ecappaccino's Diaryland Diary


Entry 11 - fall from grace

[�touff� - suffocate or smother; The technique of muting (not stopping) a tone by laying the palm on the bridge while plucking the string]

How well do we really know a person? That's what I was thinking today. Because nobody is really who they seem to be, are they? Everybody hides something from the world, hides something in their heart, or even hides something from their own selves. I too, am not all who I appear to be. I probably never will. And I'm sure that you as the reader are not who you appear to be either. Even though I write in this diary, I do not always say what I am really feeling on the inside. I may even lie about it, or say something that I think will help others, even if I don't feel it myself.

Like if somebody's mother died, and they think that they have been disrespectful because they had an argument the night before, then I will say that if in your heart you forgive, and love, then it is enough. But deep in me, I know that in the world we live in and not the fantasy that we believe in, love is not enough. Nothing is ever enough, is it? But I will lie all the same to make other people feel better. Or maybe to make myself feel better.

So I am still hiding, no matter what I say. Nothing in the world can stop me from doing that. I don't doubt that some of my entries are lies, even though I think what I say is sincere. I am lying to myself, but I don't know it. I guess what I'm trying to say is that the only person that you can truly ever, ever trust with all your secrets is yourself. And even then, something inside you might be lying.

There is nothing else I have to say. This diary is full of confessions from a twisted heart, and I think that I have nothing to add to it at the moment. Sometimes, when I see or read something, I will express my feelings about the topic. Or if somebody I think needs some help, or went through something that I went through and is suffering, I will maybe choose one or two of my life's experiences and talk about it.

What I do not want to do is to bleed my own heart to death. Some things are mine, and are mine to live and understand alone. And there will be some things that are yours that are yours to live and understand alone. It's like a rule of the universe, or something. A code of silence that governs each and every one of us no matter who we are and where we are from.

As Truman (the guy from the movie, not the president) said, "You never had a camera in my head." It's true. Nobody will ever stick anything in your head to monitor your thoughts. If all else is gone from you, if you are nothing but a slave, or the world has turned its back on you, there will be one part of you that will remain yours alone. And that is both a comfort and a disaster. Because hope comes out of that knowledge, but also desolation. It all depends on your will to live.

When I said that I was a stereotypical candidate for suicide, I was telling the truth. Really, I fit all the stereotypes of people who do such a horrible thing. But I don't think I'll ever do it, because there is something else. I have a desperation to survive, which I don't think is existant in people who actually go for it. If I were stuck on a desert island with somebody I love and there was only one canteen of water left and only enough for one person to survive, I would drink it. No matter who it is I am there with, no matter how much I love them. Exceptions are made for mother and father, but in those instances I will only consent to share. That is how badly I want to survive.

Sometimes I think that my pure will to stay alive at all costs comes from a stubborness, and also from revenge. I am too stubborn to give up and also, I want to live a long and prosperous life to get back at God for having me born into the world in the first place. Why are children born into the world where there is only disappointment? Some people are convinced that there is no Hell. We are living in Hell. Sometimes, I think that is true, because I cannot imagine anywhere worse than the world. But I cannot imagine anywhere better, either.

I have shed everything in this diary that I am willing to shed, to throw out into the light. Sometimes, I feel so exposed, so open to criticism when I write in here. Sometimes I feel so anxious that I want to delete the whole thing right away. But I can't, because that would be hiding all over again. Although I will always hide, because it is in me to be hidden, I will not to consent to hiding so much that nobody will ever see any of me. Maybe one day somebody will hide themselves so much that nobody can really know where they are. And then they are lost to themselves.

I don't want that to happen to me. Which is why I have to keep writing. But things are going to change, because I have already said all the things from my heart that I think needs to be said. So I will now write about thing things in my head, which is easier. I hate writing about how I feel. When I see psychiatrists ask their patients, 'but how do you feel?' I want to say to them, 'How do you want me to feel?'. Is there a right answer? Is there a wrong answer? It's hard to tell, and so it's hard to answer.

Ever since I was a little girl, about five or six (that is my earliest clear memory), I have always had a feeling deep down, not from my heart but from my soul, that I would be something more than just a normal person when I grew up. Like I would change the world, or do something great. I would be famous for something. Even now, I am so convinced that in the future I will do something that would make my whole purpose become clear. But right now I don't know what it is. But either way, something in me is saying that I am not destined to be an ordinary girl.

I know this is an improbably dream, and I have never ever indulged in dreams (I was one of those children who wisely realized that they were never pretty or special enough to be a movie or rock star and therefore saved myself from a lot of disappointment at an early age). However, this goes so deep that it is there all the time, like something sleeping inside of me that will wake up when the time is right.

Over the years I have proved only to be a typical girl who has no talents whatsoever to recommend her into anything. I'm as plain as a person can possibly be, maybe even less than plain. In other words, I am more or less on the borderline of below average. But that feeling just won't go away. It's something tugging you, making you squirm and wiggle and making your unsatisfied with everything. So I have become restless and uneasy. I'm always expecting something to come and hit me in the face when I am not looking or that I might miss an opportunity for something.

People do tend to notice that I am a tense person. And I do admit that I fidget a lot. Our health teacher says I'm a kinesthetic learner, which is somebody who likes to move by movement. I will not last a day without doing something with my hands all the time. I scribble, I doodle, I make up nonsense. But generally that's how it goes. And I also have poor circulation which makes it double necessary for my hands to be doing something all the time.

I have noticed something about me that I didn't see before. I have developed a tendency to be busy. What I mean is that if I have absolutely no meetings, nobody to meet, no deadlines, nothing to do at lunchtime, something in my head makes up something. Like once I had this overwhelming feeling that I had to look for one of my friends, Cher, who I not only hardly ever talked to, but who I had nothing in common with. So I spent all of my lunch hour roaming the entire school looking for her. I asked everybody, including going into the music rooms and asking people that I only vaguely knew but who I knew were acquainted with Cher about where she was. I just couldn't find her.

The search only ended with the bell. Afterwards, after school, one of the people I talked to came up to me and told me that Cher was standing outside the library. Then she asked me why I wanted to see her so badly. What could I say? I had no idea. I think that person now thinks I'm a complete idiot...or maybe a little crazy.

It's always something like that. I spend my time either searching for a person desperately or thinking I have missed a meeting. If I see one of my friends who is in a group with me is not where she usually sits, I automatically panic and start counting all the meetings and groups we are in together and figuring out whether she was at a meeting that I should be or not. Half the time it turns out that she's been to the toilet or something stupid like that. But I just have to check the school notices about three times to make sure I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, back to that strange feeling that I have deep deep down that I will turn out to be something more than just some woman who goes to work, comes home, feeds the kids and then goes to sleep. I can't shake it away, no matter what I do. I have really tempted myself sometimes when I say to myself that I am nothing and I am not worth anything and I was the person nobody would have anything to do with. But a voice inside me always told me I was wrong, that I will be something different than just another ordinary dreary person. It's like an inner self confidence that is always there.

Perhaps that is why I am so optimistic all the time. Maybe the cynical part of me is trying to rebel against that optimism and that strange voice. And maybe that's what makes me the hypocrite.

Something else that I find amusing. Last year, while everybody was forming ideas about what they want to be when they grew up, I said that I wanted to become a nun and go to Africa to help with the poverty in places like Zaire, Zambia, and whatever minority place that I could think of. And I said it with all sincerity. I even told my mother, who had a bit of a shock. Now if I had been just kidding with myself, there is no way I would have told my mother. But the fact that I did now convinces me that I had really thought I wanted to do that. And then my mother told another mother...and so it went.

Now that I am wiser, I do not think I will do that. But it still is in my head. If all else fails, I believe that I really will become a nun and go to Africa. Or I might skip the nun part and to to Africa with the Red Cross or something. Either way, that is a probable future that I can see for myself. In fact, that is the only future that I can see for myself at the moment, even though I am sure that I can become many other things.

I can't imagine myself as a doctor, or a nurse, or a lawyer, or even a secretary. I can't imagine myself in thirty years time. And that something inside of me that is telling me that I will be more than ordinary...I can't picture myself at all when I am famous. It's all like a blank. If I were superstitious then I would say that i can't imagine my future because I will not live to see it. However, I am lucky that I don't believe in crap like that. While it is true that my biggest fear is dying, I do not think it is because of that.

Another thing about me is that I can never follow plans. I never could, and I doubt if I will ever be able to do so. I never make plans, because I will not follow them. And when I do, I only get frustrated because I never stuck to it. One thing that I hate most in the world is when things don't work out as I planned. Which is why I never plan.

I know that I am thinking in backwards logic. The logic that I applied in the last paragraph was the same one as saying 'Only sick people take pills so if I stop taking pills I will not be sick'. It is twisted, back to front, inside out. But that's how I think and I know that I think like that. But I can't stop myself, because if I do then things will probably be worse. It's like the fact that if you want to get a stone from under your house, you must first take your house apart to get it. And that is a bigger mess than what you started off with so why not live with the's not doing too much harm at the moment.

Now I have talked for such a long time that I have forgotten the original intent of my entry, except that I must think more with my head. And I have. But I still can't completely rule out my heart, can I? I have written about the secret feeling inside me, and that is not part of my head-thoughts. I guess it's true - to lose heart is to lose your head. And to lose your head is to lose heart.

2:27 pm - 2003-05-25


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