Haven’t posted in 3 days, haven’t had time to write, the motivation to write, or the need to reply.
Last night though, I had this weird thing happen when I was faded beyond measure. It was, I suppose, a realisation of a disconnect.
Though before getting into that, I suppose I’ll juxtapose the intensity of the realisation to the simplicity of the day. I woke up like early, a friend was making breakfast, so had to wake up. Even though I swear to you, I contemplated the consequences of not going as I kept smashing that snooze button.
It was pretty nice, the breakfast. Smoking in the sun though, that was a difficult task.
Almost 16 hours since I started writing this, I’m still struggling to talk about what the real problem is.
I guess the best way is to go at it.
I don’t have fucking internet… so I’m stuck listening to music that I’m not feeling. For some reason Afraid – NBHD has been ringing in my head constantly, so has daddy issues, but no internet so we settle with Vancouver Sleep Clinic.
These days, when I’m high there’s only one thought that comes to my mind, it constantly arises when I’m sober as well, but it becomes unbearable in the night, when I’m left to my own volition.
I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember, and I’m so afraid of forgetting, or that I have forgotten.
I never knew the past would simply become a couple photo’s you can’t forget and some experiences you shared. It’s like everything that has happened from the minute I was conscious enough to remember all to the end of 2019, isn’t something I’ve experienced. If it makes sense, I just remember myself as a character in the stories. I remember going to mcdonalds, because I know we went to mcdonalds, I don’t remember exactly what happened, even once. Same goes for the trips to the beach, there were so many. The sea was supposed to be safety, but not after it was dyed red. It’s as if I remember going for brekky with some friends at cafe clifton, just as much as I remember picking up breakfast on the days I used to bunk school and stay in, being at peace. I remember so much, the toffee on Christmas, the waffles, waffles I made in college, to the ones, I made for my loved one, to the ones I shared with addi in Creams. It’s like I remember that it all happened. But I can’t remember any of the feelings, any of the words, any bit of the actual experience beyond just knowing that it happened.
It scares me to my core, how sometimes at night as I lay awake, my head starts ringing trying to remind myself that it is my life, not one I am just spectating, I don’t know, I haven’t felt in control in quite some time. I am just so afraid that if this is the concept of memories I don’t want any. I don’t want to just remember things that happened, I want to remember feelings. I want to be able to engage with my past, just as I do with the present, or at least just as I try to.
It’s as if the first time I walked into college and made friends with this entire group of people, I would never normally have known, because of my ex. I remember sitting on a stool, I remember that there were dance practices, I remember that there was this spot on the roof, right in front of the foosball tables, hidden from the cameras. That’s where I tasted blood for the first time (that sounds real weird, but I’ll leave it vague, it wasn’t unhygienic or anything).
The problem is I remember all this shit happened, but I don’t remember that I actually lived through it, if that makes sense. I’m not friends with a single person from college, the only ones I am close to are ones who I grew to know after graduating. So every friend, the life I once lived, that revolved around Saba Avenue, Sea View, Saddar and on Tipu Sultan is gone. I don’t talk to any of them, nasty split up I suppose. So there’s this constant disconnect, that I feel. Like I lived through it, but it wasn’t me actually living through it, maybe it’s because I didn’t value and cherish most of them, maybe it’s because I shouldn’t have cut out every semblance of normalcy I had.
What’s the point in constantly moving on, constantly moving forward when you can’t for the sake of your own sanity remember the path you just tread. Is the goal just supposed to be not stopping? Never being at peace? Always needing to run on, because you threw away what home was supposed to be? When you take being in a group of 6 for granted, just so that you can be more? I’ve learnt one thing though. Don’t take any experience for granted. It’s easy remembering the bad over the good, unless in the case of an addiction, than the bad just throws itself out the window.
Why can’t I just be still? Why can’t I just sit on a bench, and not ache, not have my lungs absorb what the fabric on my body perfumes.
Why can’t I just have the friends I want back?
See now, even I realise that’s BS.
As I wrote that sentence, I realised.
That the friends I have right now are beautiful. They are intelligent, strong, independent, and although each of them struggles, they will make it out, cause that’s just the kind of people they are.
If I simply draw a comparison to my closest friends in the past, and those I have now. Only one is included in both; I suppose Omar did stay, it was a task though, making stuff alright.
Otherwise, a couple people from the 5 of my past, I couldn’t care less about. Like there’s only one that I lose no sleep over, but the other’s A and M I suppose were nice back then, when times were simpler. Other than that, I don’t know if you could call a partner just a friend, but she was in it too. It was a simple time. Life was simple, it didn’t seem to pull you down, just slap you up a bit, if that makes sense.
There are people in my life, who at this moment are individually superior, in character, drive, and most things that matter than the people from my past. But that’s because they are grown ups, we were kids. Really isn’t a comparison. If I still spoke to any of them, it would be funny to see how they grew up. How the supposed heart of the family’s split caused everyone to start to hate on each other, or at least not take shit anymore. How the whole system collapsed, cause of what was adolescent love.
I guess what I genuinely am afraid of, is forgetting how life was simple and bearable. Cause at this point, the way it’s going. I feel like I’ll forget that life can get easier, that it’s more than a perpetual state of exhaustion.
I suppose there’ll come a day when I wonder why I thought this was so hard. But I hope it’s cause I make my way out of it, rather than fall so deep that this current state pales in comparison.
I want to be able to think about my memories, like I actually lived them. Not like they were just things that happened. I can’t articulate that any better, at this point in the day.
Literally uploading this 6 hours after writing it, there’s a storm, it’s raining and windy as fuck. But gotta upload. No internet in fucking dorm.
A Sane Undertaking 