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  • I've never watched myself in a state of dissociation with this much awareness before. It's almost an oxymoron.

    I wouldn't mind getting out of here, though I do find myself watching with a morbid sense of curiosity. Also, I'm reminded of my former self, or more accurately, the self I spend so much of my energy on keeping a distance from. Heavy-sweet, dark, like burgundy and equally alluring. It's interesting how addictive misery and melancholy can be. But I've finally learned my lesson. Finally. I have to say it took far too long, and quite a bit of doing. Now I supposedly know better than to believe that giving in is going to offer me some relief. Now I know, despite how I might romanticise it, the pain always, always, outweighs the pleasure.

     

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Comments

2 comments

  • lovelywarpedlemon
    lovelywarpedlemon
    Ah... Now I know where you're coming from. What has changed for you? Or, maybe a better question is "What changed it for you?" Did you just decide not to go back? And how do you know you won't?
    July 21, 2016

  • ambivalent Friability
    ambivalent Friability
    i think what changed is realizing that I couldn't keep living my life like it was a coming of age movie about a moody teenager. :p The pain and more importantly, the consequences, were real. Real things that I had to actually deal with in my very own very real life. It's a horrifying thought. Which makes the fact that I never slipped all the way back into being a character in a movie about my life all the more unbelievable. It's like having a really big crush on someone, and realizing or discovering something about them that changes how you see them and think of them. You try to shake it off, but you can't. Your impression of them has been tainted and nothing will change that.   It's not like I haven't wanted or tried to go back. I can't. Shamefully, I've tried. I'd liken it to a 60 year old trying to act like they're 20 to look and feel younger. Graceless. They're not fooling anyone, not even themselves. They only succeed in making fools of themselves and becoming more unhappy with the reality of their age. If they were forty trying to pass as 30 they might have more luck. They might even fool themselves, and others. Indulging in my preferred miseries has never been the same. Over time what I gain from indulging has become far outweighed by the negative side-effects, so to speak. My fantasy world of romanticised misery and agony has never again glimmered the way it used to. Going back, or at least trying to, has lead to disappointment. Nothing quells desire quite like disappointment. :p It's been hard to let go. I built that place from the ground up.  That world was my home.
    July 22, 2016