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Funny new word of the day (made up accidentally in an email to Zeph): AUTO-PASTED. (It sounds so German. Say it like "Autobahn.")

Cool New Shirt of the Day: SECRET SPLASHY (This shirt really creeps me out--"Oh, look out for his 'secret splashy'!")

I was at Niigawa station on Sunday evening and there were all these old O-jii-chans running around and one (about 65 years old or so) came up to me and said, "Are you French?" and I laughed and said, "No, I'm from America." To which he smoothly replied, "You....Japanese....happy? Happy? Yes? Happy? Japanese happy?" I think he meant, "Are you happy, living here in Japan?" so I said, "Yes, I'm happy here," and he repeated, "Oh, happy? Yes?" and I gave him a thumbs-up and he gave me a thumbs-up and wandered off happily to talk more with his happy old Japanese friends.

I've noticed that, thinking back on people (friends or not) that I used to know, I get hit with this sense of, "Oh, well, they never got in touch with me after graduation (high school) and so I know they never really liked me and I really wanted them to like me, I really, really did, and I spent every waking moment wondering if they cared, if I was cool enough, if they even remember my name or my face, and I bet they didn't/don't and I really mean nothing in the grand scheme of things, do I?"

Which is strange, because when I think of people now, whether or not they like me doesn't enter into the equation at all.

Being ugly as shit in middle school (and the subsequent teasing and bullying I received for it) as well as being REALLY emotionally unstable and vunerable scarred me a lot more than I ever realized before. Although the ugliness and emotional instability got much, much better in high school, I was still acting under the same principles that I had followed during middle school. I desperately wanted people to love/worship/accept/think of/look at/want/give a rat's ass about/respect ME. I was ugly and gross and hated myself; at the same time, I had a really huge ego. Which is just weird. I love/loathed myself every waking/sleeping moment of every day/night.

I love the movie "Never Been Kissed" because Josie Grossie is WHAT I LOOKED LIKE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL--only grosser. And, like Drew Barrymore's character, I sort of went through this "I'm not Josie Grossie anymore" transition. Every once in a while, I go through this phase where I wonder (in horror) if people find me disgusting/ugly/stupid/__________[enter gross adjective here]. And yet I have this swelling ego. I really, truly think the world of myself.

Which is just bizarre.

And also makes me wonder if other people feel the same way I do about things. Which I'm sure they do. So if anybody is bummed 'cuz I never called them after graduation: I feel the same way. (Aka, "I understand how you feel," not, "Mwa-ha-haaaa, you loser.")

For those of you who interacted with me this summer, many, many apologies. I changed medication (which meant that for a LARGE period of the summer, I basically wans't on anything at all), and I discovered, much to my chagrin, that my depression is actually WORSE now than it ever was in middle/high school. Which is amazing, because I used to cut myself just to pinpoint the pain, to make it physical, comprehensible in high school. And because I loathed myself. (Later, I would love myself for braving my own wrath. More weirdnesses.) I starved myself because 1) my head was all whacked-up and I thought I was fat (I didn't even KNOW fat, at the time) and 2) something as gross and despicable as me didn't deserve to eat. People don't go out and purposely feed fungus, do they? Same principle. (Don't preach at me: I'm over it now!)

This summer, there were ONLY TWO things that kept me from hurting/killing myself. The first thing was Mary's death. I had always had head-knowledge of the pain others suffer when somebody commits suicide, but now I have heart-knowledge. I was really amazed, too, by how on how wide a scale people are affected by a single suicide. When I think to myself, "Oh, I don't have any friends," I change it around and say, "If I killed myself, how many people would come to the funeral?" Try it: the second answer is probably more than you realize.

The other thing was that I knew that eventually the pain would go away. That eventually the medication would work and I wouldn't be suffering anymore. But it took so long to work that I started to wonder if I had ever been happy. I honestly started to doubt that I had ever known happiness. That I had ever been healthy. That's how sick depression is.

So I was a raving nightmare this summer. But I'm better now (thank goodness). It's still a mystery to me how I managed to stay alive this summer, I was in so much pain. But I'm okay now. ^_^

Somehow, the title of this entry doesn't seem to fit anymore....


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Dec. 10th, 2003 08:16 am (UTC)
Mary's death makes me question everything, all the time. I feel like i can't trust people to be okay anymore, i want to check in on everyone constantly.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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