SD
Every day is a fight

Ghost

Solomon’s song. Ever read that book? From Toni Morrison. I read it several years ago and it haunted me all those years til today. On weekend again those same conversations with my parents. It’s SICK how our family reminds me of the twisted relationships of people in that book. They had a major fight on Saturday. I saw red, I almost cracked and took a knife and stabbed them. It was SO DAMN CLOSE.

Only a small outbreak. Told my sister I’ll kill them all. Then it went over. Mom broke together and went upstairs to cry and I was the only one to go and comfort her. I did my very best to stay calm and out of the fight. It was nasty enough to hear mom yelling like a monster at everyone else. FUCKING SICK FAMILY. Well, I did my best to comfort mom and I got her to come downstairs to eat the cake etc., but I didn’t feel anything doing so. Absolutely nothing. Just acted like a robot, acted like mom waited me to act. I could have gone the nasty cold way and staid downstairs where my sis and dad had started to discuss geologic issues and laugh. Or just disappeared somewhere like my bro did. But, it’s MY DUTY to comfort mom and help her, whether I feel anything or not. The whole shit didn’t touch me much. I was close to explode cause fighting in common makes me cook up really fast, and I just couldn’t stand all the shit they said to each other. Just like when I still lived at home.

At all, I couldn’t care less about their stupid fights. I don’t give a fuck about if my sis and bro are insulting each other with every word they let out their mouths (that was the thing that ignited the powder keg), but what makes me freak out is that dad’s supporting my sis and mom is supporting my bro and then THEY fight like it was the WW3 going on and the world’s fate would hang on who wins that battle. They can’t talk. All they can do is brood and explode. And brood and explode. And so on. And every fucking time it’s MY GODDAMN DUTY to comfort them all after they break to whether cry or blaim everyone else, I have to listen to their worries and act like I care.

I have no connection to them anymore, and it’s not much of a secret why, if you’d see how it is everytime we are all together in one place. Fuck this shit, I don’t need this shit.

Oh well.. Yesterday I got a washing machine and microwave oven, and my dad and uncle were here to install the former. They needed a knife. Well, I only have one with catfood on it. But if I would have had the money last month I’d now own that one certain small Navy Seals knife.. I’ll get it. Will take some time, but I’ll get it. :)

I’m damn tired now. Mood is going up and down like crazy. And last night’s nightmare still makes me feel uncomfortable. Wanna hear? Skip the next if you are sensible against violence or ugly looking wounds!

[I don’t know how it began. It was in my old school once again, in the forests around it, there were strange tunnels and abandoned concrete buildings. A ship. Not even close to the real river. I lived on the ship. I didn’t go out much. Only to school yard. I stood in school yard in the same place where I always stood. I had no friends and no-one wanted to play with me so I just stood there and watched the others to play. Felt the fear and emptiness.

Then I went back to the ship after school, to the dusky dirty room where I got almost nothing to eat and sick people or junkies were populating the other rooms. One evening I cut my arm (which one was unclear, at some moments the cut was even on my face, beginning from forehead and going vertically down to chin) in very deep and broad wounds, a 5-7 letter word beginning with a small ‘a’. The same dull pain as always. Then I lit the wounds on fire like my blood would have been enriched with gasoline. They burned and it looked beautiful. It hurt, it burned me but the pain was still dull. I was emotionally totally numb, so close to the end that nothing mattered anymore. Just watched my arm burn.

It was scorched afterwards, naturally. Smelled. I felt nothing. Nothing. Faint pain somewhere where my soul used to be. Left the arm like it was and walked around in T-shirt and didn’t care anymore who would see the wounds. Think I had on the shirt with that gun… Like it very much. My parents came there. Dad went somewhere else, he saw me but didn’t say or do anything and just left. Mom stayed and did something with the other people there. She helped the children who didn’t get enough to eat or something. At some point I broke down completely. I went to “my corner” where I used to sleep, hunched in corner and cried.

And in that point mom came to me and started to comfort me and said she’d help me. LIKE I’D NEED TO FUCKING CRY TO GET FUCKING HELP. NO THANKS. In that dream I was so completely in the end that I accepted her help. Don’t think I’d do so in reality. They can watch me break, I don’t give a shit, but I’m not going to beg for anything!]

I’m close to emotional breakdown right now. I have enormous social stress, have slept way too less, depression is deep. I’d LOVE to just fly away, sail away to some better place. Somewhere where no pain exists. The void grows. Feels like there’s just darkness inside of me. Where did all my strength go? Where did my future disappear? More than ever I wish I could just hide somewhere, in alcohol, in drugs, in forest, become nothing. Not really die. But… Go away.

Therefore, I’m ghost. I am not. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I’m too tired for that, too tired to keep the food plan, candy doesn’t taste, can’t eat wheat products anymore, each spoonful yoghurt is so difficult to swallow. I got sick from all the good food mom had made. I thanked for the food and said it was great even when my stomach hurt and I felt sick. It was great but my body doesn’t want anymore. I feel like crying but if I can decide no-one is going to see me cry. I’m not fucking begging for help. Or for anything else either. Even if I will have such burned word written on my arm.

Maybe someone out there understands why physical pain is nothing to me. Nothing can hurt more than this emptiness inside.

But this is not really anything new. This is exactly how I’ve been feeling the past 15 years at least. Nothing new. No-one can help. Even IF I’d accept help there’s nothing people can do. They cannot go into my soul and change it to something else. I DID NOT wait things to get much better when moving back here. This is not going to disappear. Ever. And for those bastards who keep telling I have started to feel bad when I came back: I fucking felt this bad ALL THE TIME. I just DIDN’T SHOW IT. And nothing has ever helped. No medication, no alcohol. No love. There’s no love. I’m unable to feel love and if I have to show it it’s always fake. And why should I love even myself? Love the void? The black hole in my soul?

Mom said I have feelings. At the moment when I felt absolutely nothing. I was holding her, my hands around her shoulders and she was crying. I could have been holding a stone. I did my duty, but doing one’s duty doesn’t require feelings. I think – of course – sometimes that I should feel something in similar situations, but there’s nothing. In my talk I can fake feelings. I can lie and say nice comforting words even when my heart is cold as the freezing chamber of a slaughterhouse. I see myself even abusing people’s feelings to get something for myself. I keep contact to some people only if I can use them for something. In conversations I talk only about myself. I always forget to try to be normal… I might wake feelings in my parents (mainly mom) to make her “like me more”. Well, positive feelings. I do favours that are a minimal deal for me that cause them doing a really big favour to me. My scale is different from theirs. My capacity is rarely used even to half. Watching after their house when they are travelling is nothing. For that they give me money for train ticket, money for food, I can empty their house from all food if I’m capable of eating that much, mom bakes for me, I can go to sauna every day if I want to… I’m not sure if they see that the deal is always negative for them. They travel, but they lose in everything else. They seems so happy that they can rely on me, and I don’t even feel a tiny bit bad about abusing their friendliness.

I so wish I could find a nice man for the rest of my life, but who’d be such an idiot to take someone like this? :(

2 Responses to “Ghost”

  1. The image of you consoling your mother is strangely contradictory with the feelings you describe about your family. Is the purpose of doing so to prevent something even more catastrophic from happening, or do you still care enough about how your mother feels to want to make her feel better? I mean, with all the anger and resentment that you describe feeling towards them, I’d expect *you* to be the one leaving them to deal with it by themselves. What keeps you from doing so?

    • The thing with caring is not easy. Sometimes I do, mostly I don’t, but I feel it’s what I have to do because nobody else will. But after all the one that most scared me was her, her yelling, because it reminds me forever from those nights spent awake in fear listening to them fight. I feel her crying after the fight is a part of the martyrdom she plays. I guess she really believes “it wasn’t her fault”. That’s disturbing. But I do many things like a robot just to avoid worse, like you said. There are things I dislike but have to do them anyway, whether to be able to live in this society, or just to stay in touch with family.

      Right now I feel that the main reason for not being as cold as I feel towards my family is because I still kind of need them. They are good for something, even if it’s only giving me a possibility to visit the places where I spent my childhood, or stay in their home without them being there (I have some strange obsession about peoples’ homes, I dream about it a lot and when it’s dark outside I try to look in from the windows. I want to know how it looks like there, what stuff they own, get to know the house and every creaking plank of the floor). This need is not emotional need, it’s plain benefitting from what they have, own or do. So basically it is even worse to “care” this way than to simply not care and act cold.

      I’m slipping to the dark side again. O_o


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