolutions that are no good. I want to do something.
And wanting isn't enough. It's never enough. I don't want hard enough.
I have mushroom wishes and Helgafell wishes and stained-glass wishes and nativity creche wishes and I've wished more places than I can remember and I've tied my prayers up in brown paper and blue ribbon, and I've followed rules to make wishes, and I suppose I know well enough that my wishes aren't any good--
...now I want to sleep.
Now I need to do the things I need to do.
(But I do want to thank everybody who commented on my last post. She was actually very nice about it. Except that she isn't going to have any help that entire month, she let me know, because Karen's getting surgery, so it's just me and her, except it's just her, because I called off augh augh augh augh I am a bad person.)
I do not want to be here. I do not want to-morrow.
...
...I won't get to bed until about two to-night. And I have to be up at seven. Damn. That wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to be on top of things to-day.
I just want to go away, by now. And I wish I weren't getting evaluated for the meds after Christmas--I have a feeling that Christmas is going to be a nightmare.
(Why can't I save the world?)
But earlier to-day I was laughing.
My world is not in the order I want, and I had better go and start working on things now, or they won't get done, and I won't sleep at all.
I think--this is where extra guilt comes in, I suppose--I think I would feel better if I disappeared myself for a few days. But I can't. I don't have--and I can't--and I'm always so reproachful of myself for not being able to fix more things. And I'm so tired. But I can't do this any more, I can't just close windows, and I hate running out of time and I wish.
Why can I not make other people laugh?
Because you know what it is? I hate this. This residual sadness, this extra guilt? It's from not being able to help. It's from reading my flist every day and realising that there are so many people I love and I can't make them happy. No matter how much I'd give, no matter how much I pray, no matter how many wishes I make, no matter where, I can't change the world. I can't make things get better. I hate it. I want to make things better. I want my wanting to be enough. I want that I love so much to be enough to change things. I hate that it's not, and what I hate ends up being me, or if it doesn't it turns into scraps of being tired and being sad and not wanting to be, because I feel I'm failing people.
I wish I could fix. I wish I could help.
I love you, and you, and I love her, and I wish that I could do some thing. Sending letters isn't enough, saying I love you isn't enough, it doesn't change things.
I want to change things.
And I want to change bigger things. It hurts so much reading the newspaper that I've stopped. I've stopped reading Newsweek. I just feel worthless afterwards. I need a job so I have money to donate--there's my logic for the year. I have resolutions that are no good. I want to do something.
And wanting isn't enough. It's never enough. I don't want hard enough.
I have mushroom wishes and Helgafell wishes and stained-glass wishes and nativity creche wishes and I've wished more places than I can remember and I've tied my prayers up in brown paper and blue ribbon, and I've followed rules to make wishes, and I suppose I know well enough that my wishes aren't any good--
...now I want to sleep.
Now I need to do the things I need to do.
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Changing yourself starts with knowing yourself.
You make me happy, and you make me laugh. You make my day a little better knowing you're here, even if you're unhappy, because I'm selfish of your presence. Of course. =)
You can go in no direction from this place that I will not love you, but I suggest that you go in a direction that you will love yourself.
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And uggghhh I know what you mean about reading the newspaper. I feel horribly guilty because after the election I kind of stopped paying attention to politics, but it's because there isn't anything I can do and so waaah.
*hugs*
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And if you need to disappear for a few days, you should.
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Ew, newspapers. So horribly depressing.
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The smiles. The letters. The postcards. The dyed eggs. Little bags of lavendar tied with ribbon. The phone calls. The I love yous. The equallys. The words written in dust that take months to disappear. The ripped CDs. The typist notes. The photographs. The picspams. The ribbons. The glitter. The surprises.
The small things-- the small things that become large things because that's what small things do. And of course, there are the large things. Packages. Visits. I love yous-- for they shouldn't be under 'small things' at all. Smiles-- for neither should they.
You can't change the world-- not in any way that you think about. You can't snap your fingers and make things better, not like that. But you can't forget that just because you can't... it doesn't mean that you aren't changing anything. It doesn't mean that there isn't someone (or many someones, judging by your f-list) who smile a few times every day just because of you. Someone who gets a letter or an IM or-- or anything-- and is just a little happier, a little warmer inside. It happens. That's the sort of thing that always happens, and we don't even think about it that much. It's a lot more than it seems.
I think you underestimate what you do. I think you underestimate what you give. And I think you underestimate what you are. Of course, I can really only speak for myself, but. But you mean a lot to me and do a lot for me-- even when you're not trying to do anything.
I know you don't feel like it's enough, not for the world, and it may never feel like enough for the world-- the world's a big place, after all-- but it's a lot, Miss Soujin, and you should know that.
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i don't even know what i'm talking about, truth be told. but why do we say 'i love you,' if it doesn't change anything ...? if i had to define love, i would say it's what makes a person want to live. living isn't always happily ever after, but if you love, if you're loved -- there's something in the world that's worth it. there's something beautiful, something you don't want to lose. there's a girl whose voice makes me laugh with delight, who thinks of me and sends me shiny things, and the rest of the world hasn't changed, and yet --
yet.