my dad used to stay up all night, taking things apart and putting them together again. i would wake up and hear the faint reverberation of the hammer through the air vents or the door to the garage opening slowly and with a conscious effort to not wake us up. i'd hear the toaster pop up two, three, sometimes four times a night depending on how much he had smoked to try to calm himself from the uppers he was on. it never worried me though; it was just typical and expected.
tonight i stayed awake all night, the way i have been for weeks. instead of building walls and shelves like my dad would i made hair pins, collages, and a brooch out of this rose petal that i took from the flower i laid on my grandfather's casket just before he was buried. (I KNOW it may sound a little morbid but i wanted to make it into something beautiful i can wear everyday instead of keeping it in the little air tight contraption i built for it to go in originally) i kept making things compulsively, painting gold shimmer over everything. it's because i'm not stifling myself anymore and a torrent of me make things now motivation kept me going. i was shivering and starving but i didn't care because i was so comfortable despite the ikea chair that i was sitting on was as plush as a scandinavian rock. thoughts of my dad floated in and out. if he had been awake with me he would have come into the kitchen to make some toast and a joke about how "goofy" my dangly stone ribcage hair thing was. i realized i was thinking about him as he was,a real person; not the glazed eye doppelganger i have been remembering him as, even though that is what he is, now at least. i thought of the job i want and need and school and other important teenage things. but clearly, unlike the sordid things i've been thinking about and obsessing over for the last year or so.
there were times when i thought i felt normal; my sense of it which is really different from what's generally accepted as normal. but it would last for a car ride maybe or just one of those transcendent nights. then it would fade rapidly and mental catatonia would take over again. i was genuinely lost. i was a puppeteer propping up the carcass that used to house my soul. i would actually look at myself and not feel any connection to the reflection i saw. but tonight, when i tried my bridal pearl head wreath on for size, and i saw myself i didn't have to stop and check if it was me because i knew innately that it was.
there are obvious side effects of the complete detachment i was under the curse of. lying is one that i absolutely hated. i felt false and constantly had to reassure myself that i had pure intentions. another is relationships being grinded down to nothing but silence, because no matter how great of a pretender anyone is, including me, human perception sees past the imitation of emotions because they can't be faked.most people knew there was something wrong with me. i made people uncomfortable and that made me uncomfortable and the whole situation was unnerving. my best friend is the only one who i felt completely comfortable talking to about anything, but only after the fact. and she lives so far away in a small little town i'm afraid i'll never get to visit but again, it doesn't matter. knowing she exists is enough.
"enough" right now is just enough to make me content. except words and thoughts and ideas which i want to keep expanding and growing. my homemade hair accessory collection is also going to keep growing if i keep this up and now without resorting to light at the end of the tunnel type sentiments i'm going to try to spell out what's going on in my head in as syllables as few possible...i am finally fucking happy. and it's so so glorious.