i fell asleep from 3 to 6 this afternoon. not sure why; i’ve been taking too many naps, always feeling tired after lunch. but today i woke up feeling erratic and impassioned. i went down for dinner and wrote for four hours. breaks in between. when i was done i breathed again. i am full. i am scared. i made myself write in ways i’m not used to, about things on which my opinion feels invalid, small, naive, insubstantial. i had to keep reminding myself it was fiction, and that in any case, my sentiments are real, my sentiments are candid. not perfect, not complete, but i am human. very often i forget i am allowed mistakes and faults; more often still i forget i am allowed to show them and let people react. love me still. treat me harshly. jolt me awake. i am a work in progress. it’s said often. i understand it now. growth mandates falling and learning and sculpting and redefining and refining. i am a work in progress.
sometimes i am with myself for too long it starts to feel as though introspection has metamorphosed into narcissism. i am a bit too loud in my head and my posting this at all is a bit ironic but – i need less of me. i need to forget about me. i really wish true altruism existed. everything i do feels too selfish. i need to devote myself to change before i get lost in my own head.
the tangible might be all that’s essential to survival, but the intangible is the heart of our conscious existence. and what are we, but conscious beings?
Over six cuts of salmon sashimi priced far above their worth — not the least bit buttery, and far too thin, but I try to save it with sauce and wasabi — my mom, privately, takes a pause from our silence with a halted hand and, not unprecedentedly, confesses: redacted, redacted, redacted, redacted, redacted. (I put all in brackets, like I do this statement in parentheses.)
It’s not a big deal, I say, and mean it, because it isn’t, now. It was then. But so what? We’ve moved on. We’re in a good place. Everything that happened, happened, and was necessary. Okay, maybe not necessary, but everything happened in unchangeable actuality, and so what’s to do, other than to face who we all are and all that we all have today, at present?
I apply this to every other aspect I can manage to the best of my abilities. What is there to be done — but to do?
feels as though i am always so choked up with emotion (whenever i’m alone) i might one day implode! tonight (night, i say, at 4:27am, ha!), that emotion is love — and i do, a lot. spent two hours on a subreddit, then had a talk with megs, which i am sometimes quite bad at because she is very Aware so a lot of the times it feels as though my advice is Null and Already Thought Of (though by no means a fault of either of us!! it just is what is!!), but i was quite giddy on an arbitrary wave of happiness and positivity and felt even better afterwards. checked wordpress and saw soph’s Memory post. remembered the warmth of school (soph always brings me joy somehow!) and now i am going to bed happier than ever. looking forward to my dreams tonight.
(i know i don’t usually do this. but today’s events — which honestly didn’t comprise much — and, i suppose, my very unpredictable temperament have both been very kind to me. which is rare. i am in good spirits.)
a sudden loss of vitality. i hurt every night and put off sleeping to continue indulging (getting distracted by News I Do Not Care About and Opinions That Are Mindless — faux, faux, faux) and therein perpetuate my own cycle of self-destruction. i am tiredly hefty and further withdrawn. i talk to old friends and fill the silence with rambles, tumbling over my own words and thoughts, saying all that i don’t even need to say, and i look back and know i am completely losing it. more than sad, i am exhausted.
this heartache of a truth proving hard to swallow – i am short of $29 in my dreams and i am choked up, under stress – always short of something – too much