Anonymous: I miss your updates, friend. I check up on you about every other day, and it always brightens my mood a little bit to see how you're doing, despite that you rarely talk about being entirely well.

I…I simply haven’t felt well enough to write near anything. I’ve been imprisoned in my mind most of these days and they’ve blurred together so much that I scantly remember sleeping between each cycle. I’m rather glad to hear of someone that enjoys my words, even if I write so morosely, and I’m sure I’ll continue writing some day, just some day soon rather than now.

I didn’t even feel sad before tonight, not about the subject of my grandmother. I was talking to my mother while cooking dinner and her memorial came up because of a card that came. I was outspoken and a slight angry about how impersonal it was, feelings that I didn’t even have during the service, and my mother agreed and started crying when she remembered parts of her mothers life. In retrospect, my bottom jaw was shaking.

When I sat down later and started typing, I began forming strings of words that I seemed right, they flowed off my fingertips and formed works that I feel were horribly depressing. At least, they placed me in a depressive state and they weren’t only about my feelings, my mother’s too. Her sadness and my anger, I channeled those emotions and it felt better after. Still, my vision blurred from the tears and my face was hot with blood.

Less than subtle topic change to something happier.

I also went over to a friend’s house for most of the day. We were supposed to go on a walk around the neighborhood with another friend but when he arrived, he started eating and we all fell into a conversational mindset, forgetting about the walk. I was going to tell them about my frustrations and sadness at that point, but my friend’s sister got home and I didn’t want to openly share. Then another person came, and later, four more people arrived. It became a large group that I didn’t feel like I could talk in personally anymore so I said nothing and pretended to be happy as best I could until I left. About 8 hours of pretending but I used to pretend all the time when I had school. Shut up now.

Also, if you’re reading this and you care, you don’t need to, poison deserves no care.

Today was a day of sadness, established in memory of a departing soul so that those alive can have some certain degree of closure in their lives knowing that a family member, once suffering in pain, has passed and attained something they assume to be peace. This morning, I woke and dressed to attend my grandmother’s memorial service, along with the remainder of my immediate family and relatives I never knew I had.

The thing I took away from this was how impersonal memorial services are to the person no longer there. During what I can only assume was called ‘the showing,’ there were perhaps 3 or 4 out of 20 plus people that paid their respects to my grandmother. The remaining population stayed a clear meter away from her, with their backs turned. I don’t know what drove their actions, either a sense of trying to forget or of keeping up appearances with a smile and nod. Maybe there was something more complex at work. Maybe I was in the wrong by judging these people who probably had a closer connection to her than I did. Then came the burial service, I can only assume. The casket was wheeled out past her grave marker and propped up, where an overly zealous man delivered a speech by reading her obituary and quoting readings from the Bible over a woman that wasn’t fairly religious in any denomination. He also pronounced my mother’s name wrong when he was reading of my grandmother’s children, the ones to carry on her spirit, as he put it. After perhaps 10 minutes of him talking, we were told that was the end and we had to trust that they’d place her in her proper grave, which was only marked by a curtain and a scissor-lift. Nice touch. Also, the entire time, I got to find out that my mother was something of a black sheep in her family and because my siblings and I were her children, there was an uneasy shift as people collected around us slowly drifted away.

The entire affair made me think of my own coming funeral. I feel like my immediate family is close, like they will be sad, like they will be together around me, while my grandmother’s family and children seemed extremely distant. I don’t want that.
Potentially, the only thing I can take from this is that I can look decent in a hand-me-down suit and that reubens are a delicious sandwich.

I’m sorry, grandmother. I’d say rest well, but with my beliefs, that’d be redundant. Still, the sentiment’s there.

Uh…what day is it? No, that’s too far ahead, I’m still too tired.

Yesterday, I went with a few friends to the midnight showing of Hunger Games. Good movie, might I add, and it kept relatively true to the book. It was a fun and long night that involved a lot of whispering during the film, changing seats, watching a movie, and shouting before and after. It was interesting that the theater I had attended opened up half its theater rooms for just this one film while with many other premiere movies, they only had one room open. Goes to show how much more popular Hunger Games is in my region than Twilight and Harry Potter, haha. I think I had more to talk about at some point but I’ve certainly forgotten it. That’s unfortunate.

Oh, does anyone remember me typing about my grandmother before? I said she was in hospice before, but she actually passed away Wednesday night, which broke my mother’s heart. There’ll be a service on Monday that I’ll attend and that’s all I pretty much can say on that subject. I was never too close to my grandmother to be affected and just typing that makes me feel less than human. I should feel something, shouldn’t I? I mean, I feel sad when characters in novels and stories that I’ve read die, why can’t I feel anything for my own grandmother?

My eyes are starting to burn. Well, they have been but now it’s unbearable to look at the screen anymore. Stop complaining.

I’m going to type all this out while not being able to post it because of a weird router. I’m not sure what’s going on but I lose internet completely sometimes during the night on all my devices and there’s nothing obviously wrong.
Now, two days ago, I typed about how my interactions with people had changed since I was a kid. Well, I just wanted to note another, more recent change, that seems to define me most notably now. I think I’ve stopped caring about things that I really should be caring about.

Today, my mother spoke to my brother and I about how her mother was put into hospice, or put on hospice, I’m not sure how to use the term too well as it doesn’t come about often. As she was talking about it, she said that her mother was giving up eating and trying to end it all quicker because she didn’t want to be supported by machines. I tried and I couldn’t feel a thing for the poor women, my last-living grandparent. Sure, I haven’t seen her but half a dozen times in my life but shouldn’t I feel something when family is close to death? I tried the entire time my mother was talking to feel something, anything, even the smallest bit of empathy for her. Nothing.

Does this make me a bad person? does this distance make me less human? Less of a person? I can’t even tell if I should be feeling worried.

I can actually remember when I started to let go, emotionally. It was the middle of middle school. I was a competitive child and I used to get very angry when I lost in games and events so much so that I’d damage things. People didn’t like me for it, clearly, so I changed as completely as I could but I think I pushed it too far. I tried to care less about winning and now I think I don’t care about much at all anymore, as awful as it sounds. I can fake the interest sometimes but I just don’t feel it.

I’m not sure about this aspect of myself, I just felt like typing about it because it makes me feel better just to see it all written out in tangible (enough) words. I feel like I’m admitting it and that might be able to help me feel something at some point.

Gladys, I think that was my grandmother’s name.

I watched the second Battle Royale movie and despite all the dying, all the characters coming and going, I only really cared for one part. During a flashback that one of the girls was having, she was talking with her father the day after her birthday. He came in, wishing her happy birthday and she corrected him and told him to get out. That set the entire dynamic for their relationship. The father trying to reach out to his daughter but failing to do so and the daughter scorning his failed attempts. That wasn’t the part that affected me though, it was when he was walking out of the room. He turned to her and put his fingers up to his head like a gun and said, “this is what you’d like, isn’t it?” and she looked disgusted for a moment before responding “are you crazy?” The smile that he had when he closed the door was like he had finally made impact in his daughter’s life, like he had some merit to being around. I felt happy for the both of them.

He wasn’t even a character in the manga the the first film was based off of but I’m really glad he was included in the film. His character was so much more sad than the other characters, in my opinion, and his death was just so tragic. He and his daughter were the only characters I actually cared for.

For some reason, I got to thinking about my interactions with people and how they’ve changed. When I was really young, in elementary school, I was a slight more active than I am now, always trying to get the attention of someone. Only, when I got the attention, I didn’t know what to do with it, I’d always mess up and feel bad about myself when they lost interest in me, when I couldn’t make adequate friends. I went out on a limb for most people, trying to make friends with them as best I could. It’s not that I was nice or anything, I was simply desperate and I had this ever-growing void in me that I felt could only be filled with friends. I changed schools and didn’t have very many close people to say bye to but I became special when I changed schools. Special in my mind, at least. I realized that I could be anyone now, that I could be friends with people and not be so desperate. How I could, I still didn’t know, but I had hope for it. Luckily, I didn’t have to try very hard. At that time, people were more open than I had been used to and I became friends with a lot of people and I had a few close friends which made me feel better.

When I got into middle school, that’s when I started feeling depressed about myself. I don’t know which even, in particular, set it off but I know it was around that time. All those friends I had made back in elementary school didn’t seem so important so I started pushing them away and, for some reason, that only way I could think to do that was by being perverse in mind and language. I became the pervert that made sexual innuendos when he could and was uneasy friends with just about everyone. In my mind, it all made sense and I would always feel accomplished, having the thought, “when I’m gone, no one will be sad.” I was warped enough to think that was a good thing, that I’d make everything better. I wasn’t thinking that I thought of my own death, just that I was making a common uneasiness among people, that they could hate me more and each other a little less.

Thankfully, I realized that was a bad idea later in my school years. A friend of mine asked me why I acted that way. At the time, I made up a reason that kept me in character, but that question nagged at me most nights and I finally realized how sad I was. I couldn’t tell anyone because I had basically ostracized myself from any close friends and my family was having problems of their own. I bottled it all up and carried on.

Even during the beginning of high school, I still wasn’t proper in dealing with people, I became malleable, easily changed by the people I met. I called myself a thief, taking the personalities of others, bit by bit, changing myself in the process. I tried to be everyone’s best friend by being more like them, reacting to situations in ways I had seen people do before. In essence, I was a mask, putting up a front I didn’t particularly understand. Eventually, I grew into my mask, that falseness that showed on my outside, and I might have fractured a little bit, becoming a little different with each new experience.

That doesn’t make sense but I’ve lost steam with typing so I think I’m going to give up for the night and call it a… morning, not night. I doubt much of this entry will make sense as it flowed from me quickly and in random intervals. Still, I typed it and that’s what matters.

Seems I place Tumblr at the end of my list of priorities these days. I’m not certain if it’s good or bad that I do that so I’ll call it a neutral effort on my part. It’s not like I feel any sort of anxiety whether I’m here or not, typing away about my days, or days when I forget. Well, let’s get to it, shall we?

I’ve been spending my previous days playing Mass Effect 3 and reading a new manga that I found called Battle Royale. I think there’s a sequel to the manga so I’m going to try to read it after as I am really enjoying it. It’s a rather sadistic manga with lots of gore, bodies, and less than pleasant themes but i think that’s what makes it great.

I’ve done a few others things these past few days but they’re not worth mentioning. Also, the backs of my legs are really sore and uncomfortable making sitting down a kind of chore. Well, not a chore so much as just uncomfortable. I suppose I’m also a bit depressed. Oh well on that matter though, no one really cares.

Here’s to a good night for everyone else, I’m going now.