idon’tcry

You know that feeling you get, right in your eyes… it’s like this dry burning and yet it’s wet? And when your nose is mysteriously clear, and you can breathe, but you still feel like you’re suffocating and dying, but you’re perfectly fine, sitting and breathing? And your face hurts and you feel like you have wind burn, but you haven’t been in any wind all day?  And your gut just keeps jumping, turning, like a mosh pit in your stomach, yet deeper, in your heart, soul, and existence? Do you know that feeling?

It’s the feeling I get after crying.

I never cry. That’s the long and short of it. I just. don’t. cry. After years and years of keeping myself from crying, I haven’t been able to cry over things I always feel should make me cry. I barely shed a tear at funerals. Films don’t make me cry like they used to. I will sit there, willing myself to cry, and all I ever get is a yawn. It’s ridiculous. I was beginning to think I was never going to cry again.

I desperately need to cry. It’s just something humans do, it’s this indescribable release sometimes. Other times, like now, you just need the comfort, or the reassurance that you’re still human, as RayBay put it. The last time I cried, I was in absolute shock, but I was in the middle of writing a song. I’d woken on a Saturday morning and suddenly these lyrics just billowed their way into my string of thoughts. All of sudden, I sprang out of bed, grabbed my notebook and my guitar, and started writing a song. Part way through, I just started sobbing, it was insane. I’ll post the lyrics later, but I almost can’t believe it happened it was so surreal.

But this time was so different. So incredibly different. I didn’t think I would cry. Actually, I’d tried to make myself cry so many times before and failed, I thought it was impossible.

Obviously, it wasn’t.

Last night, I went to a Muse concert. Well, Muse was opening for U2, but Muse was blatently better. I’ll document that later, also, but the point was that it was my first Muse concert, and if you haven’t realised it yet, I’m a bit obsessed with them.

There is a concept called The Paper Person Concept. I’m not sure if I’ve posted about it before, but in short, a Paper Person is someone we make up in our heads. This most often happens without our realisation. We give someone we think we know numerous attributes and characteristics, usually ones we associate with perfection. We build someone in our head who is the epitome of the human race, and sometimes… we fall in love with them.

I did.

It sucks.

I didn’t say that to be dramatic, either. It’s absolutely and utterly true. I mean, it’s wonderful to be “in love”. You feel like you’ve found this beyond belief person and they’re so lovely lovely lovely etc. But there’s a catch. At some point, things happen and life happens and suddenly you get torn away from all these beliefs you had about your Paper Person, because suddenly you see the Real Person and they’re so completely different.

That’s not what happened. It was a tangent… but here’s what happened (my brain has turned to mush and I have no idea how else to write this, and I don’t have the incentive to write this loverlyly):

I saw Muse. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, which means I’m so excited I’m REALLLLYYY excited. The concert went on and U2 came on and all was well. Though my goal for the night had been to meet them, though I knew that was impossible, and it was stupid of me to think that. Anyhow, didn’t meet them, went home and thought they were heading to the next stop. But they weren’t. They were still here and I was only forty minutes away from them.

Forty.

Damn.

Minutes.

When I realised this, as I was getting twitpics from them and comprehending the fact that he was in my reach, and yet not, like I was in a cage and I was reaching out and he was right there, and I couldn’t do shit about it.

I have made a Paper Person of Matthew Bellamy. If you’ve never had a Paper Person, then you don’t know how completely possible it is to fall in love with them. It’s so easy, easy, easy, easy, and it’s the hardest thing to get out of. Ray’s had a Paper Person, and she can testify… can take years to get over a Paper Person. And to get over one, you first have to admit they’re imaginary, and most of all, want to let go.

I’m familiar with post-Muse-gig depression (PGD), and I’m hoping that’s all it is. Actually, I’m dreaming that’s all it is.

As I was realising that Matthew Bellamy was a mere forty minutes away, and that he couldn’t hear me, would never hear me, see me, touch me, know me, and a million other things, I felt like crying. I didn’t start crying until my mom called right as I was thinking I would be okay and somehow, as I was talking to her, I just started crying. As in, tears were sort of going down my face, but I wasn’t breathing like I’d just run or something. But the second we got off the phone, I just bawled. Bawled, cried, sobbed, harder than ever, and I just crumpled onto the floor in a million pieces, feeling shattered. At the end of this, I’ll paste the Note I typed up on my iPod after I stopped crying, because that’s all I have to describe what happened, I guess.

So I cried for about an hour and a half before I calmed down enough to try called Ray. I go to her for this stuff, because it’s just our thing, we get the Paper Person stuff, I knew she’d understand how I felt. She wasn’t out of school yet, so I left her about six voicemails of me crying and blubbering and just venting to her, trying to feel like someone was listening to me for a fucking moment, I needed someone to know that I was dying on the floor.

I started up sobbing again for five minutes when Ray called. She was immediately worried, and I asked her if she’d listened to my voicemails. She had.

I’m so grateful for her. She let me talk to her for forever, just crying and blubbering, and she reassured me, reminding me that every thing would be all right and that I was going to be okay, and that crying was good, that I really needed a cry considering that I never cry. She talked about how we were going to have a sleepover and watch love movies and wallow in our problems and just get fat off of pizza and chocolate for a night, and that made me feel like I had something to look forward to, you know? Like maybe there was a glimmer of hope somewhere?

I calmed down a bit and let Ray go. Soon after, I started sobbing again, and I was just sitting there, having a conversation in my head with myself, trying to find some sense in what was happening and why the hell I was crying. I was crying over a guy and I was pretty sure I’d promised myself never to cry over a guy and I JUST DON’T FUCKING CRY. I didn’t get it. It was like finding out your pregnant and you haven’t had sex. But in a bad, worse, terrible sense.

Then I had to force myself to stop crying because my mum came home. Obviously I couldn’t cry in front of her and tell her that I was crying because I was in love with Matthew Bellamy and he didn’t know me. So I forced myself to stop crying, and somehow, she didn’t notice that I LOOKED LIKE I HAD BEEN CRYING. But then again, this is my mother we’re talking about. She brought me home a sandwich, though, and I think that proved to me that I was definitely feeling like a dumpee… but not? I mean, I didn’t think AHHH MY BOYFRIEND DOESN’T LOVE ME, nothing along the lines of that, but I was just generally depressed, my brain was mush, and all I could think was FOOD. Girls just do that. And I ate a chocolate bar, too. I can never handle that much food, it was insane. It was proof to me that I was seriously traumatised.

Then later, I found out that my band leader is being deployed. And then his wife started crying, and I started to feel terrible and almost started crying, too, because I felt like I was being so stupid crying over Matthew Bellamy the Paper Edition when she had to say goodbye to her husband for a year. Then I remembered Ray and that, fuck, I cried and I’m human and WHEN YOU HAVE A PAPER PERSON YOU LOVE THEM. YOU LOVE THEM, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY, YOU LOVE THEM AND IT’S THE SAME THING. I know, I know, the husband-wife thing is wayyy different than a crush, but I don’t have to incentive to write down all the arguments as to why it’s perfectly possible to love a Paper Person as much as a regular person.

Anyhow, it’s my birthday. I failed to mention that. But ever year, my birthday ends up being shit. Absolute shit.

And arguably, this is the worst day of my life. Worst. Day. Of. My. Life.

Here is the Note that I wrote, it’s called Surreal. It comes in three parts: Surreal: Before the Concert, Surreal Duo: After the Concert, Surreal Three: The Cry. I’ll proberly write more and just paste it in later.

I hope I don’t sound as pathetic as I feel, but… I had to get that out. I’m so traumatised right now, I don’t know if this is PGD or not, or if I cried because I felt like maybe I was losing my Paper Person.

I can’t comprehend a me without him. My brain, my soul, my heart without dreams of him, thoughts of him. I just can’t. My existence can’t take it, it’s so… it’s so… imposible to me.

I don’t know. Just read the damn Note.

–xx–

Surreal

Tomorrow, I’m going to see him. The person who’s driven all my novel endeavors, given me over a million words to write for NaNoWriMo, who has around five or six songs written for him by Ingo, who inspired trillions of thoughts and dreams floating around in my head, who has made me see a side of life and music I never knew existed, who showed me what true music is, who pulled me out of depression, who sends electric shocks down my spine, who I would sail the world for. I don’t know what seeing the Paper Person and the real person collide will do to me. I might die. Faint. End up in an asylum that night. I don’t know. RayBay says that everything will be all right… That I shouldn’t worry about it. She knows what I mean when I say I’m deathly afraid and I think I’m gonna puke. She says that I’ll feel like I’ll faint, be depressed possibly, but that I will have a freaking awesome time. I’ll be seeing Muse, for fuck’s sake. And she’ll be there afterwards, to comfort me while I go through withdrawal and as I cry and want to die. Resurfacing this tidal wave is going to be the hardest thing I’ve done. But I’ll still have Ray. And God. And Twin. And DeKaff. They’ll always love me, and everything will be okay, Ray said so. And who knows, maybe I’ll have a lovely conversation with them. Or with Dom. Or I won’t even get near them. I’ll fade into the background. I don’t know. But I’ll go with low expectations, in fact, expect nothing. I can’t drop back into the chasm. I won’t. I will draw strength from God and from Ray.

Everything WILL be okay.

She promised.

Surreal Duo

I’m back. And she was right. For now, it hasn’t hit. I can’t feel anything.

I am numb.

Surreal Three

This is by far the worst day of my life.

Yes, there was the day that Grandma died.

Yes, there was the day when I thought my parents were getting divorced.

Yes, there was the day I was told something that changed everything.

But this, this is by far the epitome of all my woes. Every droplet of water, the beauty of creation, the bright sunlight on the grass, the rain – nothing can make me happy. Nothing but one thing. One person. One soul.

There is something deeply terrible about losing someone you love- not just a “loved one”, but the love of your life, the person who is your everything, who lights up your darkest skies, who haunts your dreams, who communicates in the most beautiful way, who conjures music in your soul, who is your ALL, your LOVE, your LIFE- the reason you breathe and keep going through all of the mess around you.

It is like the pain of losing your child. You only know it if you’ve been through it. You cannot understand the depth of pain I feel. Not Bella. Not anyone. I am alone in this pain. It is the darkest pain I’ve ever felt. Like an emptiness that is so indescribable, so cold it makes you feel worthless, useless, like every thought I think, every word I’ve written, every song I’ve sung- they’re all nothing without him. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

I am as hopeful as the murderer in his chains, sitting in his darkened cell, waiting for the guard to take him to the place where they end your life.

I feel nearly non-existent. As if he is crucial to me. I cannot imagine me being myself unless he is there, in me, the inherent bond unbreakable, unscathable bridging, melding our souls into a glorious supernova brighter than the sun.

I feel as though I’ve never conversed with him. But I don’t need to. I know so much and so little, but enough that I am inevitably tied, voluntarily enslaved. I WANT to belong to you. I NEED to belong to you. I am NOTHING without you.

I am nothing without you.