New post
hey
right now it is 6:49 PM EST. so its 4:59 for Rodya, 3:59 for Innon, and 5:59 for my friends in New Brunswick.
I finished writing tha tbefore the time changed. ah it just did. that was nice.
I'm sitting in the spare room at my Grandmother's house, in Ontario. The power is out right now. Normally I'd have the lamp on. There's a generator, but this room doesn't get any hydro anyway.
I miss Rodya and Innon. I'd have liked to tell them I loved them before I left my best friend's house, since it was a very very icy drive, and could have easily been dangerous. We had to detour twice thanks to fallen trees.
I'm listening to ... Scrawny, by Wallows. This song kind of upsets me, but I'm trying to get over that. For a while, it just made me think of bad stuff, and reminded me how powerless I am, and other silly things, but that's not such a bad thing, I guess.
After writing this I'm going to go to bed, though it's very early, because I'd like to do lots of stuff with my Grandmother tomorrow before I leave.
I'm trying not to think about stuff with my dad, but What Can You Do.
This place makes me so emotional. My best friend is the only friend of mine that's been at this house, so she's the only one who I can imagine Kind of understands.
I have spent a lot of my life here. Very very emotional times of my life. And this property is the most beautiful thing in the entire world to me. I pray that one day I will be able to live at a place like this.
The property has a large yellow house surrounded by gardens. There's a lake, a two story barn, a studio, a garage, a chicken coop, and a few run down firewood houses further down. I love it endlessly. I have spent many hours wandering around and taking photos of it. It means everything to me. The inside of the house is cluttered but pretty. There are hundreds of books--my grandmother is working on a library upstairs--and each room is unique. This spare room is where I have almost always stayed. For a short while, when I was young, back when my grandmother was still trying to make me Christian, I stayed in my cousins room, upstairs, next to hers. The room was still full of her old toys, which I often went through. At my house in new brunswick, on my mirror, is a floppy old dog stuffie that I took from my cousins belongings in that room. Though mostly this spare room.
The bed has a memory foam topping with a heavy duvet on top. It has bottom and top pillows, (for sleeping and reading), and lamps on either side. The bedside tables the lamps reside on have little drawers. I tend to use the drawers as I visit for more than a day.
For a short while I came here after school. This was while I was attended a school near here. This was during grades 3 and 4. For refernece, here's what my school attendance has looked like over the years.
school a, one year of kindergarden and grade 1 school b, grade 2 school c, grades 3 and 4 school d, grades 5 and 6 online school, grade 7 school e, grade 8
and now highschool, of which i've been at one the entirity of my highschool life. i know its high school and not highschool but highschool looks much better in my opinion.
It's come to my attention that this makes me one of those people who is "not in one place for long" and stuff, but I've never minded much, as I kind of didn't have close friends at any of these places anyway.
Anyhow. for a while, every Wednesday, I'd come see my grandmother. Later, when I almost "failed" grade 8, I came here to catch up on work. And shortly after I moved, I began coming every summer and winter.
I can't remember why or when I was here--when I have internet maybe I'll check--but one of the most memorable of visits was at one of the worst points in my life. My grandmother understood, though, and the time was well spent. I was on my phone a bit too often though. When I look into the drawer to the right of me, it feels a bit jarring, for just like, i don't know. A second. Not seeing my medical stuff. And what reminds me, I guess nearing the end of the jarring second, is that I'm not bleeding, so Obviously I'm not opening it looking for medical stuff, and there is no reason for it to be there.
I do remember, this was a time I flew in. I miss flying in quite a bit, since I fucking love visitng airports and being on planes, especially alone. Although this time I don't think I had started flying alone...so it must've been one of the first (if not the first?) times I flew in.
This property is just the best for walks. Not on the road--and, I don't enjoy doing that anymore unfortunately, after I started doing it just to get steps in--but on the paths between buildings. The wood houses are kind of far away from the lake and barn, so it's a nice walk.
There used to be a pool too. It was a large, above ground pool, with a built deck on one of the short ends. It was the absolute best. I never visited without using it. When I was younger, my dad and I would visit just to swim. I'd have strawberries with maple syrup as well. Fresh, obviously, probably picked from the garden.
Just yesterday, when I was at my best friend's house, (just today, technically, at around four), I went on a walk to the gas station. I was hoping it would "fix" me, because walks tend to. In New Brunswick I can't walk anywhere, so I try to walk alone at least once everytime I visit.
I'm going to touch more on this later, but as of now, what's relevant is that I thought (or, I guess, I was speaking out loud to myself, so rather "I said") that I should just start writing down my memories. It's...really bad, knowing that I can only remember maybe five at a time, and dates mean nothing, and all that stuff. So I think I will. For me. To help remember.
But not right now.
I guess I'll talk about that walk now!
It was just 12 hours before I was to be picked up to come Here, to my grandmmothers, about an hour out. I felt bad because I wanted to get some sleep, but at the same time, like, redbull was calling me.
So I went out to get my redbull, and get my best friend some beef jerky. I had a few topics in mind that I had messaged another close friend of mine about, that I had in m ind to discuss.
I had been yearning for a walk after I realized that for the past few months I haven't been focusing on my life at all, rather, entirely myself and my relationships. Which is kind of shit. The topics, as I remember them, were as follows: 1. heart players and something about not being able to focus on life, 2. whats up with me not understanding or knowing anybody, 3. what the fuck to do 4. school question mark. Now, for reference, the heart players thing wasn't exactly what I meant by that. It wasn't about Homestuck, rather, just people who are too obsessed with themselves. Like me.
Uh, but I didn't do much. I spoke to myself out loud for a while. I used to do that a lot. Especially when I was around 11. I'd lay in the street and talk. Which isn't that emo, since I wasn't trying to kill myself or anything. I lived in the country, so I'd know if there were cars. Though there never were. It was nice. Never helped with much. I'd always just end up with "I don't know", over and over again, the gap between each lengthening until I guess I wasn't speaking at all any more. I'd forget whatever It Was at the time, then finish getting firewood and go back inside.
Now as I walked, I was anxious where I usually didn't need to be. I wasn't in the country anymore, rather, a little path just on the edge of the woods in the city. Maybe I'll attach pictures I took. The path was nice and lit despite the time. I had already walked on it once that day, and at that time I did see people as I walked, a parent with a child and someone with their dog. I had a switchblade my best friend suggested I take. It was a very tacky opal with a chain design on the side. So I kept checking behind me--not that I stopped talking. It wasn't until past this little path that I got to the "I Don't Know"s. That was when I was about two thirds to the gas station. I was quiet for a bit before continuing on about how there was just nothing to do. Which isn't that true, but I guess I always end up there if I don't stop talking. I just got to the gas station when I paused, obviously, and only spoke to whisper about how shit the deals were.
Althogh the deals actually werent that bad at all. This circle K had the best redbull deal I'd ever seen. which was Pretttyyy Awesome. So I bought some and left.
I didn't have to cross the street to get there, as I came up from behind the plaza it was near, but I walked on the sidewalk for about 15 meters to get to the entrance. I had been listening to music the entire time, but I took my headphones off to listen for cars. There were none. I kept looking
the power jsut flickered. I saw the lights on the studio--my window, the one in front of me, opposite the bed, faces the studio in such a way that the fairylights are in plain view--turn on for a minute. Man
I kept glancing up though. At the street lights. Since they...obviously changed despite the fact there were no cars, it was eye catching. I took my headphones off--my music was loud enough for me to still listen--and watched them for a minute. I pulled my bag from around me to grab a redbull (original). I wanted to sit down, but sitting in a well lit area with no one around seemed like a worse idea than just hanging out on the pathway there. Nonetheless, I crossed the street from where I was standing, and found a bench to sit on. Not...like, sit on properly. To crouch on. Like, sit on the top bit, since it was covered in snow. I had borrowed a pair of cozy pants from my best friend, so it was fine if they got a bit wet. I watched the lights and drank my drink. Eventually, I guess I had looked down and forgot to look back up, so I had been sitting just looking at the bench for a while. I don't think I was talking. Though I mightve been. If I was, it would've been about how, again, there's nothing to do, and I just have to stop talking to fix stuff. And maybe a bit about how I should try being a person without relying on other people's perceptions of me, though, that idea has never really stuck with me, considering I have never lived that way.
I had been.. I guess, spilling the redbull a bit, not that it mattered. It burned to wipe off a bit, but this was fine--my skin always burned in the winter anyway.
When I got up to leave, I stood in the middle of the road for a minute, just now reminded of those times in the country. There hadn't been a car in about 10 minutes, and I was betting that I could stand there for longer, but I didn't try. As I was walking, almost behind the plaza again, I was kind of annoyed at how I'd ended up just thinking about myself, despite one of the topics I was trying to think about being about how that's a huge fucking issue, and a bit about how anyone has ever felt bad for me--mostly because of the stuff I write. I decided to stop writing for people to see. I wanted to talk about the walk--and what was about to happen--with enough detail that future me could relive it--but without worrying those who care about me.
Clearly this didn't matter much in hindset, and I'm going to recount it anyway.
I was specifically Quite annoyed about (from what I recall, and was just recalling at the time) this thing I had said in a post, about how it doesn't matter that I don't have vices, because I should just throw myself at wall or something. This was annoying because as I walked, all of my friends were in New Brunswick drinking, and I had bought a lighter but didn't have anything to light. Like how fucking depressing is that? Anyway, I had got to thinking about how I used to hit myself, though I was never any good at it, and had to use tools (I guess in part due to how weak I am). Though this--what I was about to do, hitting myself--wasn't particularly comparable to what I used to do. I had been doing it a while ago to leave bruises. Which was because I couldn't cut myself anymore, and I missed stinging during class. That was...kind of emo, and I am sure I could've survived without it, though it certainly felt like I had no other choice at the time.
Now what I was walking and doing wasn't like that. It was willing, and pretty fantastic until I could hear the noises I was making. And while this is recounting of a sort, I'm not going to go over it with much literal detail, because I won't forget any of it. What I'd like to remind future me to remember with care is how I went about it. Which was without care, and in a way that really, really hurt, and was really, really embarrassing. Because it was not a good hurt, and it was very shameful. And you realized that when you took your bag off, set your drink down, took your cap and headphones off, and heard the effort it was taking to do yourself just a bit of damage. That's like, humiliating. They're saying he's too weak to leave a mark. Like holy shit dude. Get over it. I just ask that You ask Yourself this: how much do you have to deserve something--you in particular--to do ANYTHING without question and hesitation? I'd say, a whole lot. Maybe that means something.
And I did get over it. At the end of the winding path, I sat my can down, empty, crushed it, and kicked it down the street to my best friends house. I have the crushed can in my backpack now.
At some point on the walk, I was verbally reminding myself about how much better everyone was than me. Now, in writing, this is pretty attention seeking. But that's okay, because it isn't for You, reader, it's for Me. and I know that I was saying that because it's true, and because I need to get into the habit of reminding myself to...try to be someone, so that I really do deserve to talk to and treat people even, like, half as "bad" as I treat them.
I'll add onto this later, maybe. I love this house. I turned the lamp next to me on, so hopefully when the power comes on, I'll wake up, and can talk to my friends.
thanks.