more than a few years ago i watched bo burnham’s ‘make happy’ with this guy I had been talking to on tinder for a few hours. I went to his house at 3am, and we watched make happy and we cried together. he chipped his tooth because he was so nervous, and his tarantula had gotten out of its cage and was somewhere in the room. I didn’t care. it was one of those perfectly within and without nights. I found out 6 months ago or so that he committed suicide. I watched the make happy kanye west rant for the first time since I found out just now. I wrote this before I watched it.
my therapist told me to write a eulogy for this version of myself, but right now I just want to revel in the sadness. it is all encompassing, like a blanket after a freezing cold day. I dont want to talk to anyone, but herein lies the problem. if I dont talk to anyone then everyone falls behind and it gets dangerous. I cant afford to not talk to anyone, because i’ll get to that place I have a hard time coming back from and i’ll end up in hospital again– which I cannot afford. so what do you do when you don’t want to talk to anyone? I want something but I cant quite place it. something would get me out of this, but i’m not allowed to name it. scared to be alone, but somehow happy to sit here and be miserable. it might as well be 5am. I feel as alone as I would if it was. and I pushed everyone away. why did I do that? dont I realize that my actions have consequences? the short answer is no. I never consider my actions because im a bad person whos fucking up my life. whos to blame? prob me. I take full accountability and at the same time I accept none.
here lies asia vettergreen. a sad, clingy, pathetic version of herself. not the confident, independent, handling-herself asia that we knew and loved, but this alone and scared version that took her place.
I need a drink, but would that push me over the edge? into dangerous territory, carving into my gums. when is enough enough? when do I pull back the people I pushed away? they were all holding candles for me, incapable of holding my own, in more ways than one. assessing the damage and surveying the scene it seems ive sustained much more injury than originally guessed. my wounds are popping open, and who will be there to lick the spots I can’t reach? such is the most important question in my life, it seems. I need to workout my tongue.
the truth is my biggest problem is you,
I wanna please you, and give you the night out you deserve,
but I wanna say what I think, and not care what you think about it
part of me loves you
part of me hates you
part of me needs you
part of me fears you,
and I dont think that I can handle this right now.