msjessica's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- bitter ramblings i've been reading this book about sisters and i've been trying to work out how to write about it. because i know i need to write about it. know that it is bringing up some stuff, picking at SCARS not even scabs, ripping open some old, old wounds. i started by messaging my sister. thinking maybe she'd just sense it, maybe she'd actually understand what i was saying when i said it so plainly. she didn't. she was way off. she won't talk to me. and fuck her, i know i didn't really......i didn't really mean what i said, i am still so angry at her. it's funny actually, her response that was so off the mark was her saying she accepts my apology but oh, really, i haven't wronged her. i had not apologised, i had said that if i commit suicide, i hoped this book would be an answer to her, that it would help her forgive me for THAT, that this book would even explain my last few years of "acting out", of how i am, my beliefs. my family is so practical. there isn't really any room for whimsy, for romance, for despair or fantasy or living in your head. there is no allowance for lyricism, no propensity for fantasy. in this book..... the sister, the older sister, she is plagued by the pain of existentialism, and in a family that is no stranger to this - "14 out of 16 cousins succumbing to suicide".... there is an understanding, a respect for how the reality of reality can so get on top of and consume people. and it turns - the narrator is the non-suicidal sister, the keeping it together, visiting, rescuing sister. she stays by her sisters side throughout (so far anyway - i have not finished the book yet).. she doesn't give up, turn away, just soak into white houses heteronormative safe fuelled by denial and promoting a life that is full of love and bliss and very untrue make me want to vomit paleo all bran fucking muffin into my mouth life and ignore her sister, ignore the reality of how she once actually experienced emotion and empathy hang on. hang on she doesn't turn to that, but she does get angry. hisses at her throat numbed by bleach sister "how dare you, how can you do this to me" she gets angry, hurt, she fully embraces and realises the own SHIT in her life, that she too is suffering and hurt and just barely keeping it together - ah fuck i don't know what i'm trying to say the book has me weeping on trams. tears streaming down my face, such incredible depictions of what it is to want to die. that is so fucking dear and close to my heart, it is so..... well, it IS my heart. not now. only just, only barely, only courtesy of distraction and fucking opiates. - it makes me want to fucking scream at her. i messaged her, about the book, she doesn't get it, i wanted to talk to her, i guess really i don't want to talk to her, ever (it feels like) but i tell myself we are family and will grow and get over it and one day she'll get back to who she was, she'll get back to feeling and being open and real and not full of fucking falsities? it's so hilarious because she won't talk to anyone else in my family for the exact reasons i don't want to talk to her. i think she's FULL OF SHIT. i don't believe a fucking word out of her mouth. oh and it, to bring it back, it was my own weaknesses, my stints in hospital, my fucking flip outs and then going to her house to recuperate and starting to heal but not within the very strict guidelines that she lives by and now she thinks i am just..... well, now she has given up on me. i am not of her world so i may not be of any world, i am dead to her, useless garbage, not a good story to her friends in the neighbourhood, not an inspirational quote for fucking facebook. it has become very apparent, the more that i grow into myself and the more i become able to define my own wants, desires and my own personal rules that i wish to abide by, my own gospel, my own values and preoccupations.... as they do not match hers, and don't even fall within her boundaries of "alternative" acceptance, i am not welcome in her life. it actually makes me scared for the young people in her orbit because her influence on me, her pushing onto me her ideals and ideas of healthy living that i tried to live up to until i realised they conflicted with my own heart, and the way that she did it which was so "my way or the guilt and shame and emotional manipulation highway" and how hard it was to get off that fucking road enough enough ENOUGH for tonight 10:01 p.m. - 2015-03-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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