In hiding...evermore

It is amazing, when I look back at yesterday, how good I’ve becomen at hiding.
I can totally repress my problems and troubles to a place deeply hidden, so I can have fun with people. Eline asked me wheter it wasn’t hard to see Jan again. She told me she still is a wreck for three days if she sees her ex.
I told her ofcourse it was hard, but that I didn’t let it get to me. I don’t. The only thing I found that is able to break through was music. The Florin and Firkin played Enya, from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. The same song I’ve played a hundred times since Marjolein’s attempt and the break-up.
The song, it punched through my walls of selfdefence, dug up the emotions I buried so deep inside, and tried to unleash them into my face. But I pushed them back. Kicked the dirt and stamped the earth so they would stay down for a few more hours.

Right now, as I’m typing this, I realise it’s not getting through. But the cd I am playing is almost to an end and Enya is almost on. Just one more song. At times like these I loathe my realistic logical side, being able to completely ignore the tumbling burst to a point, where I can no longer feel them, as if they aren’t there anymore.

But they’re there, and they will come out soon. They must, they have to.
I will have to talk to Maarten tomorrow, because he’s my mentor. I haven’t spoken to him about the suicide-attempt of my roommate yet. I think that too is a form of denial. I’m not telling my school what a wreck my house is, because it’s easier, I don’t have to cope, think about it, process the emotions nor cry.

I can make myself cry about it. I just have to put on the right music, and sit down. But it’s not crying from the bottom of my heart. It’s not really crying, it’s superfluous. Not real. Not helping. An illusion of what it will be like when I really let it come out.

Right now I feel I can only let the things really out by meditation. The last time I meditated I recalled Marjolein’s face when I had just rescued her. The anger, hurt, disbelief. It was hard.
I think it will take a lot of time until I can process everything I ever buried. The whole graveyard.

“May it be, when darkness falls, your heart will be true” - Enya

Quiet little Sunday

What did I really do today? Well, not really much. I put my new plants in the window, where they enjoyed the light. My room is quite dark because of the blinds. But today I hauled them up, they’re quite heavy, and I enjoyed the bit of extra light that granted me.

I had breakfast around threeish I think it was. And I drew an elven woman today. She looks okay, she reminds me of me, somewhere. The shadings on her face are...well...interesting. I’m planning on drawing someone with light only from below or above soon. Maybe tonight, I have to see when I’m in for it. I’m also trying out new forms of shading.

Why am I just typing these trivia in here, whilst this morning I was on the verge of crying for the happening things? I’m actually pushing it all back again.
I was staring out of my window, drinking tea. I think that was a bit of the aftershock in combination with the rest my schedule and agenda are finally granting me. I think I will again. Just...make some tea and stare at the sun shining on the wet asphalt. Cars going by. At times like these I would like to be on the tenth floor. Just sitting and watching life from a distance. Which actually just is a bit of confirmation that in that moment you feel like I feel right now, and you are sitting there, just watching and drinking tea, you really aren’t that much a part of that life. You’re not really involved, you’re not really there.

Comme ci, je n’existe pas.* Khaled sang in his song Aisha.

I turned on the gas today, just to smell it. Not to burn it, not to try and commit suicide.
Just to smell it. It nauseated me. But at least I felt it. I felt more when I smelled the gas, then now. Numb. A vague throbbing pain in deep forgotton waters. Not happy. Not sad. Not anything. Not even nauseated anymore. Indescribable.

I need a hug and tea. Joey? Jooooooeeeeeyyyy? Where are you? On my bed, where else would a teddybear be?! I think a movie and bedtime is good now.

* Comme ci, je n’existe pas. - Like his, I don’t exist.