Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Disassociation and Relocation

Music is often touted as one of the most powerful methods of communicating, whether it's a message or an emotion or something entirely different. It's quite interesting, too, how many memories can be associated with music: come across an old song on the radio or just browsing through iTunes, and suddenly memories from five years ago come streaming back strong enough to put me there.

Normally that's awesome. I'll just jump into the antithesis you're probably now expecting. I heard a lot of really awesome music this past year, especially this past summer. Some of it, especially the song "Fireflies", I really got into before it hit mainstream popularity. Now it's right in the middle of its huge wave (not to mention a few other songs, heard and now played similarly frequently all around me, out of my control). All of the memories associated with such songs have turned to some of the most painful and bitter heartbreak. When those songs come across the radio or are played by a neighboring room in the dorm or a store I'm in or any other place I can't avoid it, these memories stream in as strong as ever, accompanied by the pain of broken hopes.

I started to wonder, with the seeming unavoidability (new word?) of these songs, can I force new memories upon them? Even if I never fully enjoy them like I used to, this would at least keep them from sending my mind to thoughts that buoy depression. Well, I'm trying. It's my goal to re-associate the song "Fireflies" with new memories of winter; a chill in the air, a cloudless, starry night, driving fast on back roads and rocking out loud by myself.

I just read a brief study that says emotional memories are rendered vulnerable to change each time they are retrieved. I need to know it's possible.

I need to know I can stop this, even if I can't erase it altogether.

Friday, December 4, 2009

begin again.

It's much later than is healthy, which means blogging is a terrible idea.

I mean, I should have been asleep two hours ago.

And I'm not even doing anything productive right now.

But here I am. Thinking maybe I'll get into this blogging thing regularly again. And I haven't got anything profound to write right now. At least, nothing currently in my mind. So, I'll drink some more water, waste some more time and wonder why I'm not asleep.

And though I'm feeling more exhausted than I have in at least a few weeks, I'm going to stay up even later.

This blog is such a personal, emotional place for me. I was reading some old posts; they really do show the full range of who I am, from the best of me to the very worst. I guess if you want to get a glimpse of who I am, going through this blog is a good representation.

Sure, getting to know me in real life will accomplish that. But frankly, I'm scared of people and of deep relationships. Most of my deepest relationships have all ended terribly painfully. I still have my sister, and there's one other friend, but that's all that's to show of the dozen or so deep friends I've had in the past six years. I suppose a few have just slipped away, but even that really hurts.

Especially when... Well, I felt totally forgotten. Tons of people I know, all friends, and organized by somebody who once told me I was of immense worth and a very best friend...
But everything changes over time. I experienced enough to know that change happens and pessimistic enough to live in expectancy.
But it still hurts.

It's strange how I seem to cycle through very similar pain this time every year. Last year was so similar to this, and the year before, when I was living on my own, and the year before that...

I just have such unanswered questions; things about life I thought I was beginning to grasp, but it's all been thrown out the window. I do well with formulas and predictable outcomes. Do this and this will happen. But such a certainty in life just doesn't seem to exist.

I can spend day and night thinking about the things that have shaped me, but none of that seems to help me grow. Instead, I feel an even stronger inclination to introverted-ness.

Ugh. I just really need to go to bed.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

These are the wounds that give shape to who I am.

Do you miss me the way I miss you? The ways I miss you...
Do you hurt the way I hurt? The ways I hurt...
Lonely and hollow, but I'm still here, forgotten.

Could you lie to me and call it the truth? Tell me the truth...
I'm just another not-good-enough, another I "love" you, but...
I offered my whole heart; abused it, beat and bruised it.

I never saw you as perfect, just beautifully flawed.

All of me, I'm such a damned fool
Let you in, thought you were safe
Thought that maybe I had a chance
But I was wrong, I was wrong.

I never saw you as perfect, just beautifully flawed.