Day 5 – Part III

Hello, Gandalf! It’s been one short hour and I’ve come to a billion different conclusions. Let’s goooo!

First off, there’s no need for me to talk to you in that dull and depressing manner. Yes, it’s honest, and I should “be able to speak freely with myself” but it’s also quite counterproductive. When the only pillar you’ve got to lean on is yourself, wouldn’t you rather it was a smiley face pillar than sad faced one? From now on, while being completely forthright about my unhappiness and bad moods, I shall simultaneously try to be dry and crass and witty and funny and all of those assorted doohickeys. I want to speak like me, no matter what happens. So! With that, I am only allowed to be depressed if I can at least try to act like Oscar Wilde during it. Win-win! After all, this thing’s bark is much worse than its bite. I’m feeling both right now, baby, but there’s no way that it can bite worse than me. Or bark, for that matter. I know for a fact that if I’d screamed as loud as I wanted to when they stuck that damned injection in me today to steal my blood then that hospital would’ve had to build another hospital next to it to cure tinnitus. I bark louder, I bite harder. (ask anyone who held me when I was tiny) In short, I WIN!

Now, other things! One comes to the most irksome conclusions sometimes. On one such occasion, I came to the irreducible conclusion that one must understand one’s grief management techniques. It was then that I started writing to you. Unfortunately, or fortunately, who knows; you aren’t real. This, as you can imagine, is slightly problematic for the one in question. On the one hand, meaning no offense, it is extremely liberating to write to you, Hairy. On the other, and meaning full offense, IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU SAY BECAUSE IT’S ME SAYING IT. 

Now, I know full well that I shouldn’t have to go this alone blah blah blah. And it’s also rather unfair for me to pretend that I am going this alone. Amnah has been a splendid help to me. But, being a human being, there are periods when she can’t help. Like now. In moments like those, my grief management techniques split into two further options.

1) I keep writing to you like an oaf. This will happen whether or whether not I elect to take up the second option.

2)I tell OJ and/or Khan.

I have several SEVERAL issues with this idea instinctively which is why I’m telling you.

Firstly, Khan. I mentioned recently some issues I had with him. There are other; in the last few months, everytime we’ve had a conversation which is even halfway from being the shallow insipid pond that it usually is, HE’S MADE IT ENTIRELY ABOUT HIM. His struggles are real, but they are no reason to overpower mine. And I’ve decided this is not an issue I share to equal degree. I do not shove my issues down people’s throats. I ask nicely and THEN I shove them down people’s throats. Plus, why on earth would I think that I have this issue??? Amnah says I don’t, and she’d know.

More than that, my history with Khan is such that I’d be uncomfortable confiding in him about this and honestly, I don’t think telling him this would bring me any relief.

OJ. I was emotionally connected to OJ once, or as emotionally connected as the stunted younger Taha could’ve been. I do believe that telling him would be helpful on the level of immediate relief. However, multiple issues. For one, OJ is not a particularly emotionally helpful person. This much I remember. Two, he is not an emotionally invested person. I’ve seen his relationship. Relationships are just friendships decorated with bananas and lychees and oranges anyways. I don’t want to dive into something which will only eat me up. Thirdly, I’m uncomfortable mildly with the idea of telling anyone. Yes, laugh it up you old dog, let me just remind you you’re not real and have no hopes and ambitions.

I have elected to sleepover at Khan’s place with OJ today. I’m probably not going to have what the Irish call a grand old time, but it will serve to keep me distracted somewhat. I doubt that I shall tell KHan, and whether or not I tell OJ will depend on the whims I feel in the moment during my stay. Let’s see how this goes, Gandalf. The game is on!

P.S. I NEED A HAT

P.P.S I NEED A HAT OF SELF-DEPENDENCE

P.P.P.S IF YOU COULD MAKE IT BLUE, THAT’D BE GREAT

P.P.P.P.S I’m going to host a public but anonymous version of this on wordpress 

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