me and june 11

sometimes i think about the past – when i first began to realize something was wrong with me.

as i’ve mentioned before, i was a child. we had moved often – and i was living in nevada. i was in fifth grade.

what i can remember of my past is more like broken scenes of a movie that i haven’t watched in years. they are moments, small events, feelings, dream-like situations, etc.

while i don’t remember the first time i cut myself, i do remember some of the firsts. i remember grabbing the rusty nails from the construction sites i passed by on my walk home from school. i remember finding empty glass bottles, smashing them on the sidewalk, and sorting through the pieces of glass to find the sharpest one. i remember being conflicted – knowing deep down that what i was doing wasn’t right, but also thinking about how much that didn’t matter to me because it made me feel so much better.

i remember on weekends, when i would shut myself in my room for hours making mix tapes off of the radio, writing shitty stories, or reading. i don’t know if i liked being myself, or if it was just necessary.

i remember some of the dreams i would have. i remember being so afraid and not knowing why.

i remember being smart – being in gifted programs at school. i remember straight A’s. and then i remember that going away.

i remember seeing the disappointment in my father’s eyes. a constant disappointing glare.

i remember the river. i remember the cemetery. i remember the ghosts.

and the asthma. and the girls. and the awareness that compared to most of the boys i knew, i was by far the fattest and most awkward.

i remember hearing that it was a phase. every boy went through it. i heard that i was anti-social, and had a negative attitude. it was just puberty.

this was all normal.

and it would go away.

it couldn’t be. there had to be something fucked up special about me.

and over the years, when it didn’t go away, it went from puberty to just being a pissed off teenager. this was also normal, but didn’t excuse my behavior.

eventually i realized that it wasn’t normal.

not every boy goes through it.

 

years of being told that it was you, that it is your fault, it does something to you. it fills you with a guilt and a shame that can easily overpower any feelings of love and contentment and innocence that a kid can and should have. and it’s not easy to drain that out of you.

it was the words. it was the medications. it was the illness.

this all ruined me. and it ruined me early.

and i’m scared that everything good left in me will one day be swallowed by this too.

 

don’t laugh. when you’ve spent your life watching a disease consume so much of you…

it’s not ridiculous to believe what the disease is capable of.

it’s ridiculous – and stupid – to underestimate it.

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~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2012/06/11.

17 Responses to “me and june 11”

  1. I relate to much of this. I have nothing to say that will neccesarily make you feel better, just that I relate. Try to take care.

    • i feel that way so often when i read other people’s blogs. it’s just that feeling of empathy, but also knowing that there is nothing i can say other than to let them know i am there and understand.

      so, i thank you. 🙂

  2. A certain great philosopher recently told me not to let it all get me down…. But yeah, it totally sucks and I also cannot say anything to make it better for you. I’m just letting you know I’m here reading, relating and lending support.

  3. It’s a REALLY scary thought, isn’t it?
    And it feels like we are so out of control, no matter how hard we try to survive, there’s always our illness threatening us.
    But, for what it’s worth, from the little I know of you,
    I think there’s something ‘fucking special’ about you!
    And I’m not laughing, just honoured to read your honest words.
    Go well, my friend ♡

  4. Thank you for the such open and upfront post. You’re great Sean, you really are.

    Sending you strength.

  5. Sean there is such in your words. I know for me you many things that I can’t and I thank you..turn the power of you words into the strength you need to keep up the fight. Again I thank you.

  6. You words are very eloquent and expressive. I feel the many of the same things looking back, a fragmented mostly fucked up life. But really the wors thing is being terrified of the future and in my mind it’s, “how bad can this get, how bad will it get and when?”

    • i worry about that every single day. certainly i have felt worse, and some times i have felt better, but knowing that my mind can go to places even scarier than where they are now is something that bothers me constantly. i try hard not to dwell, but it’s almost impossible at times.

  7. I remember the first cut; I remember it didn’t even break the skin, and I remember the years of shame that I couldn’t even do this right.

    It isn’t the kind of thing you can do much about, but though you might be changed, you aren’t ruined – oh, no. That good – it doesn’t go away. It will always be there, for when you choose to acknowledge it. It’ll wait.

    One day, perhaps, the good and the dark will live side-by-side, and tolerate each other.

  8. Sean my friend. I can certainly relate.. not to all, but to most. This illness should never be underestimated. NEVER. It can have catastrophic plans.
    I am here for you… always. ♥

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