Hope Rides Alone

  Andrew, 26/10/2019, 22:14:
  "You are absolutely right. I am a coward. Most of my actions are done in cowardice, in a bottomless sea of unrelenting fear. And every single time, my actions result in the consequences I am trying so desperately to avoid. I just compound and double down. Certain that my experiences will fare me better. I am living an endless souls-like where I don't realize that my past experience is only good for avoiding doing that exact same mistake, but never learning why I failed in the first place in hopes of moving on. Ultimately that just leaves me pushing forward while countless others are left behind uncertain why. I'm sorry. I truly am. At the same time, there isn't anything that matters regarding how I feel. You are the one hurt, and that's not fair. You shouldn't be punished for being vulnerable, you shouldn't feel abandoned for always being available. You shouldn't feel those things because it is what I am afraid of. My actions are simply causing others to experience my fears while I do my best to avoid them. So for that I am sorry. That is not fair to you. That is not fair to any of you. Not that it should be of surprise but; I have no found anything 'better'. I'm just stopping myself from keeping this pointless cycle up, just sitting quietly alone in my room with shadow. Sometimes playing games, but mostly just doing what I can to avoid people as much as possible. I'm not sad or upset, I'm not happy or excited, I'm just doing what it takes to survive with as little impact to others as I possibly can. I will send a proper apology to ___ and ___, just as I am doing so to you, because you are right, you deserve an answer. Not saying anything doesn't absolve me from what I've done, it just means I suffer the consequences ignorantly. So once again; I'm sorry."

  Andrew always knew how to talk to people. His patter was word perfect from the day of our first interaction to the moment of our last. It was mesmerising. In reading over his last message now, I realise it was not open-ended. It was not encouraging a conversation or a discussion on how we could mend our friendship, but a goodbye. He was done. Trying had become too much effort for him, and there was nothing left for him to give. Maybe he thought he was offering me closure, or perhaps saying goodbye was better than no response at all, (I had strongly expressed my distaste for being ignored to him multiple times).

  At the time, I can confirm his message did not offer me any closure. At all. I responded with a lengthy message of my own, my childlike naivety kicking in. I didn't receive anything else. It took five days to get the above message after the last one I'd sent on the 21st. I actually wasn't expecting anything at all. It was a month or so since he'd spoken to me, verbally or otherwise, and I had sort of come to terms with the fact that we were done. I decided to unfollow him to spare my feelings, and then five days later he sent the goodbye.

  In a toxic, probably very unhealthy way, writing about him here helps the hurt I feel when I think of him. When I'm talking about him, it feels like he's still with me. It feels like I haven't lost what we had. Like I wasn't abandoned by a person I loved so much and cared so dearly for. It would be hard to describe just how much I loved Andrew. He was, and is, like no other person I've ever met. He was harsh and pointed, and he always said what was on his mind no matter how scathing. And I liked that. I shouldn't have; he was nasty, and irritated by the smallest and most meaningless things. He would let something put him in a bad mood, and he'd allow that to ruin his day. But even when he was angry he would still talk. He'd tell me all the horrible details in his head. I can't count the hours we spent discussing the people he hated.

  I apologise for consistently jumping between tenses. It's hard to always speak about somebody in the past tense when they're not dead. Yet it's equally as difficult to stay in the present tense when you no longer speak to a person. It's been less than a year and so much must have happened that I don't know about. I feel like I should know, but I don't have the opportunity of being on the inside anymore. It isn't my place to know, and I do realise that, but even now it's still so hard. I've never grieved for a friend like I have Andrew, and I'm still not done.

  There is a part of me that will never let him go. There will always be a hole in my heart where Andrew fits perfectly. I know it's bad for me but if I could make the conscious decision for myself and carry it out, I wouldn't even be writing this post. He is simultaneously dead to me, and very much alive because I am unable to move past him. My life is different without him in it and my mental health has taken a significant dive. He is the only reason I cry anymore. As I said before, it's unhealthy. I know that. But keeping a part of him with me, immortalising him within these words like a character that never really existed in the first place, I suppose has some kind of therapeutic affect. Even if it is damaging in the long run. I never was very good at looking after myself.

Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
05/07/2020

  

Small Circle

  It’s... been another three months, hasn’t it. I’m sorry, I really am. Though that word means fuck-all in the grand scheme, especially when nobody can see the meaning behind it. If there’s any meaning at all.

  It sounds silly, but the last few months have been so up and down that I’m not sure where I’m at right now. I’ve been playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons like most other people on the planet that own a Switch. There hasn’t been an AC game that I haven’t enjoyed, so I knew the latest instalment was something I wanted to personally experience rather than vicariously live through an obnoxious YouTube gamer. I’ve really enjoyed having a new little project to work on, (my island), even though I never make it all that pretty. I have villagers I love and a space that’s my own, so that’s what matters to me.

  It’s nice, in a way, to be able to escape my own circle. You wouldn’t think it be possible to fuck up and still be a bad person when you only talk to like, three people? But trust me, it’s still very much a risk if you’re an idiot like I am. Imagine potentially sacrificing something you love so much for literally no reason at all. If you can’t think of how that would make you feel, or can’t begin to conceive of what that would be like, then just trust me when I say that it’s bad.

  Is the reason I stay away from people really for my benefit? Or is it for theirs? I think about that a lot. Is it because I’m scared of what they’ll do to me? Or because I’m scared of what I could do to them if I become even more apathetic and even more complacent?

  Of course, these questions are all rhetoric. There’s no telling what the answers really are, hell, even I don’t know most of the time.

  I miss having things to be passionate about other than games. I miss writing. I miss being interested in other things. I miss being interested in people. I miss expressing my political stances in spaces that really didn’t matter to people that didn’t even care to hear about what you thought or believed. Those don’t exist anymore. This is my only platform. I have no interests. I am an empty shell of what I once believed myself to be. Where does that leave me?

  What’s it like, you ask? If I could explain it any better than I already have, then I would. But I can’t. I mentally, physically, emotionally, (and any other planes besides these that might exist), can’t. There are no words for it. None that I can conjure up. The only thing that comes close is this empty feeling... I need to do some more thinking.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

08/06/2020

Him.

  Last September was around the last time I posted anything before my ‘hiatus’ or whatever. It was around then that I lost someone who I thought would be a permanent fixture in my life. He ghosted me and despite this happening many times before with other people, he was different and it really fucked me up. I didn’t know how to deal with it or how I was even supposed to move past it without an explanation. I don’t know whether I am past it at this point and there are still things I can’t play/do/listen to/think about without thinking of him, and that is the semi-permanent damage his actions have done to me. It’s unfair, and I still have no explanation. But he is alive and I suppose that’s all that matters. I hope he’s happy without me even though I am not without him.

——————————————————

  This part is being written a month or so after the first bit up there.

  I’m still in the same-ish boat as I was when it first happened, though I can feel myself slowly healing and fixing back together. It’s not perfect, as I am not either. And neither was he. Nor is anyone. That’s why this happened in the first place. At the end of the day, I got too close. I saw being his friend as some kind of prize in a way, thus lowering my self-worth. The fact that I was happy someone like him would ever think to be friends with ‘someone like me’ says a lot about my low self-esteem. It felt like I’d won him, which is kind of sick.

  I felt so much anger in the first few months. I for some reason thought maybe if I vented it online he’d see how much I was hurting and want to fix what he’d done to me, but I was wrong. He unfollowed me about a month after.

  That hit hard. That hurt.

  It’s hard to let go, but sometimes you have to. Your health depends on if.

Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
08/03/2020

Beautiful Sunday

  Today is a better day. I don’t feel as miserable or as hopeless. I don’t have as many depressive episodes lately, which is of course a massive improvement. When I do have them, they’re pretty bad. I cry, I self-deprecate, I judge myself harshly, but once it passes and I can see clearly I feel better. Cleansed almost. Not in some hippy dippy way, but it’s unarguable that an emotional and mental disposal is often necessary to get through to the other side. And that’s okay. It’s actually really healthy.

  It’s weird. When I’m in it and I can’t see properly in the dark, I want anything else to be happening at all. But once it’s over I feel better. Usually in the morning after a really deep, long sleep. I often don’t think about it at all. Only now that I’m reflecting on my last one am I actually thinking about it. My head feels fogged. I know what caused it, but it seems so silly and insignificant now.

  For what it’s worth, I’m in a good place right now. How long will it last? I don’t know. But right now, everything is okay.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

16/02/2020

Happy Valentines Day

  I don’t know what to title this, so. It’s not like it matters anyway. This place has just become a dumping ground for my feelings where they’re mostly safe from prying eyes. Nobody visits here anyway, so there’ll be no intruders. It’s just you and I for now.

  I don’t know what it is lately, but I feel alone. Isolated even when there’s somebody in the flat with me. All I have to do in the daytime is scroll social media, and in hindsight that makes me feel worse. I get to see all the fun things my friends are doing with their friends, posting all their fun times together but never when I’m involved. I post a lot about other people, but nobody ever posts about me. It doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s pretty irrelevant but it’s just funny to me how everybody gets mentioned here and there except me. Is there something wrong with me? Don’t I deserve the same attention everyone else gets? Jesus, what’s wrong with me. I just wish I could answer that question.

  I’m miserable. All the time. There’s nothing to do and when I’m unoccupied, it’s the worst. It hurts. If I had the guts, maybe I wouldn’t be here. I’m not suicidal, but sometimes it feels like things would be better if I wasn’t around. I wouldn’t hurt anymore. Nobody would have to bother thinking about me anymore. The people that are already in the process of forgetting me could do so guilt free. Because I know that’s what they’re doing, subconsciously or not, so many people I know just don’t feel the need to get in touch anymore.

  There must be something wrong with me. There has to be. But what? Do I radiate some kind of... I don’t know, unrelenting stench of fucking foulness that people just can’t bring themselves to continue being around me? I don’t want this anymore. I want anything else but this. I feel so empty, so sad, so upset, so angry, so frustrated. Nobody thinks about me and I’m sick of thinking about them. Always having to be the one that reaches out. What about me? What about when I need someone to reach out.

  I  want to cry. I need to cry. But I can’t. It just won’t come. I’ve spent so much time crying over people that don’t give a shit about me, and here I am still repeating the same process. How do I break the cycle? By not getting attached. That’s done me a world of good so far, so I need to keep that up. Stop getting attached to stupid, worthless people that have no use to me.

  I’m just sick of it. Sick of it all.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

14/02/2020

Hello

  I wrote a post not too long back, (around September time... so I guess it was a long time ago. Oh well), basically saying what had happened between me and a now ex-friend, but in the end I didn’t post it. Maybe I will sometime. It’s still in my drafts. It’s not that I was afraid to post it, or that I even forgot, I just couldn’t see the point. It was just a tonne of vented anger at a situation that wasn’t going to change. I have foresight now, but even then I knew that he wasn’t coming back.

  Fucking Road Man.

  I just hate being treated like I don’t matter. And it seems like everyone that gets their mitts on me, figuratively, manages it. And then when they have, they always go on about how they didn’t mean to fuck me up, how they didn’t see things how I’m being made to see them, and continue the fucking behaviour anyway. At the end of the day, people are fucked and you’re best off staying away from as many as you can. Don’t trust people easily, there’s no point. None at all. You don’t owe shit to anyone but yourself.

  Anyways, I got the app for this blog so now maybe I’ll post more often. I say that a lot, though, so I’ll try to show rather than tell.

Signed,

Elijah.

Meta Sentience.

11/02/2020