Coming Out and Jogging
I’ve just returned from a walk/jog and it’s not getting any easier. I don’t understand why. I’ve been doing this for the last two months and I don’t feel much fitter. As I traverse the 5 kilometer stretch of road my lungs burn, my limbs rage and my muscles revolt against me with an unholy vengeance…every day. At least my asthma doesn’t strike me down as hard as before, and I’ve lost a little weight. But that’s not why I started doing this, I want to be fitter.
But I’m getting sidetracked, my real reason for posting is this. While walk/jogging I began to ponder the whole issue of coming out. Yes, yes stop the fucking presses, I know it’s a big shock. But this issue has kind of consumed me in recent days and as such it has rightly consumed my blog, which is in essence a reflection of me.
But I came to two methods of outing myself. The first method is this, when my results envelope is in my hands. I could say it fast. Do it quickly like a pulling off a bandaid. Then before they can respond I tear open the envelope and shield myself behind my results. That would make for one hell of an emotional day.
My other method, would be to write it all down, all of it in an essay letter. Then I would leave the house for the day and leave this message in plain sight of them. That way I could await a response far away from home.
I’m so confused, I hate this so much. What do you guys think? Are either of those methods any good?
My mind is my sanctuary, my sanctuary is crumbling.
“Yes I am, so what’s the solution.”
“Time I’m afraid.”
Wasn’t intended to cause harm but has sent my mind on a roller coaster. This year has indeed been a horrible mix of stress and emotion. But those few words, I haven’t been able to remove them from my thoughts since I first read them and my stomach lurched. So, I decided to return to a home of my childhood, my grandmothers house where I essentially lived between the ages of 7 and 9 until my granny died of cancer.
I don’t like going back because while everything is the same in one sense, it’s also changed as well. It’s complicated but as I walk along the canal to the building itself, it’s like I’m a child again. One of the few instances in which i feel like a child, but just as distressing and unfortunately a sensation that is becoming frequent in recent days.
Everything at my granny’s house has been torn asunder and re-purposed. Her gardens are now car parks. The forest where I used to play with my cousins is uprooted. Her home is now an office. But most irritating of all is that her monument was torn from the ground and hurled into the earth behind her former house.
By this point I was feeling no better, and with no one to talk to I was resigned to return home. To the books, the boredom and lets face the loneliness. But then a voice in my head quite literally said “FUCK IT!” and I went for a jog instead. Tearing through the woods and just trying to lose all of this emotional baggage among the trees.
Of course I couldn’t. All the woods did was remind me how simple life used to be. When I could climb trees all day in complete solitude and feel absolutely nothing. Least of all lonely. But I pressed on with my jog because I really can’t care about school anymore, or perhaps just right now. It’s too much stress. These last exams are like leaping across a ravine. The fall wont kill me if I don’t reach the other side, but then I have to start climbing all over again, right from the beginning. Considering the first climb has quite literally pushed me to my extremes I can’t do it again. I never really let anyone know how far I’ve been pushed, how many times I wanted to let go and fall. How, I almost did fall.
So I pushed on with the jogging, and ran from more of my problems. My problems, they’re so minute in the grand scheme of things. I really shouldn’t dedicate a blog to them, but I do all the same, because hey lets face it I’m desperate for attention. He pointed that out, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that. Why am I bringing that up now? I’ve no idea, but I guess my tendency to bottle things up forces me to deal with issues at later dates for no apparent reason.
Upon passing this tree I soon became oxygen deprived. Left gasping for air, hunched over, as my lungs burned. Thus my mind and thoughts returned and I quickly realized something. The solution to my unhappiness was not nearly as illusive as the solution to loneliness. But it was just as irritating. In essence the quest for my happiness is a paradox. In order to achieve happiness I must pass through a wave of nauseating unhappiness. I stuck my toe into that pool of sorrow, I don’t feel like trying to swim through it. Thus I’m stuck here in limbo, until stress forces me somewhere worse.
So that’s my refrain, I live in hell, because they pulled me out of heaven.
By the time I reached the top of the hill in the above picture, I was drained. Physically and emotionally. It did however dawn on me. No one cares. People were much happier when I bottled up my own problems. This is evident by the fact that precious few choose to talk to me now that I no longer deal with their problems but seek advice for my own. No contact from my “friends”, from my friends or from my family. I always have to make the first move. i sometimes wonder. If I made no contact would anyone search for me. Would a single soul send me a text. Does anyone but strangers care?
I could write for days on this but I’m home now and it’s time for dinner. No doubt I will return to this topic once more before long.