Reflections 'n' Crap

Well, it's been around two months since Dave died, and I've written exactly fuck all about it on this site. Most of the reason for my absence probably stems from being completely worn out in regard to sentimentality; especially so as it relates to watching others go what I consider way overboard with it.

Seriously, for an entire week after he died I watched one person talk to him on his Facebook wall every morning. To me, this was sort of like pulling out the stitches from a fresh, deep cut, so I had to block her from my home page feed so that I could continue to interact with her IRL (In Real Life for you internet noobs).

The fun part? I like to pretend I'm moving forward when I'm really not. Unlike most of the people surrounding me, I don't get prescriptions for anti-depressants, or counseling/therapy, or, well, anything like that. Since I'm not working, I don't have insurance, which means that I don't get any sort of medical coverage. The good news is that I may actually have the fees necessary to fully establish my residency in here, but that really just means that I might or might not be eligible for programs that, while helpful, will also serve to demoralize me from a personal standpoint.

So, basically, I just get to continue being depressed over everything and further withdraw into my cave. This particular "vacation" from classes actually hasn't helped my mental well-being in the least bit.

I see things. Not hallucinations or anything of that nature... it's just that every once in a while I'll involuntarily visualize pictures that got burned into my brain on Dave's last day, such as my attempts to help him get to the bathroom to pee, or Mom sitting there with him, or smoking that last bowl with him and seeing that he couldn't inhale deeply enough to get a hit, or a room full of people yelling "We Love You!" at him right at the moment that he passed. I was there, right outside the room.

I see this stuff all the time.

It doesn't really help that I'm still living in the house where he died. I'm glad he didn't die in the hospital, though, because he really didn't want to die in the goddamn hospital. But I'm still living here, and I'm still surrounded by all his stuff.

I sincerely can't fucking imagine how Bryan feels right now; he's sleeping in the room his father died in.

My biggest problem is that I really want to help others get through their problems, but I'm the blind trying to lead the blind in that regard. Sure, I can present the illusion that I'm okay, and I can function passably well with regard to my classes, but then I get home and lock myself in my goddamn cave and just... fester.

Every time I get a job opportunity, it requires either a car (which I don't have anymore) or daytime hours that I don't have available because of classes, or nighttime hours that would mean I wouldn't have any time to study for my classes and sleep. I mean, I could give up sleep, sure, but I think my grades might suffer.

Basically, thanks to Flagship and Cancer, everything that I spent my entire adult life trying to get away from has sucked me right the fuck back in. It's funny, though... I spent a lot of time in NC and CA romanticizing WV, and now, when I finally get back, I find that the only thing I like about it is my (extended) family and the landscape. It's such a pretty state, and so many of the people are so ugly inside. I feel like it's fairly dangerous to be open about my atheism, or being center-left politically. I don't relate to half my Facebook friends, and the other half are too far away.

(Edited to add: It's a good thing I actually love my family. It would really really suck if my family sucked, too)

But it would be remiss to blame a lot of this stuff one one state. I used to get pissed off when conservatives would bring out the tired old "Why do you hate your country?" argument, but now I have an answer: "It's YOU."

However, that's externalizing. It's actually remiss to blame anyone else for how I feel. I feel how I feel because that's how I feel; nobody's making me feel this way except for me.

The bad part is that, in order to get the fuck out of the US (which I'm actively working on right now) I have to be able to get out of this funk and do something.

Fuck, I don't even remember what my point was when I started this. I think I was supposed to be remembering Dave, but I started to get emotional and apparently put a stop to that crap.

I just want to GTFO of something. I don't even know what.