For long, my blog has been dedicated to one person mostly , for whom I actually started this site and never quite got around to deleting it which I used to do all the time-Love. Love doesn’t like his picture taken, love doesn’t like to look at his own pictures. My writings were quite similar to that, A picture of the inside of those neurons firing away inside my mind.
I have been a captive of depression, anxiety, agoraphobia and a bunch of other things. It is hard to keep track of when you’re having high doses of valium each day, doozy dizzy all the time, half mumbling the words, half remembering them, wondering whether they were real or just a dream. Agoraphobia is often, but not always, compounded by a fear of social embarrassment, as the agoraphobic fears the onset of a panic attack and appearing distraught in public. Triggers for this anxiety may include wide-open spaces, crowds (social anxiety), or traveling (even short distances). So love has known in his heart that even if I am bursting with excitement to go out “out” , it’s the worst idea. When he takes me out, he knows he has to be careful, like you’re around a baby that’s just born a few days ago. You check the bathwater ten , sometimes twenty times, before putting your baby in it to see whether it’s too cold or too hot. You check their food for solid pieces for the million times before putting it inside your her mouth. I am like that baby and my home, um no, my room is the womb of protection I hate leaving , so when I finally come out of it after floating for days in the shape of water in my lurid reality or dreams, Love knows I will cry. I will cry my eyes out, even if everything is more than perfect because there is always too much light, too much noise , too much space and even if he is there to rock me back and forth in his arms, and keep me close so I can get his warmth I will cry. I have horrible mood swings . So some days when love looks for me I am right there behind his back , running so love doesn’t see me and I can jump and hug , and surprise love from his back , and some days I am sleeping for 36 hours leaving love’s insomniac self to look at his roof and move his retina in the track of the cracks. Some days when I am happy I always crack lame jokes, and even if love says he hates them, I know love smiles, and sometimes I am asking love the same questions with an interval of minutes 5 like would you leave me? would I be able to sit for the exam? would you send me to an asylum when I am too heavy a work? would you leave me? would I be able to sit for the exam? would you send me to an asylum when I am too heavy a work?would you leave me? would I be able to sit for the exam? would you send me to an asylum when I am too heavy a work?would you leave me? would I be able to sit for the exam? would you send me to an asylum when I am too heavy a work?would you leave me? would I be able to sit for the exam? would you send me to an asylum when I am too heavy a work? and he answers them like love is hearing them for the first time when the truth is he knows every change of voice , every permutation and combinations of the possibilities of the frame of the questions in my mind.
As I mentioned I hate wide open space and crowd. So our wedding photoes will have a frowning bride. Love always asks me what’s wrong . Love has trained himself like people in army base, to look for the slightest dangers- is her hands shaking a bit too much? is she cold when it’s 30 degrees in the food mart? Is she smiling with her lips closed to hide a clattering pair of teeth ? Is she alright? her hands shaking a bit too much.she is cold. It’s not alright. Cause he knows my anxiety holds me a hostage and doesn’t let me talk even when I most need to , he knows that asking is futile, so he looks for the signs so me and my anxiety can have a quiet date at the back storage room of my mind.
Love knows I forget things . So it happens that love has been planning for my birthday for 1 month and smiling and taking about films and everyday chores in his without giving me the slightest hint of what I am missing cause sooner or later I will know and be filled with regret and love doesn’t want either the sooner or later to happen, love wants me to forget those things like I forget our late night talks and early morning good morning and good byes. Love is really good at keeping me alive. My hand is devoid of any newcomer scars for straight 6 months. Love is really good at keeping me alive. Even if it takes every piece of him
Love is really good at making me alive and happy and alive and happy and alive.