Friday, April 22, 2011

Twelfth Post.

It's not right.
What's not right?
What I've been doing.
What have you been doing?
Delaying everything.
What do you mean?
I keep posting unnecessary things here, trying to keep some form of normalcy. It's proving to not be as effective as I hoped it would. I thought by applying my usual mental ranting about my dull life that things wouldn't be as out of the ordinary. I live by out of the ordinary, though. The sudden change in behavior is unbecoming of me, and when I see my reflection I desire nothing more but to punch it in the face, watch all the pieces sprinkle down. Maybe then there would be nothing less that was unlike me.

I can't remember much of my past. I know the basics of what people have told me, I know some spotty things, a majority of the information on who I was comes from some of my old items or just the descriptions people have given me. I've heard I was loyal to the people I cared about, that I defended them and protected them like some bodyguard. It's a trait I still have today, but one that has diminished greatly to being just for kin a majority of the time. What bothers me is when I look at my reflection now I see that while I work to defend my family I lack any care to defend myself. Whatever happened in the past drained my desire to fight back. Don't get me wrong, I'll cut anything that threatens my survival, it's more of the idea, stepping forward towards trouble rather than staying back to watch it that has changed.

I accomplished something this week and when I was congratulated by the few people I told or that knew about it I felt barely anything. I appreciate their thanks. But telling me their proud of me... I felt nothing. I made myself happy about it, putting positives over the negatives. Yet, they had no effect on me. I suppose it is good to not be dependent on another for their words, but it is also not all that great that the people I care most about I cannot feel anything for when they congratulate me. Appreciation, it seems to be the farthest it ever goes.

It's hard to describe feeling so little. I've adapted to it, I've made masks not to trick others, per-say, but to slide into the shoes of how I would feel to certain emotions if it were possible. This sounds like a load of shit, probably. That's fine, people who feel normally say those that cannot are either Sociopaths or just depressed. I am neither. The latter of which especially. I cannot rely on others on whether or not I felt anything as I can. Recovering old memories is what is needed. From what I can gather I felt something, more than what I do now, at least. The pictures and old sports trophies, I did have pride in what I did. Now my pride is limited to two things, my art/writing and psychology studies. Yet when acknowledged on them by another I lack in caring over their replies. Again, it's all appreciation.

I've gone through long transitions since the incident in my youth. I spent time depressed as a child, couple years later I felt anger, which lasted the longest. I mellowed out into this, my masks worked better without pent up frustrations or a nagging sorrow attached. I know I am not depressed because I know what it is like to feel that way. This is not it. This is different. This is just something that's been around for a long time.

Paranoia. It is the strongest feeling I have. All the little ones that come with it, fear, concern, frustration. Angry, spite, rage, hate, all there. Sadness, not as strong, I haven't acted upon any sadness I have felt in a long time. It was always directed to helping ensure those around me weren't sad in those times. I became used to swallowing every emotion it would seem now that I lack them. What of love, though? I love my family, at least, my immediate family. Outside of them there are few whom I care as much for or close to it. By few I mean literally, few. I lack any relationships greater than friendship due to my lack of interest in others, not because of lack of trust, merely lack of interest. Romance itself is something I know, lust and the works as well. They are all fine and dandy, but have little to no desire to act upon them weighs heavily. My fellows around me do not understand how someone can have no motivation to find someone to settle down with, male or female. I laugh at them for thinking I need a mate to make me happy. If that is the state of mind people have now it's rather sad.

I've been independent even around others. At an early age, it would seem at least from what I am finding, that I severed ties that would affect me. I defended people, but if it was in reverse where I needed defending I made sure none would notice. I didn't want to be protected as a child even, which concerns me now that I have learned this. There was a change in me as a child, something that transitioned. At those ages nothing occurred that could have altered it, which means an outside event had taken place that I no longer remember.

This bothers me. I feel incompetent not being able to solve myself so quickly. I know myself for what is there now, yet those missing pieces are hindering a full profile. It hinders me. I do not like when things hinder me.

The trail I am on is starting to spark, I'm watching, waiting for it to catch on fire.

Information is starting to come together, I am going to look through this town's archives next week if I can. I have complied the information from people, now it's time to look at the records. Normally I would have done the reverse to test people but my schedule is not being kind. I have to work with I have which is people first, getting to the location second. Weather hasn't been kind either on the days I am free to go exploring into the woods and the brook. If something is there it better be waterproof or a bit higher off the ground.

At this point furthering information seems to be the only path to take. Mr. Sunshine has yet to approach directly but that doesn't mean he hasn't been around. I've seen him just standing out there for hours on end. His outline shows at night when he's on the front porch, beneath the porch light. He hasn't come into my room yet, it's been a while. But that could also be because I tore the place apart and there isn't anywhere he can walk around without making noise. Heh. Upstairs I hear him, in the basement, back in the kitchen as well. The easy access points of this flawed house. I'm starting to think that his actions might not be out of hate, or just out of it. He's wanting me to look into my past for something personal, not to mention there is a lot I don't remember. So what if he is a piece that I don't remember?

Would that not be a valid reason as to why I have yet to be killed? Maybe learning what I am meant to be looking forward will help reveal who hides beneath the mask. Perhaps even more importantly: Why?

I'll stop pretending things are going to stay the same when they have already started changing.
Next post will have information, be it from the people, what I know myself, or from the archives. The latter meaning I would have already sorted everything out since I got there.

Stay safe,


  1. It is so eerie the things we have in common, from our determination to defend others, to our lack of interest in how others see us or their accolades for our accomplishments. We could be family, though we don't even have the same ethnic backgrounds let alone any shared history.

    I would say taking pride in your own achievements (writing and psychology) is good enough and to build on that, but I know how unsatisfying it can be to have niggling little doubts about yourself... why you are the way you are and what the blank patches mean.

    Just be careful.

  2. Indeed, but it works for the two of us at least, especially with our goals. Thank you, I appreciate your advice. You be careful too.

  3. I know this is from... over a month ago, but I thought I'd weigh in a bit, since I'm reading it.
    The changes you mention sound a lot like the sort of things that happen to a kid who is abused, molested, or heavily bullied. Not that I'm saying you were, but you might check into it.
    Don't ask me how I know.
    I'm not a psych student, just have practical experience dealing with this shit in other people.