Time to Tear [Day #09]

Last night, something very cold was on us. I told Lionel that there was something on top of us. Lionel didn't answer at first, I assume he was trying to reason, then he said, "Yeah, I feel it too". It eventually got off and I looked at it. It looked like the three dinosaurs that was on my side of the bed a couple nights ago, same size too, but this one was just skeleton. It wasn't solid bone, it wasn't hallow either, it glowed a true blue color, aqua. I moved my leg over to touch his. A lot of things manifested in the room, it was so crowded, so uncomfortable that I even asked Lionel to turn on the lights. He said there was no need for that and reminded me that what is creepy to me in appearance is normal for them. I sucked it up. I agreed, I took them for what they are and respected them. They left me alone. I guess I'm no fun anymore.

Lionel's leg heated up, then my leg went into flames. It was as hot and burned as much as before, I'm pretty sure I would have blistered if I tried to take it on.

It's sometime passed 12PM. Anger, hate, frustration, sadness, heath problems and depression leaks back over to me. I  have not left yet. I'm still in Lionel's room on the floor, next to his bed. I'm usually sitting on his bed, but it doesn't feel right at this moment in time. The word, "depressed", doesn't fit anyone in Lionel's eyes except him. He seems to think I have no right to be depressed because he thinks everything falls perfectly into my lap. This is frustrating as hell, I can't just sit down and spill my organs out to him. I can't just tell him my life's story. His strict rules of who has the right to be depressed and how often he can be very unreasonable judgmental throws me off the perfect balance he naturally gives me. I know he doesn't mean to be rude, but I need to be acknowledged for what I've gone through. I haven't told him about the bad parts in my life, because I saw no point in bringing any of it up, I didn't want to dwell in what I've taken so long to get over again, there is no point, it's done, it's over. To throw me in the section of a persons who has had nothing rotten or rotting in their life is one of the most insulting things you can do to me.

My liver feels like there's lead in it, my lungs are not taking in the necessary oxygen, my skin is cold, my jaws clench and I am slouching over again. I feel like I'm going to vomit.

I can't understand why someone would think another person does not have to right or does not deserve to be acknowledged that they do undergo various levels of depression. I didn't come here to mope around and rant about my life and woe is me. I've come here to grow spiritually and mentally, which I have. I guess maybe he found it strange that I told him I liked depressing music and I like being depressed. When you spend enough time in that realm, having rotten events shoved down your throat every day, it turns you into an addict, or worse a masochist.

I wish that Lionel would not judge me that my life is great and dandy because that is not the life I've lived. Life took a shit on me in 1998 when my dad threw the vase.

Just because I've been happy to be here and I'm currently not frustrated with the human race and everything within the Earth, I am automatically judge that I have a fine and dandy life. Just because I'm not expressing my hatred toward humanity. Just because I choose to smile and be grateful so I don't look like every other miserable person in America.

He thinks I'm gloomy because I had his dad's cooking which was probably filled with whatever emotion he dumped in there when he made it. That is not the reason. I'm gloomy because my aura, soul, spirit, something that has attached to him is slowly yet cleanly ripping off. I can feel this detachment, it is painful emotionally and physically.

The week that I've been here, my energy has been in great harmony. I live in the present, I am grateful for everything, even the people that are shooting mental poison darts at me. Yesterday my thoughts started to scatter and I had trouble focusing and living in the present, instead it flung to the past reminding me of every rotten thing that has happened and then to the future where every horrible thing could happen even though there is no reasonable explanation for why that could happen.

Lionel is laying on the bed, I am still sitting on the floor. I am feeling more and more empty, like as if my parents dropped me off in the middle of the desert and are now driving away, waving goodbye to me. And I am alone.

My back aches, I am once again, becoming numb of feeling.

I'm on the train now, Lionel had walked me to Gate C. He couldn't go farther than the gate, so we had to part there instead of where I had hoped we could have gone which is to the train itself. I wish we could have taken at least one picture together.

Lionel hugged me at the gate, I had less than five minutes to get from here to the train. I thought the goodbye wasn't going to be as meaningful as I had hoped. The hug was real, timewise I have no idea how long we took, it was probably only a couple seconds but it felt like a lifetime. I hope he had felt what I did because that it was a hug that I could only dream about, until now. I've never had anyone hug me like that before, not my mother, my father, my friends from Jobcorp, no one. It wasn't just the tightness of the arms, he had emotions flow through them and they wrapped around me.

Lionel wore the same coat he wore when he came to pick me up at the station last Tuesday. I laughed sadly to myself when I saw this, because I couldn't cry.

Lionel was eating a bagel in the room the hour before we had to leave. He typically doesn't eat at the time, he barely eats. I looked at him sadly, laughing to myself not because anything was funny, but because I was sad and my emotions are fucked up so I can't cry, he told me that he eats when he's sad.

I can hardly believe that this is happening. I've never felt so horrible leaving anywhere or anyone before. I'm going to call him.

I am in an altered state of mind right now. It's probably only been twenty minutes. I can barely feel myself. I feel a loss so great it is like part of me just died, like a kid whose beloved brother or dog died... For the first time in my life, I am grieving.

I miss his presence. I miss his being. I miss his company. I miss his scent. I miss his voice. I miss his energy. I am being torn apart. Torn apart from him.

The numbness is setting in...

Lionel had expressed to me that if he had the money he would take the train with me to California and then back by himself. I realized this means a lot since he had told me from the beginning that he would lose his head if he had to wait the a four hour train delay that I had to go through.

Last night Lionel jumped in his sleep with a muffled scream. The moment he awoke, I awoke at the exact same time and gasped the exact same time he did, jumping awake from sleep at the exact same time. Every moment with him I cherish, the good, the scary and the ugly.

I got off at the first smoke stop to stretch. That guy from last Sunday that I thought that had been waiting since five in the morning was there. I didn't see notice him until he spoke to me saying, "I see that you are going back the same time I am." I was strangely glad to see him, a familiar face. We were both taking the same route but different journeys, I just thought it was really nifty.


I meditated on the train sometime passed 6PM. I got up to my third eye but didn't finish, the distraction I had at the moment in time was too much to focus. My heart chakra feels like it's going to explode from the intensity of the power, size and weight. I could feel it so heavily, it took up half of my chest, hand-size outstretched.

7:29PM I've come down with the familiar subtle depression that has always lingered with me.

A pounding headache. I think my head might just explode.

A man with a short cut hair, squared rimmed glasses, dressed in a red gym shirt and a matching dark blue gym pants asked me if the lady who was taking dinner reservations came by. I told him yes and he should just go to the dining car and ask. His being calmed me, so I scribbled out a note and passed it to him, asking if he would mind if I moved over next to him so we both don't end up with someone weird sitting next to us. He was an interesting creature who smooths any awkwardness he had created by abruptly speaking with a thick British accent. This comes in when he's thinking and speaking too fast and when he's nervous.

Sometime passed 9PM, Mark came back from the dinning room and asked me if I wanted to join him in the lounge, if he could buy me a drink and that there were "many cool cats" there. I didn't feel like it because my pimple made me self conscious. I refused. Mark left saying that if I wanted to, he'll be in there. Moments later I got up and walked into the lounge. Two religious cult persons sat to my right, a guy with long hair and tattoos who didn't want to hear anything about time, another guy with long hair dreaded who always seemed to be smiling, three drunk girls at a table, another girl who sat at another table, she didn't drink but she seems more drunk than anyone there. A black guy and Mark sat at one table across from each other. I was really nervous and just walked passed them all because I didn't see Mark until he called to me. Mark offered to buy me a drink. I refused the offer. He asked me again, and again. Then I took the offer. I got a mini Jack Daniel's. The black gy had one too. "You and me Julie, we'll do this together, you and me!" He said holding his up. I grabbed mine and scooted toward him. "Okay!" We slammed our mini jacks together and took it. Apparently we were playing a drinking game that I didn't know about and I won because I drank faster and I didn't make a face. He wanted to know about me so he asked me if I saw a movie about a vampire and something to do with a general's daughter. I didn't know. He wanted me to ask him a question,, I asked him what his favorite book was. He listed two, The Day After Tomorrow (it's about Hitler's head), and Filth (a true crime novel). The guy with the dreads wanted to play the drawing game, I think he invented it on the spot. He folded up a paper to four sections (there were only four of us playing the game). He spun my empty Jack bottle and it pointed at himself. He went off to the other table and spent some time drawing on the first section. We all added to this taking our own section and having to draw without seeing what the other person drew. We continued the drawing by using the lines that the person from the top section left. It came out looking like a LSD drawing. The black guy who calls himself a cook made me try out his tuna salad mixture he made from the Bumble Bee can, he added a bunch of sauces to it and fed it to me, he really wanted to know what I thought of it. I told him too much mustard, more pepper! After this, Mark and I went to go brush our teeth at the same time in the restroom.

I didn't look back once. I should have looked back when I left Gate C. It's 9:30PM, I woke Mark up to use his phone, I called Lionel three times, he didn't pick up.