12·08·01 Dawn

08-DEC-2001 05:00
I depend on you
For the wings of life
And the air that you move...
« Our Lady Peace, "Made To Heal" »

A while ago I was sitting in the Wedge with Lindsay, and she asked me if there was anything she could do to make me feel better. And I told her, get into a life-threatening situation so that I could take her place. Was I being serious? At the time, yes. I'd said a while before that I'd like to sacrifice myself for the good of those I cared about. I want a movie-like ending, where whenever the wind blows a certain way they remember my heroic sacrifice and feel warmed inside. And I'd always be with them, in their heart[s].

But it's not going to happen. Because... a) I'd prefer it if the people I cared about stayed safe all the time. And 2) Life isn't the movies. Perhaps I'd die, and they'd remember it and know that I loved them. But my voice isn't going to speak to them through the wind. And eventually, their lives would reach some kind of normalcy.

A couple hours ago I felt worthless. And not just worthless. I felt I had negative worth. That all I was was a drain on resources, with no positive contribution to the world. But I don't feel that way now. Lindsay said that without me, she would be very sad. And for once, I took it seriously. Maybe it was the tone of voice she used... or perhaps it was something else. But I knew I wanted to stay at WPI. And not transfer. Or drop out. Or flunk out. Or just stay in Worcester somehow.

And we both agreed that it was much better now that we were talking to each other again. Much, much better...

Now, sitting at my desk, I'm thinking about the possible positive impacts I've had on others' lives. Granted, there are people whose lives I haven't exactly helped, those whose lives would have been significantly better had they never met me. I've got specific examples. But those are for another time.

So what do I want to do in life now? I want to find my purpose. Perhaps I have no purpose but to die. Perhaps I'll cure some disease. I have to believe that our lives are scripted. That's all the motivation I have. I have to maintain hope that my continued existence will impact someone's life for the better.

I'm going to go to the West Street House on Monday. To seek the help of a professional. Maybe drugs can help me. My aversion to psychiatrists was due, simply put, to personal pride. But I'm trying to put that aside. Defective people like myself can still benefit society. We just need a bit of help to be functional.

And I'm going to talk to my parents sometime about direction. And whether higher education is really for me. And what they think I should do with myself, clueless about where to go as I am. Whether they should waste their hard-earned money on me, or do something for themselves. Because right now, I think of them working long hours to support not only themselves, but my live-at-home, 23-year-old sister, as well as my own unmotivated college student ass. And I cry. Sometimes it's weeping, sometimes it's just internal. But I feel sad about it.

12·08·01 Afternoon

08-DEC-2001 15:00
{img} Lamentation{img} Juxtaposition{img} Catharsis