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Hi. My name is Batty Maiden and I am going insane. No, really, I am losing my grip on reality... You'd think someone with an LJ name that includes the word "batty" in it would have come to terms with that a while back, but I'm not "loosing it" the way I thought I would - into the bright and colorful chaos that surrounds Matt. No, no, no... Tonight I find myself in that oh so wonderful place called depression - sans Matt. Well, actually, I've been here for a while, but if you look around yourself you'll see I've redecorated a bit. Do you like the vases? I thought the dried roses were a particularly nice touch. (Those last two lines sound best if you picture Eric Idle saying them. At least, they did to me when I was writing this.)
I need to work on the second draft of my victim impact statement. I don't want to do this. I don't want to admit that I am in reality - that there is very little chance that I will be waking up with this having all been some horrible nightmare. I mean, I'll do it just in case this reality is indeed, the true reality of my life. You can never be too sure. But that in no way increases my desire to face this head-on.
I miss Matt so terribly. I keep lying to myself just to get through one more day... The most recent lie is that I am in a coma somewhere, having burst my appendix or something, and this is all the fevered dream of a sick woman. I will, in the not too distant future, wake up out of this coma to a relieved Matt. Actually, it's not a lie it's true. So, if I'm not here in this reality tomorrow, then I will have woken up. You know the rules of dreams, if you announce the thing that is present, impossible, and obvious to witnesses, then you wake up. You're all my witnesses now. Once I receive replies to this, it will be officially noted, and then we'll see...
(Before you all worry, no, I will not be surprised if this doesn't work. However, you can't blame me for trying...)
I keep having these dreams where Matt isn't dead. He just got hurt a little, and in these dreams I nurse him back to health (amongst other things...). These dreams aren't real enough to be true, and it's hard to get up in the morning after I've had one. I mean, I can't tell whether I feel better to have these fantasies or if they just make everything worse.
Life is just so much more surreal without Matt. Each day creeps by, and even though I have plenty to do, plenty to learn, plenty to explore, I have no lust for it. I just wander around trying to find Meaning to my life. Actually, lately, I have been trying to take![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
barelyproper's advice about not looking for Meaning. In some ways it feels liberating to throw myself at the mercy of the machinations of whatever rules/gods/whatever run this place - you know, just go with the flow. At the same time, I'm tired of being bandied around and thrown into the rocks. It's hard not to swim and take control of your course when life keeps bashing you in the rear as you float down river on your back. It doesn't help that the person I considered my raft has sunk. If only the stupid flow of the stupid river would toss me into a nice, calm eddy so that I can build my own damn raft... *mumble mumble stupid flow mumble* If I don't get tossed ashore soon, I'm going to start searching for a way out. It could be worse, I could be drowning. At least I'm able to keep my head above water.
I went home this weekend for my brother's eighteenth birthday party. My parents, my sister, my aunt and uncle, and I were all able to genuinely surprise him with birthday presents he really liked. It was fun to see him shout, "Oh, man, no way!" every time he opened one of our gifts. It was fun.
I have more to say about this weekend, but I have now ranted into the wee hours of the morning, and I need to sleep. I know that I don't have to be up at any particular time, but it's bloody hot outside. Our house has no air conditioning. I sleep in the least ventilated room upstairs in a tall loft - quite possibly the tallest spot in the house that you can sleep. This means that if I sleep in past 10 a.m. I'm drenched. So, goodnight!
I need to work on the second draft of my victim impact statement. I don't want to do this. I don't want to admit that I am in reality - that there is very little chance that I will be waking up with this having all been some horrible nightmare. I mean, I'll do it just in case this reality is indeed, the true reality of my life. You can never be too sure. But that in no way increases my desire to face this head-on.
I miss Matt so terribly. I keep lying to myself just to get through one more day... The most recent lie is that I am in a coma somewhere, having burst my appendix or something, and this is all the fevered dream of a sick woman. I will, in the not too distant future, wake up out of this coma to a relieved Matt. Actually, it's not a lie it's true. So, if I'm not here in this reality tomorrow, then I will have woken up. You know the rules of dreams, if you announce the thing that is present, impossible, and obvious to witnesses, then you wake up. You're all my witnesses now. Once I receive replies to this, it will be officially noted, and then we'll see...
(Before you all worry, no, I will not be surprised if this doesn't work. However, you can't blame me for trying...)
I keep having these dreams where Matt isn't dead. He just got hurt a little, and in these dreams I nurse him back to health (amongst other things...). These dreams aren't real enough to be true, and it's hard to get up in the morning after I've had one. I mean, I can't tell whether I feel better to have these fantasies or if they just make everything worse.
Life is just so much more surreal without Matt. Each day creeps by, and even though I have plenty to do, plenty to learn, plenty to explore, I have no lust for it. I just wander around trying to find Meaning to my life. Actually, lately, I have been trying to take
barelyproper's advice about not looking for Meaning. In some ways it feels liberating to throw myself at the mercy of the machinations of whatever rules/gods/whatever run this place - you know, just go with the flow. At the same time, I'm tired of being bandied around and thrown into the rocks. It's hard not to swim and take control of your course when life keeps bashing you in the rear as you float down river on your back. It doesn't help that the person I considered my raft has sunk. If only the stupid flow of the stupid river would toss me into a nice, calm eddy so that I can build my own damn raft... *mumble mumble stupid flow mumble* If I don't get tossed ashore soon, I'm going to start searching for a way out. It could be worse, I could be drowning. At least I'm able to keep my head above water.I went home this weekend for my brother's eighteenth birthday party. My parents, my sister, my aunt and uncle, and I were all able to genuinely surprise him with birthday presents he really liked. It was fun to see him shout, "Oh, man, no way!" every time he opened one of our gifts. It was fun.
I have more to say about this weekend, but I have now ranted into the wee hours of the morning, and I need to sleep. I know that I don't have to be up at any particular time, but it's bloody hot outside. Our house has no air conditioning. I sleep in the least ventilated room upstairs in a tall loft - quite possibly the tallest spot in the house that you can sleep. This means that if I sleep in past 10 a.m. I'm drenched. So, goodnight!
