What Do You Mean, I'm Clumsy!?

I remember where I was each time.

The first time, I was in Omotesando, Tokyo.

It was September 2011. The day was overcast, kind of crisp. I was walking down the avenue of the same name, passing some trendy brand store on my right when it happened.

I can't remember if the path was uneven, or the tile was sticking up off the pavement. All I remember is falling.

Reflexes took over, and bade me grab the railing to my left. I managed to cling to it as I landed. Unfortunately, the railing was broken. I didn't break it-- it was already broken. It just wasn't attached all the way along. So as I grabbed it, it gave, and instead of taking the brunt of my kinetic energy, the floor did.

Or rather, my left knee. I was in a weird position, like a kneeling prayer.

It fucking hurt.

It's a one off, right? Everyone falls over randomly on a really trendy street while in Japan, right?

... except it happened again.

This time, I was in Singapore, it was January of this year.

It's ironic, but this time we were really far up Orchard Road. Orchard Road is kind of the equivalent of Omotesando Avenue-- it's big, bustling, and full of trendy brand-name shops along either side. I'm not really into shopping all that much-- or brand names, but it's nice to window shop. I like visiting these places in any case. See how the rich people live and all that.

This time, I remember what happened.

The tile was uneven. As I walked over it, it rolled my left foot, slightly. It was pretty minor, but unfortunately, it had pushed my sneaker halfway off my foot.

Ah, shit.

As I regained my balance, I realized I was having problems standing because my left shoe was halfway off. As I stepped, I began to panic as I realized my left foot had no stable ground and I couldn't step onto it evenly. It was screwing up my equilibrium. Suddenly, I was falling.

And I fell; hard.

This time, it was no holds barred, full body plant, both arms in front of you to protect your face, fall.

I remember, again-- reflexes bade me grab something; anything-- but there was nothing there. I remember fleetingly deciding whether I should grab my brother, while thinking I didn't want to pull him down and hurt him. I remember his "what the fuck," expression-- wondering if he should grab me.


He didn't.


I flung out my arm-- and bam-- I fell like a sack of potatoes.

It was an epic faceplant.

Nobody laughed, actually. In hindsight, it was probably really funny. Maybe it really looked that bad though. Who knows.

I shifted my weight as I lay there on the pavement.

On my fucking knee, again.

Fucking fuck!

A young guy walking past obviously didn't think my brother's attention was really very caring at all. As he caught up to us, he looked at me concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asked me, worry etching his features.

"I'm fine," I said, getting up slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, really. Thanks." I said, being helped up. Mostly, I was just embarrassed.

He walked on. He glared at my brother somewhat as he continued on.

"Was my caring not enough for him?" My brother said.

"Well you are my brother, so there's always the, 'haha!' factor, deep down." I said.

"True, but he didn't know we were related."

"Maybe he thought you were just a really shitty boyfriend."

That kind of gives me hope. Guy was cute, too. Thanks random guy.

Anyways. I had slammed into my knee somehow, even though I had tried to land on my hands. It's always my fucking knees!

It bruised up something chronic-- I remember that when I went to sleep that night, I couldn't lean on it. It went purple and yellow. It was about a week before it healed. But it actually didn't hurt to walk on, so it didn't hinder our trip much at all.

So one day, when my brother said to me, "I was going to fix up your bike if you wanted to ride it again, but I'm worried you'll kill yourself on it..."

I was like; "What? I know how to ride a bike! I was practically glued to my bike growing up. What do you think I'll do? 'Look mom, no hands?'"

"Well you're clumsy."

"No I'm not!"

".... you full on fell over twice on holiday. You keep tumbling down the stairs at home."

Oh, yeah.

Am I clumsy? Shit. I've always felt I was an athletic person trapped in a chubby woman's body. I never thought I was clumsy. Sure I wasn't very graceful, but clumsy? No.

Sure I face planted twice within six months in public while just... walking. But that doesn't make me clumsy, right?

And then I thought about it.

My stairs are my nemesis. They are wooden, shiny, with a rounded edge. I wear socks a lot. I fucking love socks. So wooden stairs + socks = major slippage.

Once, I slipped while on the top step and tumbled down, stunt woman style. Or maybe like 'cat falls down stairs' video style.

When I was about thirteen or fourteen, I fell down the stairs that lead into the garage. These stairs are not rounded and wooden, they're tiled and pointy. It was like a stick being dragged along a railed fence. Thunk thunk thunk THUD.

... if you guessed that I landed on my knee, you'd be right. And it was right, too. My right knee.

Another time, I was flouncing out from the study, where there are only three steps. I missed one, lost my balance, and--

CRACK!

Somehow, my knees are the only thing that appear to break my fall. Oh and my tailbone occasionally.

I was in agony this time; it was my right knee, same as the time with the garage stairs. Both times were actually pretty brutal. They were not nice falls. My right knee is kind of messed up, now. It's the kind of injury that randomly pangs when it's cold. And it clicks all the time. If I'm pushing hard and biking or exercising or dancing, it can relapse or swell, or start hurting for no reason.

Another time, I was at the bottom step when I slipped, and reached out for the railing. But I was holding something and I didn't think to let go. So I cracked my tailbone on the bottom step, then slammed my wrist into the right-hand railing. My wrist came out worse, it actually took the brunt of that fall.

My nephew was there. He was four. "You shouldn't really wear socks on the stairs," he said. "Because it's slippery."

Yeah, thanks.

My tailbone has had it's fair share of injuries too. That deserves an entry all to itself, almost. I have sustained nerve damage all down my back because of something really stupid I did. It takes a really long time to heal nerve damage. Two years later, It's still not 100%

I still don't like calling myself clumsy, though. That implies I drop shit all the time and bump into things. I don't drop things. I'm not known for bumping into things.

And I'm pretty fucking resilient. I've never broken a bone; and I've done crazy shit. I remember biking on gravel when I was eight or nine even though I was told repeatedly not to-- and I went flying off my bike; a piece of gravel imbedded itself in my knee. Well, of course it did.

My knee appears to be a damage magnet.

I still have the scar.

I used to do crazy stuff on my bike all the time. This was before it was compulsory to wear a helmet, too. I was an unruly kid, always jumping off things.

When I do things on purpose, I don't get hurt, though.

.... it appears just 'walking' defeats me.

Maybe I am clumsy?

Nah.

I'm just... really accident prone.

... and, 'walkingly- challenged.'

So I Have A Date; And Not With My Hand

So I feel a lot better today; thanks for asking, Internet.

You don't care? Fuck you, buddy.

So, I had this bottleneck thing happening (figuratively, not literally-- that would be weird, yet funny...) with my emotions.

I kept pushing them back over and over, and suddenly, I couldn't cope. I felt like I was in a cage, throwing myself at the bars repeatedly. At that moment, it kinda felt like my world was closing in, and I had this feeling like it would take me with it.

Ah, that's so romantic. I like that. That can stay in there.

I'm such a ponce.

Anyway, when I get like this, I call it 'hermit-itis' -- I withdraw so far into myself I can't deal with anyone or anything. I tend to feel so much I can't handle it, and as a consequence I actually become unfeeling and uncaring. It's not a nice place to be. Anyone who knows me really really well, (namely Tazzy, Dabbers and Hezzah) have experienced it first hand many times, and you're always so supportive and always make me feel like a friend even when I'm in hermit mode. I always feel like a douche about it. I'm sorry I do that. I am working on being better. Thanks for being there for me all the time.

... I just realized the people closest to me are all overseas and online. That's crazy, but it makes sense. And you're all American. What's up with that?

GUYS. ILU GUYS. *tears*

I don't get this bad usually, but things have been overwhelming, lately. I found out something really bad which triggered everything, and everyone I reached out to was busy with their own stuff. To be fair to you guys, my 'reaching out' is pretty fucking subtle. You would have needed a magnifying glass to notice it.

My 'reaching out' is kinda weirdly feeble. Like a really effeminate throw. "Eeeuggh." *falls short*

Well, shit.

I'm working on leaning on people more. It's tough. I secretly like to be completely alone, and find it insanely difficult to open up, to anyone. Even this entry is difficult to write. I keep editing it over and over, trying to take anything that deals with how I really feel, out.

That's kinda messed up.

But, I'm trying to keep it in, because truly and honestly, having this outlet helped me-- that's what I took from that person. That having one at all, helped. It doesn't matter if nobody reads it. Just it existing and it being 'out there' is helping me, in some strange way.

I feel good.

But I felt shitty.

In fact, I think I've only felt this bad in one other point in my life, and that time was horrible. And, I think only one person in the world knows about that time. Maybe two. It just always feels like it's a pity party when I tell it, and I hate getting pity. And it's hard for people to hear, too.

Even thinking about it is difficult.

Needless to say, I'm not ready to tell the entire world. I don't think I'll ever be. Maybe if you break down my barriers, I'll tell you, but the only people I ever told I had to maim. Not because they knew too much, but just because I really like to injure people.

It's for fun.

You know, in hindsight, maybe he didn't deserve my unbridled vulnerability, since I give it so reluctantly and yet he was bad at handling it. But truthfully, he was the only person I think I was ever all of myself around, both in-person and online.

I want that again.

Anyway, as I said, I feel way better.

... even though I actually deleted the angst filled entry in question, where I poured my heart out. I wasn't ready to have it so out there. But having certain things 'out there' is again, cathartic to me (I like using that word, shut up) and writing it all out is helping me a lot. So. Thanks. Thanks blog? Whatever, I'm functioning on very little sleep. Leave me alone.

So, the exciting part is, I have a date.

I don't feel I'm ready to seriously date, actually-- and I'm not sure this guy is my type mentally or even physically (he's buff, I like 'teh' weedy guys with the malnutrition), but he is pretty hot, at least.

AND he wears glasses! For reading, but still.

Is it bad I want him to wear glasses all the time? That's superficial, isn't it? If I ask him to just randomly read stuff during our date constantly, will that be suspicious?

WHAT'S THAT ON THIS MENU? WHAT DOES THAT SAY OVER THERE?

.... I don't know why I'm going to be shouting during our date, but that would be fucking funny.

I know, I have a problem. I'm sorry! I just get all swoony over guys wearing glasses. It's mah kryptonite. SIGH.

Also I'm not going into this close-minded. He really is pretty hot and he appears to be relatively nice.

Well, anyways. At the least my 'bleedies' are over now; so I can maybe get lucky. They ruined any prospect of gettin jiggy last weekend. I'm not a floozy but hey, I'm not above getting some. He's hot and  the last tail I got was about five years ago, so I'm due, dammit.

Actually I really don't give that up easily at all, and I've had offers. So while the thought of it might be nice, the reality is I'm probably going to be too freaked out even if he goes in for the kiss.

... fack. FACK. Now I feel nervous just thinking about it.

Anyway, it's a start. I don't think he's my future husband because  I suggested watching Avengers with him, but I betrayed my inner Nerdette and his expression betrayed his disinterest in seeing that movie. He either must really like me, or is reaaaaally polite because he agreed really quickly to seeing it, even though I could tell he really didn't want to watch it.


I reneged, though. Like backpedalled so fucking far that he probably thinks I hate comics, or hate movies, or hate the Avengers. So we're going to watch something else, probably.

So he doesn't like comics. Strike one.

"But you're a buff dude! Don't you like action?"

"I like action, I want to watch 'Act of Valor' actually."

Sigh. Where are all mah comic nerds at?

Anyway, I feel good. It's good for me. And I don't think anything is going to come of it, but it's a start. And I need this right now. And he's pretty good husband material. So my friend keeps reminding me.

But I hate the thought of marriage, and my name doesn't suit his surname at all!

.... like all women, I jump the gun somewhat.

But on to more important things; AH THE AVENGERS IS OUT. We get it like a week before the US. How fucking excited am I? Pretty excited.

I actually am super fangirly about watching it this weekend-- is that sad? My brother Jay wants to go and my best male friend. It's good. because if I went with date guy, then I'd have to wait till NEXT weekend, which is way too far away. Next weekend is practically when the US gets it, and if I watch it at the same time as the US then I have nothing to lord over you guys. Psh.

.... this kinda degenerated into incoherent rambles. Hmm.

That happens to me a lot.

So I don't know how to end this entry. I feel like I should say 'peace out' or something. That's so 90s. Maybe my sign off should reflect my personality more.

My brother says; "to reflect your personality more your tag off should be like: 'See You Later, Bitches!' ... because you know, you swear a lot."

...

Shut up, I'm very ladylike. I braid my leg hair and everything.

..... well I'll let you know how it goes. And by 'let you know' I mean... probably never write in here again, because I tend to neglect this when I'm happy, and I'm getting pretty happy, Internet.

.... See you later, bitches.

I'm In A Bad Place -- And It Hurts

Recently, I made this new friend.

I really liked this friend... because of a myriad of reasons.

I still consider them my friend even though I haven't heard from them in a bit. This person helped me considerably.

I miss them, to be honest. I miss hearing from them and writing to them. I hope they still consider me their friend but... I'm not sure they do any more.

To me, it was kind of like a long lost sibling. The kind of friend that when you get to know them, it seems like you've known them forever already.

In 13 years of being online, I've only met five people I liked enough to feel that way about; and let in and continue talking to. I actually still keep in touch with all of them, even today (except one, well... two now). And believe me when I say I have met hundreds of people online.

This friend  gave me an outlet for my emotions that was helping me to cope with an event that happened in my life recently. I talk about the event in question a little in the previous entry.

What I'm getting at is that this person made me realize confiding in someone is extremely cathartic for me. Talking to them helped me to get through my shit, but also listening to them did too. And well... it appears they're no longer around to confide in.

This kind of makes me feel a little lost. And a lot sad, to be honest. And really confused. ("Did I mess things up? Am I weird? Do they not like me any more?") Kinda all the things I asked myself in the previous entry, which ironically I wrote way way before any of this.

Anyways.

Since then, I've been worse. Not because this person isn't there necessarily but because some bad things happened to me that made me relapse, and this time, I felt I had no-one to turn to or tell any longer.

I never realized until then how much I had already begun to rely on confiding in this person.

But suddenly, I was alone.

I felt alone. 

I have people there for me in real life, but I'm completely unable to be vulnerable around others. I was only ever able to be 100% vulnerable around one other person in this world, and believe me when I say confiding in him is a no-go right now since he's the reason I'm sad in the first place.

I find it hard to reach out online too. I have another couple of friends I confide in but I always feel like I'm burdening them because they care about me enough that me being sad hurts them. So maybe telling this new friend was an option, and part of me wanted to reach out-- but I couldn't write again because I'd already written twice and I felt like I was really bothering this person. In hindsight, I probably was.

I didn't know what to do. So I do what I always do. I kept it in. Rather, I reigned it in. And I got worse.

Two nights ago while driving along, I had the sudden urge to accelerate full tilt into a brick wall.

That kind of told me, 'okay, something isn't right here.'

So, I thought, 'Do I need someone?' I like to pretend I don't need anyone. And I usually don't. But the last time I felt this bad, it didn't end well for me. So when I didn't know who to turn to a couple of days ago-- I went through and made this blog. I wrote. To me. I confided. In me. I hadn't slept in 48 hours when I made the entry, and I deleted it soon after. It was desperate, sad, rambly, and heartbreaking, at least for me.

"It's me being vulnerable," I wrote, "without actually reaching out to anyone."

It was a pretty weak attempt at reaching out, to be honest.

But it was cathartic.

And it helped.

So I thought, "I need this. I need an outlet for my emotions."

And here we are.

I blog, because nobody likes me. Haha.

So this blog is actually new. It has old entries before this because I pulled all my old backup entries from my old personal blog-- which was from when I was on VOX. VOX went under and though I transferred some of the posts to my Tumblr account, that's not really the place for real blogging. So I never republished the entries anywhere else because I never wrote in it anyway. Until now. Once I decided I needed this outlet and I'd actually start using this again, I decided to transfer my backups. So all the entries prior to this are old, and only this one onwards are new.

I can't promise I'll be all that forthcoming on here. After all, I find being vulnerable especially hard.  There's a reason that the entry that sparked the creation of this blog is no more.

As for my friend, well, you'll always be my friend to me... even if I'm not yours. And it's never to late to write.