Replaced in Stasis

I am frozen.

It’s like I’m ice, cracked, sparkling and yet breakable when dropped on the ground. It’s like I’m snow, tumbling down in little flakes, trying to be 3 at once and melting as soon as I flitter through the air. It’s like I’m dust, flailing into existence, twirling through that dance by myself with a thousand others never quite touching me. It is like I am invisible.

I am a mat, coloured in soft greens and baby blues, furrowed and nondescript. For people to pass over me is okay, to exchange me for an intricate rug, threaded with beads and starbound circles. I am content to lay dormant, only rising to be a cardboard cut-out whilst those worth more than a rusting sixpence fly. Bitterness is beneath me, stamped out by my paper hands. I refuse to feel unfairness trickling away like sand. Cardboard doesn’t feel, right?

Snow is content, time and time again, to let others fall past them with delicacy. Ice does not feel worthless when broken into the sea and replaced by sturdier, stronger, surer ice. Cardboard does not scream when it is replaced by glossy paper that understands emotions, that can be flawed but still retain humanity. I am no paper, no better snowflake, no alluring ice. I am cracked without the allure.

Reassured while my plummeting heart tries to thaw, I am told I am everything, yet shown I am nothing. Smoke falls over my hands, reaching, asking, never quite touching. The whispers of others, better, better, better, roar into my ears. They fall away. Actions cry louder than words. Therefore, my heart blanks over again, cardboard sliding over chipped stone.

I am cold, receding into thinness and terror and flawed passivity. Threads of gold stretch on into the distance, snipped half-heartedly yet not enough to sever ties. It is only enough to hurt, the sibling of fate rushing off to take care of another thread. It is left hanging by an atom, the last string of hope clinging desperately. It frosts over, hiding something explosive beneath a mirror of frozen hopelessness.

โ  โ ƒ I am burning, too bright, snuffed out like a spark of candle-flame. I am raging, self-contained and shaking. It is like I am a volcano, lain passive for so long, finally about to erupt.

When I break, I will leave destruction like petals in my wake. There may be a circle of my presence, trembling at the depth of humanity. When I shatter, people will glance over, never quite knowing that this is real. If I finally realise that I am worth something, I may change the world.

Before it changes me.

From Elm ๐Ÿ™‚

Connecting to Myself Again

Lately, I’ve been feeling really “dulled”: my emotions have been dimmer; I don’t know how to react to much any more; I haven’t been feeling things as strongly and can’t express that. It took a walk on Saturday to figure that out and I remember just feeling numbed and blank as I walked through the park with my dad and then scared because of that.

Yesterday, I took a 2 hour walk in the same park, with my dad again. I’d gone home the previous day and just felt like I was floating around – the emotions I’ve been feeling for months finally able to be realised, felt and analysed. It’s not like it’s been constant: I’ve had a lot of times when I’ve felt perfectly fine, laughing and feeling and being happier than ever. This is like when I go to blind camp, when I meet bloggers especially and on days with my friends. When I’m at home, surrounded by people I don’t know, just thinking, existing or not doing much, I don’t feel as “with it” as I used to.

On yesterday’s walk, something changed. In an abstract way beforehand, I’d thought that I needed to really do something about my lack of expression – my quietness and how I’d withdrawn into myself. We went around the pond, walked into a garden in the park, strode along paths and grass; I was exhausted afterwards but it was more than worth it.

It was a beautiful day: the sun was shining, birds were screeching and children laughed. Dogs barked, I could hear my feet on the ground and the air didn’t feel heavy on my skin. Usually, I get guided by my dad and I hold his arm; yesterday, I walked mostly by myself, except when I was approaching a large group of people or when I nearly walked into a stream. It was freeing: I felt so bloody alive. Being surrounded by nature – trees, little waterfalls, bridges over lakes – put shit in perspective.

It was the simplicity of it: too often my head gets so crowded that it can’t process the thoughts and so it just, well, gives up; I’ve never been good at thinking in words but when the sensations that you think themselves aren’t as bright as they once were, everything can get hazy. Imagine nature as having had cleared a little of that fog. I felt calmed: not utterly, as the conversations with my dad were making me feel the appropriate sorts of emotions, but connected with the world enough to properly take in what was happening around me and what he was saying.

After we’d had an icecream and went home, I did some work. The key difference between yesterday and the day before was that I could do my work without my thoughts becoming blurry; I could think about it and not want to throw my computer across the room with frustration. One chapter and a half of Jane Eyre was fully analysed and I got a little inspiration to do some casual psychology revision. It’s remarkable what getting me away from the sometimes stagnant atmosphere of the indoors, the usual, can do to my health.

In the evening for dinner, I went round the house of Rose and Poppy and their family. I’ve known them all my life and I’ve never had to make an effort to keep up conversation with them: I love them like sisters; they put up with me and my stupid younger self. If they can deal with that, they can pretty much deal with any weirdness I display now. I sang with them, laughing with them and insulted them: the usual things we do. It was nothing out of the ordinary but that’s why I liked it.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I really haven’t been feeling emotions like you’d expect me to. It took Saturday and yesterday – the realisations versus feeling truly alive again – for me to notice that my attitude, my thoughts, have been so… Quiet. So out of place and silenced, shall we say.

It took those two days to know that I could do something about that. Put me in the midst of nature, happiness or somewhere where I feel utterly comfortable and where I love my surroundings and you have yourself a properly connected and self-aware Elm. I think that I need to start finding ways to remember what things feel like without paranoia and worry, like I did in the park.

For me, this is positive. I know how to mend what’s happening, having only come to the conclusion that it was happening recently. However, the fact that I so quickly did something about it – perhaps not intentionally but it was still done – shows me that deep down, I’m not just an empty shell.

From Elm ๐Ÿ™‚

A “Poem” About Bitterness and Other Fun Emotions

It’s okay
When you look the other way
As I walk past, so that
You can’t see me.
We all want to be blind sometimes.

It’s alright
When you gaze in awe
At the fractures of our friendship, never
Knowing how much I hurt-
I can’t see your story,

I don’t mind
When you’re cold as winter frost,
Then warm as the sun’s rays-
My heart will heal in a broken cage
As I do the same.

Don’t worry
When you hate me, fire burning
In your soul,
Yet you wear the mask of love
As if it could fit you.

But I don’t think
Of the hours wasted, tears
Falling in the darkness, hands holding
The sky: I never
Fall twice, into the sea of you.

I still exist
Despite your words, heart beating
For myself, shattering as I
Let your strings maneuver me.
No more.

You can’t hold on
To my trust, when you so trampled it
Your truth, when you saw fit
To crush and break and tear
My happiness.
Did you know?

Let go of it,
Spinning, running, lost,
When I say I hate you,
When I say goodbye,
Give me freedom to say:
It will be okay.

I hope you liked that. This really isn’t about one specific person, but rather a way to release the pent up bitterness and sadness I sometimes feel.

If you feel like I do, constantly looking at the actions of others, I have one piece of advice: yes, they’ll do the things they do, but it’s up to you to tell yourself that though you care, it’s okay that they do them. It’s okay because THEY are the ones digging themselves into a hole of anger, not you. Be strong enough to remember that you CAN be the better person, rather than giving into the shit that people throw at you.

It’s so hard. Not to feel angry at how people hurt you, not to want to scream and cry about it and tell them that they’re disgusting. What I’m trying to do is admit my own faults, that I AM sad, but that in the end – it’s fine to feel that way.

It’s good to exist and feel and love and cry. God knows I do it. Think about what people have done to you, all the misery you feel because of something, and then release that somehow. You can do it in any way you want, just as long as you don’t punch/kick the person.

I’ve been given a lot of advice recently that I haven’t listened to as much as I should. I realised that’s because I’m very scared of shutting people out, letting the bitterness and irritation control me. I find it very difficult to forgive people, but still find myself UNABLE to let go – do you know the feeling?

You’ll always feel bitter and upset because of SOMETHING – I still do, and that’s part of being human. However, you don’t have to let that rule your life. You’re bigger than it and you need to go out and LIVE so that you can come back and say: “I may wonder why they do these things, but I’m the one enjoying myself.”

From Elm ๐Ÿ™‚

I hate getting all sappy but…

ASDFGHJKL my friends are awesome okay breathe calm gah

So, I’ve got a friend called Holly. I guess – she’s been through a lot with me and I can talk to her – I know she doesn’t hate me.

Odd convinced her to have a Halloween party earlier, and I checked with Holly that I could come. And she said: “OF FUCKING COURSE I wouldn’t have it without you!”

You know when you get that nice warm feeling in your chest from someone saying something nice to you? Yup. The coldhearted bitch Elm felt that.

And because I’m an emotional weirdo, it just hit me that I actually have friends.

As in… I know I have friends, but it hit me just now that THEY ARE THERE AND THEY ARE REAL and what even?

I feel so weird. Am I the only one that gets these “HOLY SHIT” moments?

Blogging friends. RL friends. Moments of niceness I’ve had with both. Look through messages with them – okay, THAT’s weird.

I think I’m going to go and hide, and calm down, in a corner somewhere. Heh. I feel like an overemotional strange person.

From Elm ๐Ÿ™‚

PS: The next story on my writing blog should be up either today or tomorrow! YEAH! Need to get into the mood for writing, though.