Death Cab does this to me.

I'm not going to whine. Just ponder a few things. It's been a while since I've felt very passionately about someone consistently. I mean in all possible emotions, from love to hate. I feel strongly towards people, but I am still missing that burning, almost achy feeling in your chest when you feel passionately about someone or something. I can still kind of remember what it was like, since that feeling ruled my high school career.
I don't feel as if I've lost my passion, I feel as if I may have put it aside to focus on other things. I think it began when I was torn apart the spring of my senior year. One day, I might actually have the courage to write down what happened to me in my mind, but let me assure you, it wasn't just due to my psuedo-breakup deal with Kevin. Anywho, I think the events of those few weeks sent my body and mind into a kind of shock. I suppressed my feelings. I learned not to feel anything to hide from being hurt. I suppose after years and years of wearing on my psyche, a teenage mind with a mild psychological disorder can only take so much. So I shut down. I stopped feeling. Passion was now last on my list of priorities and I threw myself into school and band and TBS and my friends. And slowly, all of these things healed me. It was like I put myself under anesthesia and my friends and family were the surgeons who put me back together, even if it was unintentional. Now, I'm awake. I know I can feel, and I know it's just around the corner. I'm waking up from my self induced emotional coma.
It's kind of scary, but I want it here. To keep going with the surgical analogies, I think it's like waking up after a surgery, still a bit numb, but miraculously, during that time you were asleep, everything that was wrong was fixed. Now I've had time to heal from those wounds, and I'm ready to test myself again.
I feel those vestiges of passion in me. Especially when I listen to music. You know that little pull right by your heart, kind of close to your throat? Like your breath is catching in a really stiff wind? It's there. I know I can feel more, I know I can. I'm kind of scared to though, even the whisperings in my chest of past feelings freak me out. I want to feel passion, but am so completely and utterly terrified of what that will do to me. I'm always on the defensive, and that hinders my ability to really feel when I open up. It's like there's one little bit of my mind that's screaming at me "Don't do this! You haven't been hurt like you used to be in almost two solid years! Isn't it best just to be numb? Don't let them hurt you again!" It's terrifying.

So what brought this on, you may ask? As usual, I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie. (Side Note: I thought I lost the entire album of "Transatlanticism" when I transferred my files from my old computer to my new computer. I went a whole month without listening. But then, in my complete and utter genius with a little [or a lot] of help from Google, I realized that my files were just being trixy little hobbitses and hiding. So I pulled them out of their comfortable hold of ComputerShire and sent them forth to save the world from destruction. AKA Return to iTunes and thus, my life.) SO I was listening to my favorite album from Death Cab, you guessed it, Transatlanticism. And the song "We Looked Like Giants" came on. And it made me realize, I wish I had someone to sing about. Corntastic, right? But it's true. When I was a young emo kid of about 15 I used to write poetry and song lyrics. Granted, they were shitty 15 year old emo kid poems and song lyrics, but I felt. I really, really meant what I wrote and felt it with my entire being. Listening to that song brought back echoes of those feelings. Of the passion that I used to feel. Of the fact that I used to be able to care for someone so deeply, I would stay up at night writing about how they made me feel. Or that I could hate someone so passionately, I would waste more time on them than necessary to write how I felt. But I was alive. I'm tired of being an emotional zombie. I'm pulling aside this mental curtain I've hung in front of myself and am ready to face the world. I'll need sunglasses for awhile, and my friends are going to help me more than they know. But I'm ready. To put it delicately, fuck this shit. I'm going out and I'm doing it right this time.




Oh and P.S. to all you nosy bastards that read this from the link in my profile and scoff at what I've written. I can hear your thoughts now, "Oh puh-lease Beth has just felt sorry for herself her entire life. She should just get over it." What bullshit. Ask me about what really went down those few weeks, especially those bitches from high school who have their own version of my collapse in their minds. Maybe before making judgements you should look a little deeper. It would only be too easy to discover that I wasn't just some jealous girl who felt sorry for herself, if only I was then maybe I wouldn't be writing this right now. I'm pretty messed up in the head. And it's from a long line of things I had no control over, both that occured throughout my life and chemically in my brain. So fuck you if you think I'm faking this because I look happy all the goddamn time. I've developed an ability to lie to others about how I really feel without them questioning it. So really, please, if you want to say something about anything I've written here, post a comment. Anonomously even. Just please, take into consideration that there are multiple factors at work here, and I'm working on figuring them all out.

and P.P.S. to everyone who is a little shocked at my rant. Shit went down in high school. There is a reason I'm only close to three people in my graduating class. I may write about it sometime, but I just had to get that off my chest. It's been stirring in my mind for a while. However, please ask me if you have any questions or anything else. I'm trying to open up again, that's what this whole entry was about.