Life and Other Shit #3

The car slowed upon nearing the bookstore, and she got out with meticulous coolness. She was so glad that Jon got rid of the Mercedes-Benz Roadster and replaced it with this nice and subtle used Corsa; Jon didn't like sitting in a cramped rickety car, but she knew that if they went around in something like a Roadster then they might as well just hand themselves over to Ajax, or what was left of him. She walked over to the bookstore, approaching four other boys who were standing by the door. She didn't expect this much of a turn up, especially as she didn't see anyone follow up the event online. Apparently they wanted to keep quiet about it, which was understandable. Now all she had to do was run in when the shop opened and grab one before anyone else did, but also without seeming like a crazy psycho lunatic. Shouldn't be too hard, she thought.

One of them was about her height. The way he spoke was brash and violent; he'd do anything to get his hands on that book, and he'd made a point of expressing that through a series of somewhat friendly threats to fight anyone who tried to grab it before he did. She didn't bother asking his name, but she decided that he looked like a Carl. The other was taller and skinnier with glasses. He had an enthusiastic personality, determined to get his hands on one of the copies. She decided that this one looked like a Thomas. Thomas tried to compete with Carl, saying that he'd be willing to go up against him to get that book. She looked to another much calmer guy standing next to her and said to him,

"And while they're fighting, I'll grab one of the books."

He agreed. Another boy was standing with the group, but split off once his friends had come to help him grab one. The group decided that this was cheating and made a quick treaty to work against him. This was almost perfect, she thought. There were three books, and three of them including herself were determined enough to get one. The boy standing next to her didn't look bothered enough about it, and the other was too distracted by his friends at the moment. Just as the door opened, they all ran in all at once. She didn't want to run. She didn't want to act like a crazy psycho lunatic, but seeing as everyone else was acting like a crazy psycho lunatic then she only thought it appropriate to do the same.

They got to the back of the store and Carl grabbed the first one, then exclaimed,

"There's another one!"

She saw Thomases' eyes searching from the corner of her vision, but she saw it and leaped in on the shelves, grabbing the book before Thomas had a chance to and he groaned in disdain. She was about to head for the counter when she realised that she said that she'd help find the others. Thomas eventually managed to grab the last copy and they all headed for the counter.

A while later she left the shop and entered the car, giving a quick sigh and smiled after slamming the door shut.

"Did you beat anyone up?" Jon asked.

"Not this time." She replied.

"Aw, what a spoil sport. Must have been no fun at all."

"Yeah, because we both know that you'd punch someone in the face even if you already had the book in your hands."

"Punching people is fun."

"Drive."

:)

I feel like such a fucking ass.

THIS SHIT IS FUCKED
ITS FUCKING NOT RIGHT.

I CAN'T FUCKING TELL ANYONE. MY MIND IS TRAPPING IT OFF. MY MOUTH IS FUCKING TAPED UP. I CAN'T FIND THE COURAGE TO JUST BLURT IT OUT.

First off I have this depersonalisation issue.
I can't feel my fucking arms.
They're not there.
My soul is trapped inside a fucking vessel and it tries to leave but it can't because I'm fucking trapped inside of it and there's nothing I can do except eventually snap out of the detachment and get on with the day. It's not fucking fair I tell you. If this ends up as Shamanic Illness I will not be happy. This is not something I need right now. I thought I went through all of the bad shit already, but it's there. My head is fucked up. It's all fucked. I'm so fucking fucked. FUCK.

Then secondly Devin breaks up with me. He loves me, he said. This is not a fucking forever break up, he said. He needs to fuck someone or some shit. He needs to hold hands with someone and kiss them so he can have the satisfaction OF FUCKING BEING WITH A REAL PERSON ON PLANET EARTH. IT DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING MATTER, HE DOESN'T READ THIS SHIT ANYMORE ANYWAY. IT DOESN'T EXIST. I NEED SOMEONE. I JUST NEED SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS. HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS, AND HE'S FUCKING GONE. THERE IS NOONE ELSE EXCEPT THE DAMN FUCKING SPIRITS. WHAT USE DOES THAT DO?!
THEYRE.
FUCKING.
SPIRITS.
FOR FUCK SAKE.

Then Mark thinks it's an amazing idea to text me saying we should be together because he's having his OWN FUCKING ISSUES WITH A BREAKUP. Just because he's comfortable with the idea of talking about our future kids and calling me Wifey (by the way, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT EVEN ABOUT?!), it doesn't mean I'm up for the idea. I fucking blocked all feelings of romance between us just because every fucking crush I've had on a best friend since I was born went PISS AWFUL. I don't even want to copy out all of the texts he sent me last night. I don't even care if it was a joke or not. It's fucking sick.
I feel so fucking sick.
I'm actually dizzy thinking about all of this.
I don't want to be going through this.
I'm not ready for another upheaval of bullshit like I went through in high school.

I just want to go back. I can handle a little bit of depersonalisation in the fingers or hands. But getting so detached to the point where my arms and body are in a state of nothingness, and getting so far away from reality that it's actually difficult to come back to my body to become human again? I can't fucking do that.
Being broken up with, but not being broken up with?? Remaining exactly how we were, without the label boyfriend/girlfriend. I feel like I can't even talk to him for that reason. I tried, but it was fucking me up. I'm still in shock, probably still in denial about it all. I want to cry so bad, I get so close to crying, but it's either the wrong place and wrong time to cry or the tears subside.

I can't think...

Time still fucking passes though... As if all of this shit isn't happening. I'm having my own personal struggle, and everyone else is going along their merry way. I need help, but there's no human on Earth I know except myself that can understand this fully.

My mind is so full, yet so empty.
My appetite is going zero miles per hour.
My soul and mind are fighting over my body.
Meanwhile my emotions are running rampant, sometimes so rampant that they go the speed of light and it seems like they're not there at all.

I think I'm fine again. It's the first time in a long time I've been like this.
But it's out. It's done.

I don't have to tell anyone.

I'm fine again.

Life and Other Shit #2

Scooping her tea up from the table, she began her ascent up the stairs, the events of a few moments ago drifting from her mind and with it being replaced with something rather uncomfortable. She could hear her younger sister laughing, the result of playing games online with her friends over Skype. This reminded her of when her and her now ex-boyfriend used to do the same; her mum would go on to tell her that she could always tell when they were talking to one another, laughing and joking. It was a happy memory, but it made her sad. It was only replaced by fleeting memories of them in conversation over the years. All happy memories, all made her feel like she wanted to smash her head against the wall until she forgot them.

Her ex broke up with her just a couple of days before, and she still couldn't find the courage nor the words to tell anyone but her best friend, Joe, whose girlfriend had broken up with him a week ago or so. She saw it coming for them, but never for a moment did she expect her own relationship to end. It's probably why she was feeling so detached from everything including her own body, she thought. As she came to the top of the stairs, she breathed a sigh of contempt at her brains ability to make her feel so crap, and placed the mug of tea on the vertical slat of the bed.

"Shut up." She said to herself monotonously, and dropped onto the bed.

He had told her that he still loved her, and that the only reason why he wanted the relationship to end was because he needed a physical relationship; they had been in a long distance relationship for a few years now. When he told her, she was in such a shock that she couldn't respond at all. She couldn't even cry (lord knows she wanted to, so much, but with his brilliant timing it was almost time for her to go downstairs for dinner with the family and she didn't much feel like explaining why she had bloodshot, red, puffy eyes, and a snotty nose). So she kept it all in for the duration of the conversation, and was still keeping it in apparently.

Her phone beeped... A text from Joe.

They had been texting for most of the day, over the last few days.

'I think me and you should get
together.. Just because we get
eachother 80% and the other
20% of the time we attempt
to understand each other. Our
babies would be so intelligent.'

"What the fuck?" She mumbled in sheer disbelief, "Is he being serious?"

She replied:
'Was that text meant for me, or
are you just joking?'

He replied:
'Yeah it was XD'

That didn't really answer whether he was joking or not, but she went along with it anyway. She wanted to know where the conversation would go, even though it all seemed so wrong and awkward from her end. They went on to talk about their 'future children', and things of similar context. He was obviously going through a tough time so she entertained the idea, for him. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought about being with him before, she just preferred to keep those thoughts blocked out or locked away where they wouldn't disturb her, as her past crushes on best friends always went terribly terribly wrong. So she had always kept her distance physically with him, keeping hugs and things of the like at a bare minimum.

It had worked so far. And now this shit was happening.

Life and other Shit #1

Her arms weren't there. Or rather, they weren't her arms. Or rather, she felt like they weren't her arms. In fact, it probably actually felt like her body was a vessel, in which her thoughts were just a clump of bubbles inside of her (or it). Her arms, or the vessels arms, were laid out on the dining table in front of her and she looked left and right several times. This was a familiar feeling, something she had only felt in her hands and fingers before. Something about depersonalisation, she thought to herself in remembrance. Eventually she decided to move her index fingers up and down, trying rather lazily to feel like this was actually her body and that she wasn't some poor soul trapped in a chamber. They were like mechanical hands, she thought, strings tethered from her fingertips to her brain as to control them... This was true, to an extent.

It was after this that she remembered that there was a chomped up piece of crumpet in her mouth. She started chewing at it, suddenly feeling like she didn't want it which was unusual since jammy crumpets were one of her favorite evening snacks. She felt it mush up in her mouth, swallowing some. Now she really didn't want any more. So she spit it all out on her plate... Delicious. This really wasn't helping whatever she was going through right now, so she decided to get up and wash the muck away in the sink, watching the gloop swirl around the plug hole. The whole palava really wasn't worth the heaving she felt she was about to endure.

She sat down at the table, looking at the freshly lain wallpaper on the wall. In that moment she felt like she was going to cry, and she wanted to. She wanted so badly to cry. So she closed her eyes and readied herself for the biggest sobbing of her life. But as she did, the tears that began to well subsided and a very small smile spread across her lips. That was the pattern over the last few days, almost like a rule; you have no time to cry, there's no point in it. So you can have a few seconds of potential tears and you're done, you hear me? At least, that what she assumed was going on in her brain. She didn't really understand it, but it always happened no matter how much she tried to let it all out.

"Crap." She announced to herself in a whisper, letting out a long and frustrated sigh, "Maybe next time."