Cait's Insane Rants

"So. Saw Heitner. Talked. Told him what was going on. Completely honest. 

He has no idea. 

::head desk::

So what does he do? He doesn't mess with any dosages, he takes me off the Rozerem. You know. The sleeping pill that worked, unlike any of it's predecessors. Great. Fantastic. Then he also orders a blood test, which I got done today. 

I'm thinking that he thinks I'm on drugs or something. Not prescription, but illegal. Which I'm not, because if I did everyone I'm friends with would murder me. So I went to Palo Alto today. Signed in. Waited. Got called back by a pretty and smiling nurse. She was nice, asked my birth date, my doctor's name, and then put the needle in. I watched her take five vials. I then felt hot, then dizzy, then weightless. They (some more people showed up out of nowhere) told me to lay my head down. I did. And I thought I was going to pass out. After a minute they helped me up and walked me to a room right around the corner. I couldn't even walk on my own, and as I stumbled along, the world went fuzzy and grey until they got me to a bed. I then threw up what little I'd eaten today on the floor and laid on the bed for ten minutes. 

Then they gave me Gatorade. 

Drank my Gatorade. Called mom, because neither me or any of the doctors thought that I should walk my ass back home. By the time she picked me up I was perfectly fine. And now here I am. 

Fun, huh? That's never happened before. Though I haven't gotten any blood taken for over a year, I don't recall even feeling dizzy after any of the previous times. Then again, they took five vials, I hadn't eaten much, hadn't drank anything since morning pre-school coffee, and just had a med taken away and was still watching inanimate objects move around. 

Yes. Things are still moving. But it's only been a day, so I can't complain yet... though this should be comforting, Heitner said that I haven't been hallucinating. But he doesn't know what they are at all. YAY. When the two professionals who I'm placing my trust in have no idea what's wrong... life just fucking sucks. Ha-rumph. I'm pouting. 

-Cait"

Yeah. Load of fun, nearly passing out. Oddly enough I'm not angry at them. If I'm told I have to get another blood test, I'll go willingly. The thought doesn't bother me, as long as they don't take as much as they did today. 

This, coming from the girl who'll hold long grudges for the tiniest things, confuses the fuck out of me. Someone mutters something vaguely rude, I'll be pissed. Someone takes away so much of my blood that the world goes fuzzy and I throw up two minutes after and I'm fine with it. 

Let me quote TJ as I dramatically say "What the F?!" 

And to make it all even stranger, the computer screen is still moving. I'm still "hallucinating"... and I don't care. Somehow I think I'll miss my "hallucinations." Again, very confused. At times they make me shudder and want to run out of the room. Other times they make me giggle. I won't admit this to anyone I see on a regular basis, except for maybe TJ, but I wouldn't mind if they didn't go away and got more severe. I have a strange imagination, but there's a big difference between imagining a statue breathe and actually watching it "breathe." I wouldn't mind if they stayed...

What the F?

-Cait

Entering... monologue mode...

Time is doing that thing again. You know, that speeding up thing. It does this sometimes... most other times it drags by until I scream for it to go faster. Though naturally, it never does. 

In about eight weeks my junior year of high school will be finished. Then all I have to do is wait for my senior year, and finally I'll be free of the school system and the rules of my parents' house. Cause for celebration, yes? No. Not at all. 

The thought of summer makes me uneasy. Physically uneasy. The end of a school year signals the end of much more than just that. It signals the end of friendships. Routines. Comfort. I come to you as one of the tired. One of the cynical. One of the already jaded. Yes, summer is a break from school, teachers, homework, tests, finals... but for me it's an unwanted break from anything social. While I do prefer to be alone, some human contact is necessary for my survival. Even if it's an hour of English 11 Standard, which I utterly despise. Summer signals months of no one. Months of nothing. Months of such severe solitude that by the end I'm relieved to be back in school. 

Of course, once school starts up I wonder what possessed me to miss it so. 

I wonder if I'll be part of a new group next year. It's quite possible. Actually, more probable than just possible. Seventeen years of no consistent friends will make you think like this. Then I wonder if I'll be with the same guy next year. I hope so, but I doubt it. Like everyone else, he'll cycle out of my life. I hate the thought but believe in it whole heartedly. It's strange how everything in my life changes rapidly and stays exactly the same at the same time.

What stays the same is the solitude. The nostalgia for what has just slipped away. The depression, the seasonal cycles, the visits to my psychiatrist and my therapist. These are the constants. What's underneath. My supports and what little keeps me stable. The things under the surface. The surface itself changes like rushing water. Friends, hobbies, medications, obsessions and loves. So in it's own way life changes rapidly but somehow stays the same, and it's just crazy enough to drive you to the edge. I come to you as one of the tired. Of of the cynical. And the hopelessly jaded. 

Jaded. Worn down. Spiritless. One of those people who looks at their reflections and feels a sudden rush of hatred. 

Everyday something new is worn down or away. I'm hallucinating again... if that's even what it is. Looking at my surroundings, the scenery, and everything is receding and stretching away from me. Inanimate objects that are meant to stay the fuck still but are ignoring the laws of reality just to mess with me. Once upon a time it scared me. Then it pissed me off. Now it means nothing. Just a reminder that there isn't enough food in my system to function as a regular person, and not caring about it... there isn't enough life to function as a normal person. I try to pass as a statue. Something hollow. A mannequin, perhaps. Lifeless, while underneath the hard exterior is something so broken and so messy that you wouldn't even think of trying to fix it. You can't bring me back.

There is no cure. 

There is no sense. 

There is no stability. 

There is no normalcy. 

There is no sanity. 

Tired. Cynical. Jaded. I'm sure none of this has made any sense, and has no real good reason for being, but here it is. One day I'll look back in the archives of this journal, read this and try to decipher the meaning. Because by then I'll have forgotten that there is no clear meaning, at least not clear enough to be satisfying. I'll read this and wonder what the hell I was thinking. I'll ask myself numerous questions, questions which have no answer. And I'll think... "nothing new."

-Cait

Something Thick and Smooth

Standing by myself, looking down the length of the tracks before me, I felt that familiar sense and appeal of being alone here. The sun’s warmth was beginning to dwindle, and as it did the afternoon’s sharp shadows began to expand out of every crack and crevice. The softest of breezes moved strands of hair around my face, and the only noise was the dull roar of the traffic on the street below me.

Those sharp shadows began creeping slowly, letting me know the sun was sick of this portion of the face of the planet and was going elsewhere. I didn’t blame it.

In the distance the hills that feebly surround parts of the Bay Area rose up uncertainly, small and nearly ineffectual. The tracks ran between two fences, stretching away from me towards those silly little hills. Trees lined the left side, and a short wall ran down the right. About a ten minute walk away was the tilted bridge that supported the Bay Area’s BART trains. Past that I couldn’t quite see, but I’ve been here so many times that I knew way sat and lay ahead.

My reasons for being here today were very different from my normal ones. Usually I was here just for the silence of a walk where, most times, nobody else even looked. When I wanted to get away from people I came here and let myself drown in my thoughts that wandered erratically. Some times I even yell and vent out loud. But today I was prepared to take pictures of my secret refuge. Tangible reminders of one of the very few things that have won my full affection and love; the tracks.

My mother’s ancient camera, known as the Dinosaur, suddenly felt heavy in my hand. It had been sitting around collecting dust for the longest time and was getting impatient, willing me to fulfill my promise of actually putting it into use. So to get everything started, I opened the lens and lifted the camera to my face and snapped the first picture.

The shadows were starting to get darker and ticker, and this time of the year night time tended to fall very quickly. So quickly you’d stop in surprise or curse the sun for leaving so fast and soon. So I stepped up the three inch slope of rocks that supported the tracks and began strolling along, camera open and in hand. The sound of cars faded as I moved, and pretty soon the newest dominating sound was the BART trains racing loudly on their bridge that was growing larger in my sight with every step. That little breeze that had been playing with my hair picked up and moved locks instead of individual strands. Goose bumps began to rise on my arms but I ignored them.

As I predicted, the sun dropped below the horizon and darkness began to seep out of the shadows. By then I was far away, passively watching the last remnants of the sun’s light diminish and disappear altogether. The Goosebumps were still standing and were now accompanied by faint shivers from the chilly night air, and I suddenly wished I’d had the forethought to grab a jacket. It was about time to head back. The thick and heavy night prevented the Dinosaur from taking anymore photos, and soon I’d be stumbling my way along the tracks trying to find my way home. There were no street lights or lamps meant for the tracks at night, since no one was supposed to be there anyway. The only way to describe the darkness was to think of something thick and smooth and quiet. Placid, like the surface of still water. It was so heavy I could have touched it, drowned in it, and gotten completely lost. Glancing up, the sky’s stars began to twinkle and look down at me. The moon was just the faintest crescent, offering no eerie moonlight to walk under. For a moment I closed my eyes and walked at a very slow pace that might have looked sensual or sexy by anyone who might have been watching. There was someone who I wanted to share this peaceful blackness with. Shame he wasn’t here… he understands and accepts the appeal of the tracks at night.

My eyes opened again, not making much of a difference, and I made my way home soundlessly, enjoying my refuge and asylum for as long as I could.

 

Yup... Jasani wanted it as a student sample. I said yes... but I got a 64% on it. 20 points off because it was two days late, and 10 points off for refusing to read it. I was pissed... the part that gets me is the class wasn't told that we had to read it until a minute before we turned it in. What. The. Hell. So I have a C in that class. And a C in Psychology. And a B in History. Another C in Algebra. An F in Drama. And a C in Tech. All I can say is my report card will be better than I expected. TJ however... his grades aren't too pretty and he isn't too happy. 

We were supposed to hang out today. But this morning he told me work called and he'll be busy until 7. I don't think I believe him. Don't ask why. I just don't.

-Cait

Mmm, once again I'm writing up a storm. Here's the latest that I'm still working on.

"In the space of a couple days it had gone from beautiful and white to beautiful and dead. The sight had stopped me in my tracks. The branches were black and bare. All underneath on the concrete, on the steps, on the dirt were wet and crushed flower petals, all packed tightly together in any corner and crack available. All of the flat empty surfaces were perfectly exposed, with the white petals bordering them like picture frames. The wind and rain from the past few days had ripped off every last flower from the tree and it stood dark and naked before me. Just three days ago the tree had been full of those white, five-petaled flowers, but now... it looked dead, but beautiful in some dark, twisted way. 

Feeling light-headed and dizzy in the first place, I just stared dumbly at the tree. I was feeling dizzy because I hadn't eaten all day. My body was swaying a bit, but I managed to stay on my shaking feet and legs despite being dead tired. 

I took in the scene as a whole for a minute, then let my eyes began picking at all the details. Something caught my eye. On the very end of the closest branch that seemed to be reaching out to me, at a height that allowed me to look right at it, was the very last flower on the entire tree. All five petals, showing with that soft white mixed in with the vaguest hint of pink stared straight at me, and only me. It seemed as if the tree was offering me the last living part of it that would be seen for quite a while, and I felt unable to decline. I moved forward a step or two when the branches began moving and shifting impossibly around my flower. 

I blinked. 

In that fraction of a second that my eyes were closed the branches moved instantly back to their original places, and when I opened my eyes again they stayed still for only a second before they began twisting and growing and moving to and away from me all at once. 

I blinked again, the the process started over. In my surprise I lost a bit of my already poorly-held self control and let out a sharp sound that was a mix of a laugh and a sob. Grinning and giggling, I shook my head then let it hang forward for a minute. The branches weren't moving. It was just me. This always happened at the end of a warm day that hadn't included a single full meal. It was something close to a hallucination, though I was fully aware that it wasn't real. My mind and eyes going back to their favorite game of playing tricks on me. 

My giggling died down and I let out a deep and dramatic sigh. My eyes told my brain that the tree was morphing and dancing, and my brain just replied with a monotonous "yeah, right, uh-huh, suuuure." Suddenly I was aware that the branch was slowly reaching out to me, holding the flower as a kind of offering, as if it wanted me to take it. The wind suddenly picked up and threatened to pull the flower loose and let it get carried away by the breeze if I didn't take action that very second. Eye level and right before me, it seemed like this was meant for only one person on the planet, and it happened to be me. So playing against the wind, I reached up a shaking hand and picked the flower from the tree, making it officially dead. 

In my hand it was soft and delicate and very much ready to fall apart. The breeze tried to blow it out of my hand, so I formed a loose fist that protected it from the mischievous wind. Suddenly I was unsure of what to do. It crossed my mind that perhaps the wind was picking on me for a reason, and I decided to let the flower go, set free along with a wish and desire that'd been existing in the depths of my mind for a while. I walked away from the tree and the Steps, not looking back at the deceitful shifting branches. Just next to me was a bridge solely meant for the passage of trains over the artificial creek, but was used by people who traveled on foot quite often. I moved onto the tracks and followed them onto the bridge where the wind became a tad bit stronger. I went halfway across and positioned myself right on the edge with the wind blowing in the direction I faced. My hair moved around my face, messing with my vision. But I ignored it as I held the hand holding the flower off the edge of the bridge and made a verbal wish.

"I wish he and I could fall in love, and stay there forever."

I opened my hand fully, and the flower was instantly swept away, flying through the air and eventually out of sight. After I was certain I wouldn't be able to see it any longer, I continued across the bridge while fighting a new wave of dizziness the nausea. The tracks before me seemed to be stretching away. But I knew my eyes were either lying or were misinterpreting what they thought they saw. I was just hungry and dehydrated and possibly hallucinating. 

What else was new?"

Me sleepy. G'night.

-Cait 

I need to take a picture for English. Something we love or love doing. I know what I want it to be. Me and TJ walking on the tracks. Holding hands. The person who takes it will be behind us, seeing us walk towards the hills. Back and white picture. Then when we get back to school we have to write about the thing in the picture. Sounds pretty easy. I've talked about the tracks before. And TJ. Or I could just use one of the pictures I already have... but I want one of both of us. Two of the things in my life that I couldn't live without.

-Cait

It still mystifies me as to why he puts up with my emo bullshit. But I'm glad that he does. And like I said, I don't want him to go. Ever. In fact, I had a nightmare a few weeks ago... a weird one. In the dream I was completely in love with TJ, and we'd promised each other that we'd never leave each other. Then I met another guy and started liking him. In the dream I was confused and mad because I loved TJ, but I wanted this other guy... In real life, I'm more afraid of him finding someone else. He knows that that's what I'm afraid of. Him finding someone else or getting bored with me. 

Sadly, he feels the same way. I don't think I could ever get bored with him. Never. I think I really do love him... I'm always thinking of him... shit, I broke up with Mike to be with him. I don't want anybody else, and the only thing about TJ that I would change would be his depression. I wish I could take it away from him. Erase it. Get rid of it. Not the pessimism, just the depression. 

::sigh::

-Cait

Story I posted in here, the 5-part one about a ghost girl on train tracks? Well, I got bored this morning and decided to retell those five parts from the point of the ghost... since I'm not sure how to continue the first one. So... here we go.

She's different. She truely enjoys the place, truely in love with it. But that's only part of why she's here. She's not just here for the beautiful and quiet isolation. She's searching for something.

I've been watching her. She comes almost everyday, walking where I walk. Sitting where I sit. Veiwing the same veiws. Talking outloud. Reading outloud, too. She sometimes comes with a notebook and pencil. Sometimes with yellow paper with text (I'm assuming) printed on it and reads. Performs for her invisible audience. A couple times shes brought a camera. But most days, most times, she's empty-handed.

She rarely smiles. Shame. Because when she does she's actually very pretty. And it's the smallest things that make her lips curve upwards. She sits under the cherry tree by the tracks and bridge and admires the flower petals detaching and drifting down to the ground. The orange and pink sunsets that tend to reflect off the water of the creek. And standing close to trains as they race by.

While she see's the beauty of the tracks, it's still not why she's here. She's still searching. For what, I don't know... something spiritual? An epiphany? Or something tangible? A person? A little mystery... she isn't here for shallow reasons. Her search is for something beneath the skin, and within the dark depths of the human mind. 

She's unstable and needs something to hold onto. And while I'd love to talk to her, find out all her secrets and offer a helping hand... she probably can't see me. Pity. Because she's one out of a thousand, ten thousand, but she just doesn't know it. 


Wow. Three people at once. You don't normally see that many people all at once. 

Well, when a group of friends, it isn't odd. It's definately not common, but not odd. Two people together isn't strange, either. But three complete strangers in the same spot at the same time? That's something you don't see everyday. 

It confuses her too. Nine times out of ten you'll be alone when you walk the tracks. Every now and then you'll pass a stranger. Most just nod in acknowledgement. Some say hello, good evening, how are you as you walk by. They aren't your friends. You don't stop walking. But in the back of your mind you share a bond. Whether you're there for the same reasons or not theres a slight connection. You can either ignore it, or it just goes unnoticed. But it's there.

I'll bet you she's thinking the same thoughts. While when you walk by a person you don't know you almost always forget them if nothing about them catches your eye. Even with people who ask how you are, say good afternoon or evening, you will probably forget about them pretty soon. But at this little juncture, it's rare enough that you should remember. 

Right now it's a middle eged man, an older woman, and the girl I've been watching for the past year. The man is making his way off the bridge... and the woman is stepping onto it. The girl is standing back, waiting for them to go. She has her head tilted a bit and an eyebrow raised. I was right. She see's the rarity of this moment. 

Neither the man or woman appear phased by this occurance. How sad. I offer no sympathy for them.

In fact, I hope their ignorance is rewarded by full physical contact with a speeding Amtrak.

The girl waited for the two others to depart. As soon as they were out of earshot her mouth opened and words came pouring out. 

"What. The hell. Was that? Did that just go completely over their heads? Jesus tap-dancing Christ, are they blind or are they just track virgins?"

Hm. She always did have a way with words. 

She procceeded to rant for about twenty minutes, saying just about everything I'd just been thinking. At first she was annoyed with the two of them. How blind they seemed to be. But slowly her words trailed down to self doubt... perheps she was the blind one. Trying too hard. Looking for meaning in all the wrong places. And as always, she walked and moved around as she spoke. 

I couldn't help but notice that her movements were almost theatrical. As if she were on a stage. And maybe in her mind she was. She certainly seemed to face the same general direction, throwing her voice that way so anyone close enough could hear her lengthy and vulgar speech. 


That's all for now.

-Cait

She squeezed her eyes shut. Hands covering her ears, blocking out as much sound as she could. Trying her hardest not to move… not to wimp out… she bit her lip and tasted blood. Then one eye opened, and the train was just feet away…