April 1998
It ended again on April 12 after a relapse of violence. That does not mean she's a violent person anymore, four months without violence is good evidence that she is not. But it brought back memories, and the echoes from last semester were loud and frightening. And intolerable. In these four months, our relationship was growing stronger and we learned to get through our difficulties and to work out problems, but there is no "working out" violence.
But oddly, I don't think it's the violence that broke us up. It's just a footnote. In the aftermath, we've dredged up much deeper problems which makes our separation necessary. The big underlying problem is that there is no trust between us. Trying to build a relationship knowing there is no basis of trust is like building a house with a severely cracked foundation on a soggy hillside.
The lack of trust played itself out when she threw my belongings out of her room, and then, later, once again, playing out her jealousies towards Madoka; Madoka who I can no longer consider an active part of my life because of Josephine's insipid, unfounded jealousies.
From day one she had no reason to be jealous, and any reason that could have grown, even unreasonably, I tried to dispel to the best of my ability, even by sacrificing my relationship with Madoka. Josephine has burnt my friendship with Madoka to ashes and her imagination is still able to conjure some mystical connection between me and her.
Hmm. Mystical? Putting it that way, maybe she's right. Maybe there is a connection between Madoka and me from previous lives, and there's something about Josephine that makes her highly perceptive to that connection and she can sense it, driving her to jealousy. It has betrayed her reality, because whatever connection there may be between Madoka and me, it's latent.
As for throwing my things out of her room and dumping it all on the floor, it was a tiny bit of trust we had that brought me to her room every night to sleep, even when there was tension between us. If she can throw my stuff out, there is no trust anymore to bring me to her room. At any point she can throw my stuff out, and why would I keep going back just to be thrown out.
No trust is the foundation of our separation, the catalyst was violence. In between the two was a strong current of un-appreciation and dissatisfaction that made our separation inevitable. I feel unappreciated, she feels dissatisfied. She said in so many words that she wasn't satisfied with our relationship. It wasn't enough, I don't give her enough time or attention. When I give everything I can to the relationship, trying not to sacrifice my needs to the point of resenting her, I feel very unappreciated when she says it isn't enough.
It's not like I was sitting back and floating through the relationship, taking it for all I can get and taking it for granted. She was the basis of my time and out of it I cut out chunks of time to do the things I needed and wanted to do. When time was up, it was always back to her. I loved the time with her, if this relationship could work, I would want it to work, I want the relationship, but I can't look back on it and list the things I "should have" done.
I did all the things I should have, and even if music, running, and photography didn't mean that much to me and I could have shaved off time from those activities, she kept telling me that I shouldn't shave time off and that I should do what I wanted to. It was a lose-lose situation. Either I don't have time for my activities or she's unsatisfied.
Why would I ever go back to the ruins of our relationship? It was finished in December. The temple crumbled, and maybe at that time we could have saved something. But several months after the toppling, the dust has settled, the stones were strewn, and weeds are coming up through the cracks. You can't build on ruins. You would have to clear everything away and start from nothing, and as hard as it was to get our relationship where it was when it fell apart, I don't think I would want to go through that again. Might as well start building somewhere else, leave the ruins alone.
So no, upon the declaration that the relationship is finished, I won't go back to it, not with all my heart at least. It was finished in December, and I went back to it and it still didn't work. It worked for a little while because she changed, and people can change, but they can't change that much. That much has been shown.
Showing posts with label trust. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trust. Show all posts
Thursday, April 30, 1998
Tuesday, April 30, 1996
1347 La Loma, Berkeley
April 1996
I've decided that Amina's birthday will do just fine.
I've reached the end of my rope. No hope left for anything. There are things that I guess I should sum up. There are probably things that are impossible to get other people to understand; I don't care about those things anymore, they don't matter.
Half of my trust left with Amina, the rest of it went with Shiho. I have no trust left. How can I live without trust? I can't imagine getting close to anyone, letting anyone get close to me, or being intimate with anyone in any way. Any defenses, precautions, or safeguards I can imagine to determine who I can trust or get close to, Amina and Shiho went right through them. I've gotten so desensitized that even if someone with potential appeared in my life, that wouldn't stop me. I won't keep living for hope, hoping that potential might be something substantive.
My life has no special value to me or anyone. My dying will pass like clouds and that is just the way I want it to be. I imagine how I would feel if certain people died, and I feel nothing. That's the kind of person I am - cold and unfeeling. Why should people extend feelings towards me that I wouldn't extend to them.
***********************************
I auditioned for a band. An Asian American band. What the fuck is wrong with me? They would be the perfect vehicle for me. I liked their vibe, the writing immediately caught my ear, I liked what they were doing and how they sounded and I thought I could add to their sound. But when they mentioned they want complete dedication, that they rehearse three or four times a week and are thinking in the long term of recording, marketing, and touring, what did I do? I balked.
Why did I hesitate? Am I dead? Am I real? If they want me to join, shouldn't they make me want to drop law school in a second if demanded? Yes! What is wrong with me? I'm too scared to deserve to live; too scared to go for life and living; too scared to chase dreams and therefore live. If I don't jump at an opportunity like this, then I'm not cut out for music. And if I'm not cut out for music, what am I doing alive?
***********************************
I told Vikki that I was going to kill myself and like an idiot, she went and told everybody. Fucking idiot. What incredible lows she has reached. It says so much of her character - like she has none. Fortunately, it was easy to use Vikki's own lack of credibility to cover my tracks.
What did she think she was doing? Did she think she was going up against me? Has she no conception that she doesn't stand a chance? That I will rip her to shreds? I can diffuse a suicide scare far more easily than she can drum one up and I can ravage her credibility in the process. Pitiful idiot.
I don't have to fuck with her mind anymore, the bare facts of this situation will fuck with it enough. I tell her I'm going to kill myself, she panics and tells everyone, I diffuse the situation and make her look like an idiot, and then I go do it anyway. That's pretty harsh.
Nobuko's reaction was actually pretty funny. She's been absent from my life for some months, and then all of a sudden she appears at my door dripping with concern. Then once I convince her that Vikki was twisting my words with her own neuroticism, she goes 'OK' and promptly disappears. I'm exaggerating, though. It wasn't quite like that and I appreciate Nobuko's concern. We're just not that close anymore. We're not close enough to care.
Actually, Vikki did me a big favor. She put everyone on notice that something is up. Even if I did diffuse the scare, the idea was pressed into peoples' minds. So when it does happen, it won't be a total surprise. The idea had been there. She has unwittingly turned this into an opportunity that I shouldn't pass up.
I can't wait to do it; to leave this existence behind; to find out what's next. I've tried. I've tried to be good, I've tried to find the truth, I've tried to live with integrity and be true to myself. I don't know if I've been successful, but I've tried. I've just come to the end of my rope and gone as far as I can with the limited tools I have.
Not that I think any future life is going to be any easier. By nature, it's going to be more difficult following a lifetime that ended in suicide. All I need is a lifetime in which every card in the deck isn't so perfectly stacked against me. I just need one fault in the challenges I will face to let my strength pull me through and not kill myself.
What could have happened to make me change my mind? So many things. None of them happened. No, things won't be any easier. But I need to clean this slate. I need to clear my mind and find a way to start over. I need help. I hope I can get it.
***********************************
I love Amina. I loved her from the moment I saw her and cherish all the memories I still have of us when we were together. If only she could have loved me back. But that love is gone. I still have it, the feelings are still here, but it's not alive anymore. I'm not void of love or unable to love, but Amina took a lot with her, more than she knows.
***********************************
Another piece of the puzzle emerged today. Well, first of all, these pieces aren't necessarily facts. I see them as signs, but I do not rule out the possibility that they are arbitrary factors that I'm reading into because I'm looking for them. Such as my parents pushing me to be a lawyer when lawyers have the highest rate of suicide among the professions. And my inexplicable attraction to Japan; a country that historically has been socially tolerant of suicide.
I was thinking back to eight years ago when I got stuck into a mental hospital because people thought I was suicidal. I wanted to do it back then, it's true. Through the years I haven't thought about it because after I got sent to the hospitals, my main goal was to get out. To get out, I had to convince people I wasn't suicidal. To convince people that I wasn't suicidal, I had to convince myself that I wasn't suicidal and argue my case. So I did. I talked and spun and made it perfectly logical how absurd it was to think I was truly suicidal. I covered my tracks and I covered my ass and it worked. I was convinced.
So what happened that cold night in February 1988 when they took me away? I had already cut my face open a few days prior, and I was already on notice that any expression of suicide would get me suspended. When I ran out of the dorm that night, it was my full intention to do it, I had reached, briefly, 100% commitment. The problem was that there was a time lapse between hitting 100% commitment and being able to execute my plan. The nature of the plan demanded that there be a time lapse.
I ran out of the dorm and set off north on Route 58 towards Lake Erie. Lake Erie, a several hours walk away is my guess. I don't know how long I walked, but eventually I stopped, turned around, and returned to Oberlin hours later; I couldn't go through with it. I vaguely remember the point where I turned around. The sky above me was pinkish-orange because the sky is always light when there is snow on the ground and clouds in the sky to reflect any light there may be. There were very few street lights, so the light was reflected from neighboring towns. I remember an empty house silhouetted, the sky wide and open reaching to all horizons. Ohio is flat.
I don't remember the walk back. I only remember that when I got back to Oberlin, I didn't go to the dorm, I went to Dascomb and called Darcy from the campus phone there. She told me it was safe to come back to the dorm. When I got there, they were waiting for me. I had been betrayed. They packed a few necessities and a few hours later I was driven by campus security to St. Joseph's hospital in Lorain, and admitted to Psychiatric Ward 4-D.
The piece of the puzzle? The piece of the puzzle is that I was heading towards Lake Erie. I don't remember ever really planning it in detail, that is just where I was headed - to the water. Today I have everything planned in detail, and it's still water, of course it's water! But the connection to that past time is something I'm reading into. Cat somehow knows that it will have something to do with the beach. I don't know where she got that from, but it was amazing.
***********************************
People don't seem to realize that my life or death is not up for discussion. If I want to discuss it, I don't want to in order to find a reason not to do it. I don't want anyone to talk me out of it. I just want to discuss it intelligently, to make sure I know what I'm doing. To make sure I've thought of everything I need to and be given the credit that I have. In the end, it's still my decision.
If there was a time to discuss it, it was eight years ago. I don't want to talk anymore. I don't want therapy, I don't want people to assume that it's wrong and I shouldn't do it. My reality in this life has been formed the way it has and I don't make the same assumptions about life that everyone else makes. Especially about life.
It was smooth how I covered my tracks when Vikki shot her mouth off. It was a lot easier than it was eight years ago, when I was able to convince all the nurses in the hospital that the best thing for me was to go back to school. It was only because of Dean Cooper who, to the best of my figuring, made it clear to my doctor that I was not to come back that semester.
I learned early how to cover my tracks. Like in the ninth grade when I cut my arm so deep that I couldn't hide it and was suspended for a few days. A few weeks later, the family got a big laugh over the whole incident when I pointed out that if I was trying to kill myself, I would have cut along my veins and not across. Little did they know that I had just heard that day that the proper way to slash wrists was along the vein, and not across. I had no idea.
But I don't even know what was going through my mind that morning. It wasn't my first cut, I had been at it for several months at least. It was supposed to be a casual cut, but I didn't know that the knife I was using had been sharpened beyond what I had expected. It was before school. I remember my shock when I dropped the blade down on my arm and my skin split wide open and it took a moment for the blood to start flowing out. I still have the same reaction when I cut particularly deep: a moment of shock, a gasp, relax. I had to go to school, though, so I slapped a paper bandage on my arm and ran off to school.
It bled all day, then finally someone told the school nurse that someone was bleeding really bad. I got caught and was hauled off to the nurse's office. The 'rents were informed, I was suspended until a psychiatrist would sign off that I wasn't suicidal. Whatever.
***********************************
I've been so anti-social. I just have nothing to say to anyone anymore and conversations always run down because I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm just not good company to anyone these days. What I have to express, I don't want to or don't know how to, and otherwise I have nothing to express. I'm not special to anyone. I don't think I would even believe it if someone came across as convincing that I am.
A year ago I thought Nobuko was a really special friend, and I thought that if problems arose, we could confront and discuss them to an end. Now I don't care enough about our friendship to put the effort into a confrontation and discussion. Cat is special now.
It was less than a year ago that I was ready to kill myself and fully planning on it. Everything was winding down at the same time, the semester ended, I finished my demo, did Bay to Breakers, broke up with joy, and SHAG completed its performances. The timing was perfect, it would have been a clean break if I left at that point. But then I was offered to move into this house, and that was the only reason why I didn't go through with it. But being offered to move in with Lisa and Nobuko had its own symbolism - renewal, re-start.
There is no such convergence of events now, but the feeling is stronger than ever before. I desperately don't want to be here anymore, I want to leave and move on and find what's next. I've exhausted all my options. Family is not going to change. I've given family so many chances that I've officially attained idiot status. People are a major disappointment; Amina, Shiho, friends, nothing special, nothing real. And music? The band I auditioned for showed me what I'm made of. I'm not hungry enough.
What else is there that would keep me alive, that I should live for? Remove family, relationships, friends, and music, and all I'm left with is an ordinary life, not worth living. Nothing here. No one home.
***********************************
If I get into that band, I'll give it a shot and it will become priority over everything else, including law school. I will even move back to San Francisco to give it a chance. So I don't feel as disturbed at my balking at an opportunity. I'm not afraid about facing life and taking risks. What does this mean regarding killing myself? All this would have to assume I won't, but I don't know that I won't. It's just that I don't know that I will.
***********************************
The band asked me to join. I don't know if that's enough for me to say I want to live, I hope not, but I'll give this a try. I'll still do it someday, maybe sooner, maybe later, but it's not imminent. It's suspended. No more dates set, no more waiting periods.
There was something compelling about getting into the band. They sounded enthusiastic about having me aboard, and talked about gigging and doing tours and recording, and they are even willing to accommodate my schedule. I'm giving it a chance and if it doesn't work, I can still leave. If it does work, I'm willing to take a leave of absence or quit school altogether. I'm willing.
I look to the future and I'm thinking that I should move back to San Francisco after our lease is up at this house. The rehearsal space is in Bayview-Hunter's Point, and the commute from Berkeley is hell. I'll move in wherever I can, since I won't have to worry about noise since all my equipment will go into the rehearsal space. I can move in with other people. And my car, I can return it to New Jersey. I don't need it. If they want it, they can have it. They can come get it. As long as they are out of my life.
As for friends, I don't know about Cat, but once I move out of here, it's the end of my acquaintances with Nobuko and Vikki. When we stop being housemates, we won't go back to being friends. That's just the way it is.
***********************************
The band has rehearsed several times and I don't feel any better about my decision. I haven't lived a day that made me glad that I'm still alive. I'm not sure I'm fitting in with the band that well. They are a different culture. After my initial audition, they haven't been easily satisfied with what I've been playing, and neither have they been clear on what they want. So it's kind of frustrating. I'm over-trained for them. I'm more music, and they're more attitude. But what are we doing? Are we doing music, or are we posing? Good question.
As for killing myself, I'm still looking at the Summer, July or August. No more date-setting, though. Next time I decide that my life is over, I'm just going to do it without a waiting period. I still don't feel like getting out of bed every morning. It's not that I'm depressed about life, I just affirmatively want to leave it.
If my life actually does start getting better and I feel good about it overall, then that is a clear indication that I should go ahead and do it. Then I'll know for sure I'm not doing it out of depression and that I'm doing it as objectively as possible, because it is against my interest. It's just what I want to do.
I've decided that Amina's birthday will do just fine.
I've reached the end of my rope. No hope left for anything. There are things that I guess I should sum up. There are probably things that are impossible to get other people to understand; I don't care about those things anymore, they don't matter.
Half of my trust left with Amina, the rest of it went with Shiho. I have no trust left. How can I live without trust? I can't imagine getting close to anyone, letting anyone get close to me, or being intimate with anyone in any way. Any defenses, precautions, or safeguards I can imagine to determine who I can trust or get close to, Amina and Shiho went right through them. I've gotten so desensitized that even if someone with potential appeared in my life, that wouldn't stop me. I won't keep living for hope, hoping that potential might be something substantive.
My life has no special value to me or anyone. My dying will pass like clouds and that is just the way I want it to be. I imagine how I would feel if certain people died, and I feel nothing. That's the kind of person I am - cold and unfeeling. Why should people extend feelings towards me that I wouldn't extend to them.
***********************************
I auditioned for a band. An Asian American band. What the fuck is wrong with me? They would be the perfect vehicle for me. I liked their vibe, the writing immediately caught my ear, I liked what they were doing and how they sounded and I thought I could add to their sound. But when they mentioned they want complete dedication, that they rehearse three or four times a week and are thinking in the long term of recording, marketing, and touring, what did I do? I balked.
Why did I hesitate? Am I dead? Am I real? If they want me to join, shouldn't they make me want to drop law school in a second if demanded? Yes! What is wrong with me? I'm too scared to deserve to live; too scared to go for life and living; too scared to chase dreams and therefore live. If I don't jump at an opportunity like this, then I'm not cut out for music. And if I'm not cut out for music, what am I doing alive?
***********************************
I told Vikki that I was going to kill myself and like an idiot, she went and told everybody. Fucking idiot. What incredible lows she has reached. It says so much of her character - like she has none. Fortunately, it was easy to use Vikki's own lack of credibility to cover my tracks.
What did she think she was doing? Did she think she was going up against me? Has she no conception that she doesn't stand a chance? That I will rip her to shreds? I can diffuse a suicide scare far more easily than she can drum one up and I can ravage her credibility in the process. Pitiful idiot.
I don't have to fuck with her mind anymore, the bare facts of this situation will fuck with it enough. I tell her I'm going to kill myself, she panics and tells everyone, I diffuse the situation and make her look like an idiot, and then I go do it anyway. That's pretty harsh.
Nobuko's reaction was actually pretty funny. She's been absent from my life for some months, and then all of a sudden she appears at my door dripping with concern. Then once I convince her that Vikki was twisting my words with her own neuroticism, she goes 'OK' and promptly disappears. I'm exaggerating, though. It wasn't quite like that and I appreciate Nobuko's concern. We're just not that close anymore. We're not close enough to care.
Actually, Vikki did me a big favor. She put everyone on notice that something is up. Even if I did diffuse the scare, the idea was pressed into peoples' minds. So when it does happen, it won't be a total surprise. The idea had been there. She has unwittingly turned this into an opportunity that I shouldn't pass up.
I can't wait to do it; to leave this existence behind; to find out what's next. I've tried. I've tried to be good, I've tried to find the truth, I've tried to live with integrity and be true to myself. I don't know if I've been successful, but I've tried. I've just come to the end of my rope and gone as far as I can with the limited tools I have.
Not that I think any future life is going to be any easier. By nature, it's going to be more difficult following a lifetime that ended in suicide. All I need is a lifetime in which every card in the deck isn't so perfectly stacked against me. I just need one fault in the challenges I will face to let my strength pull me through and not kill myself.
What could have happened to make me change my mind? So many things. None of them happened. No, things won't be any easier. But I need to clean this slate. I need to clear my mind and find a way to start over. I need help. I hope I can get it.
***********************************
I love Amina. I loved her from the moment I saw her and cherish all the memories I still have of us when we were together. If only she could have loved me back. But that love is gone. I still have it, the feelings are still here, but it's not alive anymore. I'm not void of love or unable to love, but Amina took a lot with her, more than she knows.
***********************************
Another piece of the puzzle emerged today. Well, first of all, these pieces aren't necessarily facts. I see them as signs, but I do not rule out the possibility that they are arbitrary factors that I'm reading into because I'm looking for them. Such as my parents pushing me to be a lawyer when lawyers have the highest rate of suicide among the professions. And my inexplicable attraction to Japan; a country that historically has been socially tolerant of suicide.
I was thinking back to eight years ago when I got stuck into a mental hospital because people thought I was suicidal. I wanted to do it back then, it's true. Through the years I haven't thought about it because after I got sent to the hospitals, my main goal was to get out. To get out, I had to convince people I wasn't suicidal. To convince people that I wasn't suicidal, I had to convince myself that I wasn't suicidal and argue my case. So I did. I talked and spun and made it perfectly logical how absurd it was to think I was truly suicidal. I covered my tracks and I covered my ass and it worked. I was convinced.
So what happened that cold night in February 1988 when they took me away? I had already cut my face open a few days prior, and I was already on notice that any expression of suicide would get me suspended. When I ran out of the dorm that night, it was my full intention to do it, I had reached, briefly, 100% commitment. The problem was that there was a time lapse between hitting 100% commitment and being able to execute my plan. The nature of the plan demanded that there be a time lapse.
I ran out of the dorm and set off north on Route 58 towards Lake Erie. Lake Erie, a several hours walk away is my guess. I don't know how long I walked, but eventually I stopped, turned around, and returned to Oberlin hours later; I couldn't go through with it. I vaguely remember the point where I turned around. The sky above me was pinkish-orange because the sky is always light when there is snow on the ground and clouds in the sky to reflect any light there may be. There were very few street lights, so the light was reflected from neighboring towns. I remember an empty house silhouetted, the sky wide and open reaching to all horizons. Ohio is flat.
I don't remember the walk back. I only remember that when I got back to Oberlin, I didn't go to the dorm, I went to Dascomb and called Darcy from the campus phone there. She told me it was safe to come back to the dorm. When I got there, they were waiting for me. I had been betrayed. They packed a few necessities and a few hours later I was driven by campus security to St. Joseph's hospital in Lorain, and admitted to Psychiatric Ward 4-D.
The piece of the puzzle? The piece of the puzzle is that I was heading towards Lake Erie. I don't remember ever really planning it in detail, that is just where I was headed - to the water. Today I have everything planned in detail, and it's still water, of course it's water! But the connection to that past time is something I'm reading into. Cat somehow knows that it will have something to do with the beach. I don't know where she got that from, but it was amazing.
***********************************
People don't seem to realize that my life or death is not up for discussion. If I want to discuss it, I don't want to in order to find a reason not to do it. I don't want anyone to talk me out of it. I just want to discuss it intelligently, to make sure I know what I'm doing. To make sure I've thought of everything I need to and be given the credit that I have. In the end, it's still my decision.
If there was a time to discuss it, it was eight years ago. I don't want to talk anymore. I don't want therapy, I don't want people to assume that it's wrong and I shouldn't do it. My reality in this life has been formed the way it has and I don't make the same assumptions about life that everyone else makes. Especially about life.
It was smooth how I covered my tracks when Vikki shot her mouth off. It was a lot easier than it was eight years ago, when I was able to convince all the nurses in the hospital that the best thing for me was to go back to school. It was only because of Dean Cooper who, to the best of my figuring, made it clear to my doctor that I was not to come back that semester.
I learned early how to cover my tracks. Like in the ninth grade when I cut my arm so deep that I couldn't hide it and was suspended for a few days. A few weeks later, the family got a big laugh over the whole incident when I pointed out that if I was trying to kill myself, I would have cut along my veins and not across. Little did they know that I had just heard that day that the proper way to slash wrists was along the vein, and not across. I had no idea.
But I don't even know what was going through my mind that morning. It wasn't my first cut, I had been at it for several months at least. It was supposed to be a casual cut, but I didn't know that the knife I was using had been sharpened beyond what I had expected. It was before school. I remember my shock when I dropped the blade down on my arm and my skin split wide open and it took a moment for the blood to start flowing out. I still have the same reaction when I cut particularly deep: a moment of shock, a gasp, relax. I had to go to school, though, so I slapped a paper bandage on my arm and ran off to school.
It bled all day, then finally someone told the school nurse that someone was bleeding really bad. I got caught and was hauled off to the nurse's office. The 'rents were informed, I was suspended until a psychiatrist would sign off that I wasn't suicidal. Whatever.
***********************************
I've been so anti-social. I just have nothing to say to anyone anymore and conversations always run down because I don't feel like talking anymore. I'm just not good company to anyone these days. What I have to express, I don't want to or don't know how to, and otherwise I have nothing to express. I'm not special to anyone. I don't think I would even believe it if someone came across as convincing that I am.
A year ago I thought Nobuko was a really special friend, and I thought that if problems arose, we could confront and discuss them to an end. Now I don't care enough about our friendship to put the effort into a confrontation and discussion. Cat is special now.
It was less than a year ago that I was ready to kill myself and fully planning on it. Everything was winding down at the same time, the semester ended, I finished my demo, did Bay to Breakers, broke up with joy, and SHAG completed its performances. The timing was perfect, it would have been a clean break if I left at that point. But then I was offered to move into this house, and that was the only reason why I didn't go through with it. But being offered to move in with Lisa and Nobuko had its own symbolism - renewal, re-start.
There is no such convergence of events now, but the feeling is stronger than ever before. I desperately don't want to be here anymore, I want to leave and move on and find what's next. I've exhausted all my options. Family is not going to change. I've given family so many chances that I've officially attained idiot status. People are a major disappointment; Amina, Shiho, friends, nothing special, nothing real. And music? The band I auditioned for showed me what I'm made of. I'm not hungry enough.
What else is there that would keep me alive, that I should live for? Remove family, relationships, friends, and music, and all I'm left with is an ordinary life, not worth living. Nothing here. No one home.
***********************************
If I get into that band, I'll give it a shot and it will become priority over everything else, including law school. I will even move back to San Francisco to give it a chance. So I don't feel as disturbed at my balking at an opportunity. I'm not afraid about facing life and taking risks. What does this mean regarding killing myself? All this would have to assume I won't, but I don't know that I won't. It's just that I don't know that I will.
***********************************
The band asked me to join. I don't know if that's enough for me to say I want to live, I hope not, but I'll give this a try. I'll still do it someday, maybe sooner, maybe later, but it's not imminent. It's suspended. No more dates set, no more waiting periods.
There was something compelling about getting into the band. They sounded enthusiastic about having me aboard, and talked about gigging and doing tours and recording, and they are even willing to accommodate my schedule. I'm giving it a chance and if it doesn't work, I can still leave. If it does work, I'm willing to take a leave of absence or quit school altogether. I'm willing.
I look to the future and I'm thinking that I should move back to San Francisco after our lease is up at this house. The rehearsal space is in Bayview-Hunter's Point, and the commute from Berkeley is hell. I'll move in wherever I can, since I won't have to worry about noise since all my equipment will go into the rehearsal space. I can move in with other people. And my car, I can return it to New Jersey. I don't need it. If they want it, they can have it. They can come get it. As long as they are out of my life.
As for friends, I don't know about Cat, but once I move out of here, it's the end of my acquaintances with Nobuko and Vikki. When we stop being housemates, we won't go back to being friends. That's just the way it is.
***********************************
The band has rehearsed several times and I don't feel any better about my decision. I haven't lived a day that made me glad that I'm still alive. I'm not sure I'm fitting in with the band that well. They are a different culture. After my initial audition, they haven't been easily satisfied with what I've been playing, and neither have they been clear on what they want. So it's kind of frustrating. I'm over-trained for them. I'm more music, and they're more attitude. But what are we doing? Are we doing music, or are we posing? Good question.
As for killing myself, I'm still looking at the Summer, July or August. No more date-setting, though. Next time I decide that my life is over, I'm just going to do it without a waiting period. I still don't feel like getting out of bed every morning. It's not that I'm depressed about life, I just affirmatively want to leave it.
If my life actually does start getting better and I feel good about it overall, then that is a clear indication that I should go ahead and do it. Then I'll know for sure I'm not doing it out of depression and that I'm doing it as objectively as possible, because it is against my interest. It's just what I want to do.
Sunday, March 31, 1996
1347 La Loma, Berkeley
March 1996
Diem had been getting my postcards. I wasn't sure whether she had or not. I don't know how many had to be forwarded to her since I don't know when she moved from Oberlin to Cleveland. She didn't feel that it was important to tell me I suppose.
For the past year she hasn't been saying anything in her very brief and sketchy letters, which never gave details and never told what she felt. And when she did mention her feelings, they felt glossed over as if to make everything seem fine.
So I wrote to her and told her our friendship was over. I told her where my life was and where I was in my life. I told her that I thought she had a lot of issues and hoped that she was dealing with them. I told her that I found life sad and people disappointing. I told her I loved her and called it quits because I wanted to end the friendship before it deteriorated into nothingness, with nothing good to remember.
I cited how I felt Shiho and I had become pen-pals in 1991 and how I wanted to break off all communications. Shiho meant so much to me that becoming pen-pals was too degrading to the meaning she had to me. But we didn't cut communications because Shiho didn't want to and we ultimately lost everything. Including the friendship and whatever meaning we had to our few memories. I didn't want that to happen with Diem.
I never found out what it was like between Diem and Amina after we broke up.
Ana Claire was just as easy. She called and got a cold response from me, and when she asked if I didn't want to talk to her, I told her not particularly. But that wasn't sad, and Ana Claire wasn't a disappointment. She was everything I thought she was and hoped she’d be, and in the end, that's all she was.
Feelings don't matter anymore. Neither does trust.
***********************************
Diem out, Ana Claire out, Luyen out. Luyen visited for five days because she's thinking of transferring to a college in the area. It did not go well. On her second night here, we got into a big discussion about “us” and “our” communication, and that discussion should never have happened. The assumptions, the gall, it was offensive and presumptuous. For someone who I hadn't seen for however long, she certainly took liberties about the things she felt she could say.
I can't even go into it, it was so appalling. I don't care about whatever she thought was a problem. It didn't deserve any discussion at all. If she has a problem with me, she can get the hell out, we're not that close anymore. What, is she living in a time warp? No one is going to have a problem with me and stay in my life anymore. I don't care about anyone's complaints about me. I am who I am and I'm not going to subject myself to criticism regarding who I am anymore. If anyone has a complaint, I'm the last person to whom they'd want to bring it.
It's almost laughable. I'm getting rid of people right and left, and she comes waltzing in accusing me of whatever and complaining about what is between us. Accusations? Get out. Complaints? Get out.
***********************************
I hate all this. I hate my life and I hate myself. I hate people and dealing with them. I hate walking down the street and seeing them. I try my best to keep my line of sight above everyone's heads so I don't have to look at people. I haven't done anything with my life and I have absolutely nothing to show for it except a lot of material possessions.
I don't care about anything. No more deep or in-depth discussions about anything with anyone. I'm just not interested. Politics, race, religion, injustice, inequality, civil rights, international relations; it's all talk and the world goes on the way it goes, and I can't even pay attention to my own needs. I'm not even listening to myself.
It's not better to burn out than fade away. I kind of like fading, slowly disappearing from peoples' lives, then remove any significance or presence I may have to them, then remove myself physically from their reality.
I told myself that I never want to feel this way again, that I wouldn't let myself. Well, here I am feeling this way again and I resolutely do not want to continue, to wait until things change. But what am I doing about it? Waiting until I'm 34? I don't like people or dealing with them, I can't communicate with anyone and no one knows what I'm about or where I'm coming from or where I am. It's as if I don't exist.
***********************************
I'm living week by week. I'm only living if there is something direct in the next week to live for. It started in February when I put an ad in the Express looking for musicians. Pathetic as it is, I only got one response - a Japanese-Filipino American drummer who's an ex-con. That's what I get? Is someone trying to tell me something? If someone's trying to tell me something, the message isn't being wasted. It's not even pathetic, it's genuinely funny!
That ad ran for three weeks, three weeks to endure. Then Luyen visited and I had to be here for that, then Madoka visited and that was another week. Then I put an ad in the Guardian to run three weeks, another three weeks bought. After that, let's see what keeps me here for another week. That will be the middle of April. On April 15, there will be a photo exhibit at school and I'm going to enter some photos. I can wait for that, too.
Mid-April? Amina's birthday? It's funny finally having a concrete plan. How long has this been coming? More than ten years?
As far back as I learned of a thing called suicide, it has meant something to me, a calling, a destiny. I've been suicidal all my life and never has it been completely gone. This isn't a recurring impulse that comes and goes, it is something that has always been here constantly as far back as I can remember.
***********************************
I wonder to myself what I would do if Amina called. I'd have an easier time if she sounded cheerful than if she sounded tentative or careful. I think I could tell her of the two loves I have for her. The human one, which is only a memory, which removed a good half of my trust. And the one that is beyond human, the one that would make it easy to be friends with her and to feel love towards her in that form. I don't know if I would decide to not kill myself if she called. I think it would depend on the circumstances. I would like to think that I would go right ahead with it regardless; having closed that gaping emotional wound she helped inflict.
***********************************
I can't begin to express how frustrating it is being human, being alive. Alive? I don't even know what that means. A study appeared in today's paper that tea and fruits have something in them which encourages the production of some kind of blood cell which is beneficial in preventing strokes.
I don't think I understand that impulse to control what our bodies do by controlling what goes into them. I understand a healthy diet to feel good, but to consume something so that certain chemical reactions happen which affects that which in turn helps prevent something as attenuated as strokes? That's just way too high maintenance. That's not being alive. If it takes too much thought to be alive, it isn't being alive.
I hate having to eat. I hate having to shower. I hate dealing with whatever is wrong with my skin which gives me a rash nightly. I hate body functions. I hate anything I need to do. I hate being contained in this skin; these defined borders of my existence which in reality is leaking away. I hate things I enjoy. I hate living. Not because it's miserable being alive, I can see how it doesn't have to be, I just don't like it.
I hate humanity and what it has done to this planet, to its people and cultures. I hate its values and what it emphasizes as important.
***********************************
I made contact sheets of two rolls of film that I shot from the end of February into March, and was discouraged by the results. None of the images grabbed me. It was all crap. I wondered if I should give up photography for a while, but I didn't want to join the line of people I've met who "used to do" photography. I don't want to feel like it's something I'm dabbling in and giving it up because it isn't making me feel good.
I only started doing photography a few months ago, what am I expecting of myself? That's no way to learn and grow if it's truly a way I want to express myself. There's so much more to photography than coming up with good prints. This was so basic when I started and was humble enough to not presume I could come up with good prints at all. I just need to go with these shots, pick the images I can remember why I shot them, and print those as best as I can.
Diem had been getting my postcards. I wasn't sure whether she had or not. I don't know how many had to be forwarded to her since I don't know when she moved from Oberlin to Cleveland. She didn't feel that it was important to tell me I suppose.
For the past year she hasn't been saying anything in her very brief and sketchy letters, which never gave details and never told what she felt. And when she did mention her feelings, they felt glossed over as if to make everything seem fine.
So I wrote to her and told her our friendship was over. I told her where my life was and where I was in my life. I told her that I thought she had a lot of issues and hoped that she was dealing with them. I told her that I found life sad and people disappointing. I told her I loved her and called it quits because I wanted to end the friendship before it deteriorated into nothingness, with nothing good to remember.
I cited how I felt Shiho and I had become pen-pals in 1991 and how I wanted to break off all communications. Shiho meant so much to me that becoming pen-pals was too degrading to the meaning she had to me. But we didn't cut communications because Shiho didn't want to and we ultimately lost everything. Including the friendship and whatever meaning we had to our few memories. I didn't want that to happen with Diem.
I never found out what it was like between Diem and Amina after we broke up.
Ana Claire was just as easy. She called and got a cold response from me, and when she asked if I didn't want to talk to her, I told her not particularly. But that wasn't sad, and Ana Claire wasn't a disappointment. She was everything I thought she was and hoped she’d be, and in the end, that's all she was.
Feelings don't matter anymore. Neither does trust.
***********************************
Diem out, Ana Claire out, Luyen out. Luyen visited for five days because she's thinking of transferring to a college in the area. It did not go well. On her second night here, we got into a big discussion about “us” and “our” communication, and that discussion should never have happened. The assumptions, the gall, it was offensive and presumptuous. For someone who I hadn't seen for however long, she certainly took liberties about the things she felt she could say.
I can't even go into it, it was so appalling. I don't care about whatever she thought was a problem. It didn't deserve any discussion at all. If she has a problem with me, she can get the hell out, we're not that close anymore. What, is she living in a time warp? No one is going to have a problem with me and stay in my life anymore. I don't care about anyone's complaints about me. I am who I am and I'm not going to subject myself to criticism regarding who I am anymore. If anyone has a complaint, I'm the last person to whom they'd want to bring it.
It's almost laughable. I'm getting rid of people right and left, and she comes waltzing in accusing me of whatever and complaining about what is between us. Accusations? Get out. Complaints? Get out.
***********************************
I hate all this. I hate my life and I hate myself. I hate people and dealing with them. I hate walking down the street and seeing them. I try my best to keep my line of sight above everyone's heads so I don't have to look at people. I haven't done anything with my life and I have absolutely nothing to show for it except a lot of material possessions.
I don't care about anything. No more deep or in-depth discussions about anything with anyone. I'm just not interested. Politics, race, religion, injustice, inequality, civil rights, international relations; it's all talk and the world goes on the way it goes, and I can't even pay attention to my own needs. I'm not even listening to myself.
It's not better to burn out than fade away. I kind of like fading, slowly disappearing from peoples' lives, then remove any significance or presence I may have to them, then remove myself physically from their reality.
I told myself that I never want to feel this way again, that I wouldn't let myself. Well, here I am feeling this way again and I resolutely do not want to continue, to wait until things change. But what am I doing about it? Waiting until I'm 34? I don't like people or dealing with them, I can't communicate with anyone and no one knows what I'm about or where I'm coming from or where I am. It's as if I don't exist.
***********************************
I'm living week by week. I'm only living if there is something direct in the next week to live for. It started in February when I put an ad in the Express looking for musicians. Pathetic as it is, I only got one response - a Japanese-Filipino American drummer who's an ex-con. That's what I get? Is someone trying to tell me something? If someone's trying to tell me something, the message isn't being wasted. It's not even pathetic, it's genuinely funny!
That ad ran for three weeks, three weeks to endure. Then Luyen visited and I had to be here for that, then Madoka visited and that was another week. Then I put an ad in the Guardian to run three weeks, another three weeks bought. After that, let's see what keeps me here for another week. That will be the middle of April. On April 15, there will be a photo exhibit at school and I'm going to enter some photos. I can wait for that, too.
Mid-April? Amina's birthday? It's funny finally having a concrete plan. How long has this been coming? More than ten years?
As far back as I learned of a thing called suicide, it has meant something to me, a calling, a destiny. I've been suicidal all my life and never has it been completely gone. This isn't a recurring impulse that comes and goes, it is something that has always been here constantly as far back as I can remember.
***********************************
I wonder to myself what I would do if Amina called. I'd have an easier time if she sounded cheerful than if she sounded tentative or careful. I think I could tell her of the two loves I have for her. The human one, which is only a memory, which removed a good half of my trust. And the one that is beyond human, the one that would make it easy to be friends with her and to feel love towards her in that form. I don't know if I would decide to not kill myself if she called. I think it would depend on the circumstances. I would like to think that I would go right ahead with it regardless; having closed that gaping emotional wound she helped inflict.
***********************************
I can't begin to express how frustrating it is being human, being alive. Alive? I don't even know what that means. A study appeared in today's paper that tea and fruits have something in them which encourages the production of some kind of blood cell which is beneficial in preventing strokes.
I don't think I understand that impulse to control what our bodies do by controlling what goes into them. I understand a healthy diet to feel good, but to consume something so that certain chemical reactions happen which affects that which in turn helps prevent something as attenuated as strokes? That's just way too high maintenance. That's not being alive. If it takes too much thought to be alive, it isn't being alive.
I hate having to eat. I hate having to shower. I hate dealing with whatever is wrong with my skin which gives me a rash nightly. I hate body functions. I hate anything I need to do. I hate being contained in this skin; these defined borders of my existence which in reality is leaking away. I hate things I enjoy. I hate living. Not because it's miserable being alive, I can see how it doesn't have to be, I just don't like it.
I hate humanity and what it has done to this planet, to its people and cultures. I hate its values and what it emphasizes as important.
***********************************
I made contact sheets of two rolls of film that I shot from the end of February into March, and was discouraged by the results. None of the images grabbed me. It was all crap. I wondered if I should give up photography for a while, but I didn't want to join the line of people I've met who "used to do" photography. I don't want to feel like it's something I'm dabbling in and giving it up because it isn't making me feel good.
I only started doing photography a few months ago, what am I expecting of myself? That's no way to learn and grow if it's truly a way I want to express myself. There's so much more to photography than coming up with good prints. This was so basic when I started and was humble enough to not presume I could come up with good prints at all. I just need to go with these shots, pick the images I can remember why I shot them, and print those as best as I can.
Thursday, February 29, 1996
1347 La Loma, Berkeley
February 1996
I want to die this year. Forget everything I said about it being my life goal to simply not kill myself. It's not going to happen. I've made my decision and I'm going to carry it out this year. The projected date at this point is sometime in April. I don't like things around my neck, so I cut off all the collars on my shirts. I probably swung. Fear of heights, I probably jumped. The cutting, I slashed my wrists. I have no idea where the arachnophobia comes from. Maybe I just don't like spiders. I have nothing about water. I used to dehydrate easily, but I don't see how that fits in. I am Aquarius. Maybe this time I'll satisfy this allure towards water.
I stopped drinking at the beginning of the year. Occasionally I’ll have a shot of something, but the constant drinking is over. I went from more than a bottle a week for I don't know how many years to less than one in almost two months. Not a single person has noticed any difference. People who wondered if I was alcoholic, they can't tell the difference between when I've been drinking or when I'm sober. So what gave them the right to call me an alcoholic?
Cat's my closest friend now. I only trust her because she doesn't trust me. She doesn't show me her true self and she always has a front up - defenses. So we get along just fine. She doesn't know me, though. She makes too many wrong assumptions and she sees too much what she wants to see, rather than what I want to show. Is she expendable? I think so. It's only a matter of time, but I genuinely like her a lot and she's the only person I can deal with under any condition these days.
Nobuko and Vikki I no longer consider friends. Housemates. Good housemates, but not friends.
Ana Claire and I have stopped fucking and we don't see much of each other anymore. I guess I got sick of her, her condescension, her arrogance, her pomposity. We may still be friends, who knows? But she's definitely expendable. Less than expandable. Ejectable.
I don't think anyone is not expandable. People are screwed up; disappointments, disillusioning. I'm confounded by humans and the relationships they have. Isn't there anyone out there I can meet who is normal? Who's sane? Even Cat is a furious ball of issues. She thinks I'm up to my ears in issues, and I don't think she thinks that I deal with them.
I've actually been trying to be more forgiving, more understanding, more patient. More from a religious motivation than anything else. Patience and forbearance. Humility, egolessness. I've started with people around me. It's a constant practice to let things go. Frustration, antagonism, let it go. It feels good. It's the martyr in all we religious types, you know?
I will kill myself, but I won't do it angry or sad or with too many relationships and issues unresolved. I want to disappear and I don't want a body found.
Life is art, figuratively and literally. The difference is that we don't know the source material we use to create life. It's imagination. Not everyone has a canvas, or a camera, or a guitar, or pen and paper, but everyone has imagination. Not everyone knows what to do with it.
Affirmation:
I don't deserve to feel the air rushing down my throat and into my lungs, where blood cells deposit carbon dioxide, pick up oxygen, and deliver it around my body to wherever needs it most. I don't deserve to have richly crimson blood running through my veins thick in diligent sustenance of all I do. I don't deserve to have thoughts to think these things and see, hear, sense, touch, taste, smell the world from the confines of this small head and this small body. I don't deserve to be trapped like this.
I don't deserve love, with my rage potential, deft psychological tongue-lashing, sharp skill to hone in on anybody's emotional weaknesses. I don't deserve care, with my general disregard for the value of my own life, inability to support or preserve the things in other people which give my life meaning, inability to nurture, express, give a kind, sincere word to another living breathing human being, one that deserves to live.
I deserve to be on death row, to be put to death by all the people who have even mildly been hurt by me. I deserve lethal injection, gas chamber, electrocution, death by hanging, death by firing squad, death by phaser, death by stoning. I deserve my final meal (lasagna), my last rites, meeting with a pastorpriestspirtualguide...rabbi; guru, master, abbot, monk, nun,...the Pope. A fresh change of clothes. A fresh look on life.
I don't deserve to stand and balance. I deserve to have lots and lots of money. I don't deserve to love the fog, the rain, the sunshine, the mountaintops, the ocean views. I deserve to speak with angels. I don't deserve having to unclog the drain, to dry the carpet from the flooding. I deserve to slash rivers of salt in my sleeves. I don't deserve to sit here and bide my time and let the world go by. I deserve to just sit. I don't deserve tears. I do deserve milk and cookies.
Is my experience really unique? Is there really any difference between what I go through and what anyone else goes through? Or do I overreact to my experience in a way that other people don't? Do other people handle it and deal with it so much better than I do? Am I so dysfunctional and immature in not being able to handle it? Have I not grown at all?
I don't know, I don't have that objectivity. So the best I can do is explain my side and let whoever else cast their own judgments. Why do I need to explain my side and subject myself to judgments? Why not? Because I'm me.
No one can say that I don't try. No one can say that I run away from my fears and problems. I face them and confront them and I fight them if I have to; even if it's a losing battle. I don't create my fears to give myself an excuse to run from something. I balance factors. I assess situations. If I don't feel confident enough about something, I might not pursue it, but if it's something that means something, I won't run away from it.
People get hurt. People get betrayed by people they trust. Why is my experience with Amina and Shiho any different from anybody else's experience of betrayal? Why do I think I'm so special to be able to devalue myself to zero, justifying becoming nothing, just because I wasn't what I thought I was to someone else? Just because someone else wasn't what I thought she was?
Where did I learn to trust? It certainly wasn't from family. Amina was worse than family because I never trusted the 'rents. They could never betray me. Shiho was worse than Amina because at least there was a basis for Amina's betrayal. We had fights, things were going wrong and we weren't able to work things out. I was waiting for some future time to deal with them, but that time never came. It got too bad for her before then. Although I don't even know if our problems were the reason for the betrayal.
But Shiho, none of it was my fault, it was all about her going back to her jerk of an ex-boyfriend. We never fought, I showed her respect and understanding, even when she told me she was considering going back to her ex. I didn't pressure her, I gave her all the room in the world to decide what she felt and what she wanted to do. In return there was nothing, until finally I was wasting my time and knew she wanted to break up but didn't have the guts to do it. So I even did that for her. After that, there was nothing. I have no respect for her now. They belong together.
Is this all enough to value myself at zero? I wasn't even worth an explanation to either of them. No extended discussions, no further clarifications, no later check-in to see how I was doing. Just close the door, nothing ever existed. That is my worth to the people I loved most in my life. Things happened, it's my life, it's my problem, I lived my life and living has it's consequences. If I value my life at zero, so be it, and if I decide to kill my life because it has no value, let it be.
I want to die this year. Forget everything I said about it being my life goal to simply not kill myself. It's not going to happen. I've made my decision and I'm going to carry it out this year. The projected date at this point is sometime in April. I don't like things around my neck, so I cut off all the collars on my shirts. I probably swung. Fear of heights, I probably jumped. The cutting, I slashed my wrists. I have no idea where the arachnophobia comes from. Maybe I just don't like spiders. I have nothing about water. I used to dehydrate easily, but I don't see how that fits in. I am Aquarius. Maybe this time I'll satisfy this allure towards water.
I stopped drinking at the beginning of the year. Occasionally I’ll have a shot of something, but the constant drinking is over. I went from more than a bottle a week for I don't know how many years to less than one in almost two months. Not a single person has noticed any difference. People who wondered if I was alcoholic, they can't tell the difference between when I've been drinking or when I'm sober. So what gave them the right to call me an alcoholic?
Cat's my closest friend now. I only trust her because she doesn't trust me. She doesn't show me her true self and she always has a front up - defenses. So we get along just fine. She doesn't know me, though. She makes too many wrong assumptions and she sees too much what she wants to see, rather than what I want to show. Is she expendable? I think so. It's only a matter of time, but I genuinely like her a lot and she's the only person I can deal with under any condition these days.
Nobuko and Vikki I no longer consider friends. Housemates. Good housemates, but not friends.
Ana Claire and I have stopped fucking and we don't see much of each other anymore. I guess I got sick of her, her condescension, her arrogance, her pomposity. We may still be friends, who knows? But she's definitely expendable. Less than expandable. Ejectable.
I don't think anyone is not expandable. People are screwed up; disappointments, disillusioning. I'm confounded by humans and the relationships they have. Isn't there anyone out there I can meet who is normal? Who's sane? Even Cat is a furious ball of issues. She thinks I'm up to my ears in issues, and I don't think she thinks that I deal with them.
I've actually been trying to be more forgiving, more understanding, more patient. More from a religious motivation than anything else. Patience and forbearance. Humility, egolessness. I've started with people around me. It's a constant practice to let things go. Frustration, antagonism, let it go. It feels good. It's the martyr in all we religious types, you know?
I will kill myself, but I won't do it angry or sad or with too many relationships and issues unresolved. I want to disappear and I don't want a body found.
Life is art, figuratively and literally. The difference is that we don't know the source material we use to create life. It's imagination. Not everyone has a canvas, or a camera, or a guitar, or pen and paper, but everyone has imagination. Not everyone knows what to do with it.
Affirmation:
I don't deserve to feel the air rushing down my throat and into my lungs, where blood cells deposit carbon dioxide, pick up oxygen, and deliver it around my body to wherever needs it most. I don't deserve to have richly crimson blood running through my veins thick in diligent sustenance of all I do. I don't deserve to have thoughts to think these things and see, hear, sense, touch, taste, smell the world from the confines of this small head and this small body. I don't deserve to be trapped like this.
I don't deserve love, with my rage potential, deft psychological tongue-lashing, sharp skill to hone in on anybody's emotional weaknesses. I don't deserve care, with my general disregard for the value of my own life, inability to support or preserve the things in other people which give my life meaning, inability to nurture, express, give a kind, sincere word to another living breathing human being, one that deserves to live.
I deserve to be on death row, to be put to death by all the people who have even mildly been hurt by me. I deserve lethal injection, gas chamber, electrocution, death by hanging, death by firing squad, death by phaser, death by stoning. I deserve my final meal (lasagna), my last rites, meeting with a pastorpriestspirtualguide...rabbi; guru, master, abbot, monk, nun,...the Pope. A fresh change of clothes. A fresh look on life.
I don't deserve to stand and balance. I deserve to have lots and lots of money. I don't deserve to love the fog, the rain, the sunshine, the mountaintops, the ocean views. I deserve to speak with angels. I don't deserve having to unclog the drain, to dry the carpet from the flooding. I deserve to slash rivers of salt in my sleeves. I don't deserve to sit here and bide my time and let the world go by. I deserve to just sit. I don't deserve tears. I do deserve milk and cookies.
Is my experience really unique? Is there really any difference between what I go through and what anyone else goes through? Or do I overreact to my experience in a way that other people don't? Do other people handle it and deal with it so much better than I do? Am I so dysfunctional and immature in not being able to handle it? Have I not grown at all?
I don't know, I don't have that objectivity. So the best I can do is explain my side and let whoever else cast their own judgments. Why do I need to explain my side and subject myself to judgments? Why not? Because I'm me.
No one can say that I don't try. No one can say that I run away from my fears and problems. I face them and confront them and I fight them if I have to; even if it's a losing battle. I don't create my fears to give myself an excuse to run from something. I balance factors. I assess situations. If I don't feel confident enough about something, I might not pursue it, but if it's something that means something, I won't run away from it.
People get hurt. People get betrayed by people they trust. Why is my experience with Amina and Shiho any different from anybody else's experience of betrayal? Why do I think I'm so special to be able to devalue myself to zero, justifying becoming nothing, just because I wasn't what I thought I was to someone else? Just because someone else wasn't what I thought she was?
Where did I learn to trust? It certainly wasn't from family. Amina was worse than family because I never trusted the 'rents. They could never betray me. Shiho was worse than Amina because at least there was a basis for Amina's betrayal. We had fights, things were going wrong and we weren't able to work things out. I was waiting for some future time to deal with them, but that time never came. It got too bad for her before then. Although I don't even know if our problems were the reason for the betrayal.
But Shiho, none of it was my fault, it was all about her going back to her jerk of an ex-boyfriend. We never fought, I showed her respect and understanding, even when she told me she was considering going back to her ex. I didn't pressure her, I gave her all the room in the world to decide what she felt and what she wanted to do. In return there was nothing, until finally I was wasting my time and knew she wanted to break up but didn't have the guts to do it. So I even did that for her. After that, there was nothing. I have no respect for her now. They belong together.
Is this all enough to value myself at zero? I wasn't even worth an explanation to either of them. No extended discussions, no further clarifications, no later check-in to see how I was doing. Just close the door, nothing ever existed. That is my worth to the people I loved most in my life. Things happened, it's my life, it's my problem, I lived my life and living has it's consequences. If I value my life at zero, so be it, and if I decide to kill my life because it has no value, let it be.
Friday, September 22, 1995
1347 La Loma, Berkeley
Shiho lies there sleeping. I think to myself how many people have I loved this much, this dearly. Perhaps just about all of them at some point. Why is this different? Why was Amina different? This is different. Shiho is different. But whenever I've loved anyone this much, I think my love has always reached this level. And the level reached has always been the same. Limited.
She lies there silent, so endeared to me. I wonder if she has any idea how much I love her. Does she know the capacity of my love? Do we love each other in the same way? Are our idea and conception of love the same? I think back to Osaka when she came to visit when she heard I was leaving. That afternoon we spent in each other's arms. I think back to a time in high school when there was a rehearsal going on in the basement, but I was so tired that I needed to take a nap. She came up to my room with me, I forget why, but then after I laid down and she was headed back downstairs, she quickly kissed me on the cheek before going. I ignored it, I wasn't in love with her at that time. Idiot.
I watch her sleeping and I just know this won't last, it is unrealistic. It is unreal. She's here for three days. Two days of travel to be with me for three days.
This past summer. Her apartment was so comfortable. Being there was so comfortable. That one night we went out to the overpass to watch the trains go under and drink beer. What power does love have to keep us together?
How can I love anyone now when I have so many loves in my past that were never resolved, that never reached a proper end?
I never know what is going on in Shiho's heart in any given moment. I never know what is going on in her heart in any given moment. I don't know how her heart works.
I want her to express to me, to tell me that she loves me, to let me know how she feels, but that is not her style. How long will I be able to stand not getting those things? The second time we got together she was just starting to be able to express her feelings in a way I could feel and appreciate.
So much is lying on faith. I understand that it is not her style and I can accept that and adjust. I can only trust that she loves me.
But what indication do I have that I can trust her? Our past? We would get together when we were together, but once we were apart we would fall for other people. And isn't to want such a trust the equivalent of trying to capture her? Trying to make something permanent out of something that can't be permanent, that I know is not permanent, that I feel should not be permanent.
Trust her after Amina? I can't. It's not a vindictive thing against Amina, it's not trauma of being betrayed, it's not emotional. It's fact, it's reality. That sort of trust is not an option anymore. I couldn't trust her even if I were to allow myself to try.
She's beautiful, though. I love her face, her skin, her sex, her presence. I love her existence. If only she loved me back...
She lies there silent, so endeared to me. I wonder if she has any idea how much I love her. Does she know the capacity of my love? Do we love each other in the same way? Are our idea and conception of love the same? I think back to Osaka when she came to visit when she heard I was leaving. That afternoon we spent in each other's arms. I think back to a time in high school when there was a rehearsal going on in the basement, but I was so tired that I needed to take a nap. She came up to my room with me, I forget why, but then after I laid down and she was headed back downstairs, she quickly kissed me on the cheek before going. I ignored it, I wasn't in love with her at that time. Idiot.
I watch her sleeping and I just know this won't last, it is unrealistic. It is unreal. She's here for three days. Two days of travel to be with me for three days.
This past summer. Her apartment was so comfortable. Being there was so comfortable. That one night we went out to the overpass to watch the trains go under and drink beer. What power does love have to keep us together?
How can I love anyone now when I have so many loves in my past that were never resolved, that never reached a proper end?
I never know what is going on in Shiho's heart in any given moment. I never know what is going on in her heart in any given moment. I don't know how her heart works.
I want her to express to me, to tell me that she loves me, to let me know how she feels, but that is not her style. How long will I be able to stand not getting those things? The second time we got together she was just starting to be able to express her feelings in a way I could feel and appreciate.
So much is lying on faith. I understand that it is not her style and I can accept that and adjust. I can only trust that she loves me.
But what indication do I have that I can trust her? Our past? We would get together when we were together, but once we were apart we would fall for other people. And isn't to want such a trust the equivalent of trying to capture her? Trying to make something permanent out of something that can't be permanent, that I know is not permanent, that I feel should not be permanent.
Trust her after Amina? I can't. It's not a vindictive thing against Amina, it's not trauma of being betrayed, it's not emotional. It's fact, it's reality. That sort of trust is not an option anymore. I couldn't trust her even if I were to allow myself to try.
She's beautiful, though. I love her face, her skin, her sex, her presence. I love her existence. If only she loved me back...
Monday, June 19, 1995
247 19th Ave., #2 San Francisco
Less than two weeks left of this agonizingly boring Environmental Crimes class. The professor must be either the second or third worst professor I've ever had.
Nobuko came back from Hawaii and it was pleasant to see her again. It wasn't as cool as I thought it would be for Cat, Nobuko, and I to get together. They currently live around the corner from each other. Cat is cool, she really intrigues me.
Amina shattered my trust in friendships, relationships, and people. I won't go out with anyone unless I've been friends with her for some given amount of time, and for the duration of that time, I must remain in love with her. But I was friends with Amina for two years before we went out, and I was madly in love with her the whole time, and she loved me back, so she claimed. It ultimately made no difference in terms of forming trust or a lasting bond. All it did was make me a lot more vulnerable. I like Cat and it feels similar to how I felt towards Amina as a friend. The difference being that I loved Amina.
Joy was the complete opposite. We didn't even know each other very long before we plunged into a relationship, much less have time to become friends. I couldn't have reasonably believed in the time we were getting acquainted that we would have a lasting friendship. If I had looked forward a year to try to see what sort of friendship would exist, I think I would have been hard pressed to see anything. But I fixated upon getting into a relationship that I ignored a lot. She was a rebound.
Nobuko came back from Hawaii and it was pleasant to see her again. It wasn't as cool as I thought it would be for Cat, Nobuko, and I to get together. They currently live around the corner from each other. Cat is cool, she really intrigues me.
Amina shattered my trust in friendships, relationships, and people. I won't go out with anyone unless I've been friends with her for some given amount of time, and for the duration of that time, I must remain in love with her. But I was friends with Amina for two years before we went out, and I was madly in love with her the whole time, and she loved me back, so she claimed. It ultimately made no difference in terms of forming trust or a lasting bond. All it did was make me a lot more vulnerable. I like Cat and it feels similar to how I felt towards Amina as a friend. The difference being that I loved Amina.
Joy was the complete opposite. We didn't even know each other very long before we plunged into a relationship, much less have time to become friends. I couldn't have reasonably believed in the time we were getting acquainted that we would have a lasting friendship. If I had looked forward a year to try to see what sort of friendship would exist, I think I would have been hard pressed to see anything. But I fixated upon getting into a relationship that I ignored a lot. She was a rebound.
Thursday, September 08, 1994
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
School started for Joy yesterday. We got together on Tuesday at Yerba Buena Gardens, just as we did on the Tuesday before I started classes several weeks ago.
It feels like I've known her for longer. Everything before her isn't important, drained of significance, drained of reality or relevance. Joy is real. This sounds uncomfortably familiar.
And still.
I haven't seen her for two days. I found that I don't particularly like talking to her on the phone. Calling her requires a prior check on how I feel. There's still this issue of trust which I don't think is getting resolved. I've told her so much about myself, but I don't know if it has been trust or if I've just been testing her to see how much she can take. Something is missing between us.
She still blisses me out, but I have my doubts. I love her fully, but only as long as she loves me back, not one day longer.
I'm not through dealing with my problems. They just won't go away. I would rather die than be in a relationship. I can see how that could be a problem.
Joy deserves much more than this. It's not that I don't want to give her my all, it's just that I don't have that much.
I'll try. I want to. It's a confidence and self-esteem issue which makes me feel like I won't succeed or can't, but I'll try.
It feels like I've known her for longer. Everything before her isn't important, drained of significance, drained of reality or relevance. Joy is real. This sounds uncomfortably familiar.
And still.
I haven't seen her for two days. I found that I don't particularly like talking to her on the phone. Calling her requires a prior check on how I feel. There's still this issue of trust which I don't think is getting resolved. I've told her so much about myself, but I don't know if it has been trust or if I've just been testing her to see how much she can take. Something is missing between us.
She still blisses me out, but I have my doubts. I love her fully, but only as long as she loves me back, not one day longer.
I'm not through dealing with my problems. They just won't go away. I would rather die than be in a relationship. I can see how that could be a problem.
Joy deserves much more than this. It's not that I don't want to give her my all, it's just that I don't have that much.
I'll try. I want to. It's a confidence and self-esteem issue which makes me feel like I won't succeed or can't, but I'll try.
Tuesday, July 26, 1994
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
Telling myself that I don't want to get involved with Joy is purely a defense mechanism. I really wouldn't mind. I can't deny the effect that she's having on my life. Might I start caring?
Why did things fail with Amina? How could I have been so wrong? Why was I convinced that she was right? How do I avoid missing again? What was happening when, and whose fault was it?
I should have seen it coming. I think of the situations we were in, and how could I have not seen it coming? Things were already falling apart soon after we got together. Soon after the honeymoon part of the relationship ended. That should have meant something.
Our situations were all wrong, she was in academia and I was dealing with the 'rents. I needed more than she was able to give and she wasn't pressed to accept what I was giving. I was more stress for her than not, and likewise. But the stress she caused me was much less than the stress the 'rents were causing. So I intentionally burned my hand so that I wouldn't notice that the rest of me was on fire.
I have to look farther and deeper, though. I did go out to Oberlin several times during her Spring semester and those times were quite successful, productive, happy times. What was I ignoring that could have indicated to me not to let all my defenses down?
There were no indications when we were together, but how about when we were apart? When we were apart, our communications were woefully inadequate. She didn't communicate often and when she did, she didn't do it very well. She was too preoccupied. We were always postponing a happy, continuous relationship for some ambiguous time in the future. It was OK if things were crap now, things would be better “in the future”.
Dependence was a huge problem. I should have been gauging my feelings at all times. I used the problem of the 'rents to ignore Amina as a problem as well. I depended on Amina to help me through my problems. That was all wrong. I did have bad feelings towards Amina, and regardless of what excuse I could come up with to explain, disregard, or justify them, I should have taken them seriously as a warning. No excuses. My fingers should have been on my pulse. But is that love?
There was no reason why I shouldn't have trusted Amina. There was no indicator or warning that I shouldn't have been trusting Amina. I can't explain why I failed myself so miserably. I was just totally deluded, forcing myself to believe that we had a relationship we didn't. Placing faith in the future when the present was crap.
I don't know how to avoid it again. It's so easy to think that I can trust Joy, Joy is completely different from Amina, it's not in her nature or character to do what Amina did. Ah yes. Amina was just like Joy, wasn't she? How to avoid the delusion?
I don't know how Amina views what she did. She may not think of it as this evil, malicious, heartless breach of trust that I remember. People have needs, people break up with their partners. I've broken up with people and have hurt them in the process. Why is it such a major production when it happens to me, just because of the way I had treated it, just because of my perceptions and assumptions?
Avoiding relationships is not the answer, that's not me to cut off and deny myself the communication I need. That's not life. There are already differences in me now from what I was around Amina. Why Amina at all? She sure didn't leave anything. What about Amina aside from her presence, which lost its grace easily enough. There is still a lot to worry about in getting involved with Joy or anyone. When it comes into a consideration of involvement, both my trust and confidence plunge. Quickly.
Why did things fail with Amina? How could I have been so wrong? Why was I convinced that she was right? How do I avoid missing again? What was happening when, and whose fault was it?
I should have seen it coming. I think of the situations we were in, and how could I have not seen it coming? Things were already falling apart soon after we got together. Soon after the honeymoon part of the relationship ended. That should have meant something.
Our situations were all wrong, she was in academia and I was dealing with the 'rents. I needed more than she was able to give and she wasn't pressed to accept what I was giving. I was more stress for her than not, and likewise. But the stress she caused me was much less than the stress the 'rents were causing. So I intentionally burned my hand so that I wouldn't notice that the rest of me was on fire.
I have to look farther and deeper, though. I did go out to Oberlin several times during her Spring semester and those times were quite successful, productive, happy times. What was I ignoring that could have indicated to me not to let all my defenses down?
There were no indications when we were together, but how about when we were apart? When we were apart, our communications were woefully inadequate. She didn't communicate often and when she did, she didn't do it very well. She was too preoccupied. We were always postponing a happy, continuous relationship for some ambiguous time in the future. It was OK if things were crap now, things would be better “in the future”.
Dependence was a huge problem. I should have been gauging my feelings at all times. I used the problem of the 'rents to ignore Amina as a problem as well. I depended on Amina to help me through my problems. That was all wrong. I did have bad feelings towards Amina, and regardless of what excuse I could come up with to explain, disregard, or justify them, I should have taken them seriously as a warning. No excuses. My fingers should have been on my pulse. But is that love?
There was no reason why I shouldn't have trusted Amina. There was no indicator or warning that I shouldn't have been trusting Amina. I can't explain why I failed myself so miserably. I was just totally deluded, forcing myself to believe that we had a relationship we didn't. Placing faith in the future when the present was crap.
I don't know how to avoid it again. It's so easy to think that I can trust Joy, Joy is completely different from Amina, it's not in her nature or character to do what Amina did. Ah yes. Amina was just like Joy, wasn't she? How to avoid the delusion?
I don't know how Amina views what she did. She may not think of it as this evil, malicious, heartless breach of trust that I remember. People have needs, people break up with their partners. I've broken up with people and have hurt them in the process. Why is it such a major production when it happens to me, just because of the way I had treated it, just because of my perceptions and assumptions?
Avoiding relationships is not the answer, that's not me to cut off and deny myself the communication I need. That's not life. There are already differences in me now from what I was around Amina. Why Amina at all? She sure didn't leave anything. What about Amina aside from her presence, which lost its grace easily enough. There is still a lot to worry about in getting involved with Joy or anyone. When it comes into a consideration of involvement, both my trust and confidence plunge. Quickly.
Wednesday, June 22, 1994
247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco
I had a love so solid and so definite and it dissolved into nothingness. Did the love and care even exist in the first place? Were they just appearances, a front for something I can't touch or realize. What about the illusion of Shiho that I hold so dear? Can't that love just as easily be discarded? Do I trust Shiho? Could I? How can I trust anything anymore. I don't. Not even my own existence. My existence is hardly a solid and definite thing anymore and it hardly has any significance or reliable substance.
What is so important about our existences? We float in, we float out. People go on vacations, they go home after the party, they leave the stage after the act. They move to other states, they move to other countries, they die. It all boils down to absence and the future access. But what's the big deal? People who die are like people who move away and you never hear from again. Why should my feelings toward Amina be any different if she were dead? Dead only means dead to this existence, it's only absence. People who are true friends will always find each other in different lifetimes.
If Amina and I never meet again, eventually I wouldn't be saddened by her absence. There would always be the possibility of running into her, regardless of how unlikely that is. But if she died, I would be saddened by her death, despite the realization that we probably never would have met each other anyway.
I don't trust in anything anymore because that's the way it should be. I don't feel or believe in the importance of my life because that is the way it should be. Care doesn't exist for me anymore. Care is just another word for awareness. I care about people, but I don't think my caring makes any difference at all to anybody. It's mine alone, all I can do is be aware of other people's situations and be concerned to that limited extent.
No one "cares" about me. No one can have an effect on me or the way I live my life, so no one can care about me. No one can care about me in a way I can believe or accept. I must accept myself for who I am. I can't deal with my problems because I never learned to deal with problems. I never witnessed problems effectively dealt with. I grew up in a family that covered up and ignored problems and always pretended that everything was rosy.
I have huge problems looming over me, inside me, eating and rotting me away, creating pressure around every cell from every direction and there is nothing I can do about it. I can't approach the problems, I can't face them, much less do anything about them, much less tell anyone about them.
Is it low self-image? I know I have an immense self-hatred and I know that these things are a result of my upbringing and intensify now due to the loss of a support group and other external factors that have worked to counterbalance my disadvantages. I know that my feelings about my inadequacies and failures and failings are merely perceptions. I know that from another point of view, I'm doing better than fine. That is not the way I feel, and knowing it doesn't do a thing to help cope with it.
What is so important about our existences? We float in, we float out. People go on vacations, they go home after the party, they leave the stage after the act. They move to other states, they move to other countries, they die. It all boils down to absence and the future access. But what's the big deal? People who die are like people who move away and you never hear from again. Why should my feelings toward Amina be any different if she were dead? Dead only means dead to this existence, it's only absence. People who are true friends will always find each other in different lifetimes.
If Amina and I never meet again, eventually I wouldn't be saddened by her absence. There would always be the possibility of running into her, regardless of how unlikely that is. But if she died, I would be saddened by her death, despite the realization that we probably never would have met each other anyway.
I don't trust in anything anymore because that's the way it should be. I don't feel or believe in the importance of my life because that is the way it should be. Care doesn't exist for me anymore. Care is just another word for awareness. I care about people, but I don't think my caring makes any difference at all to anybody. It's mine alone, all I can do is be aware of other people's situations and be concerned to that limited extent.
No one "cares" about me. No one can have an effect on me or the way I live my life, so no one can care about me. No one can care about me in a way I can believe or accept. I must accept myself for who I am. I can't deal with my problems because I never learned to deal with problems. I never witnessed problems effectively dealt with. I grew up in a family that covered up and ignored problems and always pretended that everything was rosy.
I have huge problems looming over me, inside me, eating and rotting me away, creating pressure around every cell from every direction and there is nothing I can do about it. I can't approach the problems, I can't face them, much less do anything about them, much less tell anyone about them.
Is it low self-image? I know I have an immense self-hatred and I know that these things are a result of my upbringing and intensify now due to the loss of a support group and other external factors that have worked to counterbalance my disadvantages. I know that my feelings about my inadequacies and failures and failings are merely perceptions. I know that from another point of view, I'm doing better than fine. That is not the way I feel, and knowing it doesn't do a thing to help cope with it.
Monday, May 11, 1992
224 College St., Oberlin
Luyen leaves in a week and I don’t know what she expects to happen after that. I don’t know if we’re in a relationship. I don’t think so. No one knows about it. We only interact when she comes over at night, and she often comes in after I’ve gone to sleep. It’s not right. I’m much closer to Diem and Amina and they hardly know of this thing with Luyen. It’s not right that we think we are any more than we are.
My trust has taken quite a beating. I don’t trust anyone. Not Diem, not Amina, not Frances. I don’t trust what they think of me or how they perceive me. And I doubt that any of them doesn’t have bad things to say about me now. I should have graduated in December. Once again I’ve overstayed my visit by just a little too long. Things have changed so much and too fast. People have grown up and grown apart. Grown different. I want to leave them all behind and forget about them.
My trust has taken quite a beating. I don’t trust anyone. Not Diem, not Amina, not Frances. I don’t trust what they think of me or how they perceive me. And I doubt that any of them doesn’t have bad things to say about me now. I should have graduated in December. Once again I’ve overstayed my visit by just a little too long. Things have changed so much and too fast. People have grown up and grown apart. Grown different. I want to leave them all behind and forget about them.
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