I am getting a very clear picture of what I want love to look like. For me.
And a lot of the people I miss and want in my life, they're writing me--
It's the best part of being here.
Cereal with real fruit.
Pet peeves are cute, and also revealing.
(I never take the cotton swabs out of bottles because I hate the violent sound pills make shaking their way up from the bottom. It's a little desperate or something.)
Today getting back into a workout routine, post office, more investigating schools, and invoicing.... The hardest part of my job.
These are impossibly delicious:
- Mood:Coffee. Coffee.... Coffee.
Texas lit something back up in me. All I want to do is take my love and spread it all around now.
I was numbing out for so long.
Everything around me is speaking to me.
Sparks Fly, Deep Inside of You, Screaming Infidelities.
Small, Cold, and Delicate.
ready to start wearing out-of-this-world shoes.
okay, that's all.
I feel like this journal, in some ways, is older than me. Like it bothered to have a childhood, and a life, and friends. Like it had something established, maybe not something very stable-- but that's never all that appealing anyway.
I can't stop looking back. I am floating, and I'm feeling around desperately trying to find the photographs and things I've misplaced. I mean really-- old photos that help me identify myself, the t-shirts I've had the longest..
I'm so hesitant I haven't started anything real here. I feel like a lot of people who can't move forward with their lives anymore make new ones, sew themselves directly onto their partner or make babies, and continue this cycle of pouring all of their hope into someone else. Like someone else can figure out how to live it all out. I've never been so confused as right now-- I am supposed to work with this new place, this new home, this new person, i have a new body--all i did was lift a few weights and my stomach condition and hormones decided for me i would never be able to tip ___ again--, i can't find my cat and can't seem to convince myself that he's really dead because I never saw him after he passed. All the growing I ever did was with my mother, or my friends, or at least Gulliver around me. I had three drinks the other night-- THREE-- and when we got home I cried about Gulliver for like two hours before I had worn myself out enough to sleep. Man, I just put EVERYTHING on that cat.. it's remarkable he lasted the ten or twelve years he did, with me. I know I have to go back to Texas to lay him to rest. The part of him that's still alive in me.
But I really can't stop looking back. Is it just a phase? I miss my cat, I miss my face, I miss dry Texas air, I miss having tons of friends and that stopped so long ago I really shouldn't miss it. All the things I didn't care about the consequences of. I miss being a slob. It's like, if I could just turn around and look the other way and be more excited about the things to come it would be fine, but I get so bored when I look ahead. Yeah, I'm really not sure if it's a normal phase or if I am depressed or in a rut. My mother has made being 'deeply sad' extremely shameful for me and maybe for my siblings, so I could be very very sad and still able to deny it.
I just don't feel that excited about being here for a long time and about school and /another/ career and accruing money...? It sounds like a bad board game. Having a degree is appealing to me but it's still not that appealing. I'd really just rather be happy and have lots of people around me all of the time and not very many worries consuming me. I've really wanted to go to school for dietetics/nutrition, probably for a couple of years and I haven't done it. The idea is that I'm fascinated enough by it, and would like to be educated in it, and believe that I could probably earn an okay amount of money working doing something related to it.
And then I told and deleted the story of how I became neurotic and what it's like to watch your life split off in two directions before your eyes constantly, like every move is going to turn things either all black or all white.
- Music:Cat Power - The Greatest
I write in this all the time and never post the entries. I could just commit. I really don't think I'm a good writer-- I decided at some point that it was important for me to be honest with myself. Brutally honest. But I'm not sure if it's that because I'm not sure it's ever good enough.
I'm tired of saying sorry when I don't mean it-- I'm trying to mend this by removing 'sorry' from my vocabulary entirely. This is the last time you'll ever hear me say it. Who knew I was so passive-aggressive? "Sorry..." Ugh. Gross. I shouldn't feel bad anyway. I'm exhausted of making requests for small. acts. of. kindness. I don't need anything purchased for me, really, I don't, I have a job, do you know that? I'm not sure when it became a chore to hold me every once in a while. I thought it was a pretty common desire, right? Wrong. You might be surprised to find out that some people actually have no needs or emotions at all. =D Well, love to make you happy, if only you knew you were sad.
You know, I like my rock but I can be a rock, too. Look at me. I have biceps.
Can I also say that things are beautiful most of the time and I only write when I am holed up? I went snorkeling for the first time since, Christ.... Maine or New Hampshire? I got beat to shit on the rocks but once we swam out a little bit it was nice. And then I froze my ass off. And then I ate some fish.. but I felt great because I had done something at all. Something I was a little afraid of. I need more of that, and, maybe a little counseling for the rest of forever, and I think I can be okay. I know what it feels like to be withering away and I am not that. I am just very, very frustrated. I know there's some uncovering to be done.
- Music:Exhale! Another wasted breath! Again it goes unnoticed!
Worst dream of my life. So fucking cruel.
I was laying sleeping in my Mom's house... facing the door in a weird direction I never would have been. In my old room, one I haven't slept in in years. I heard the meowing, and I kept telling myself, 'it's not him, don't go look'. I got up and looked anyway. It was him at the door--Gulliver of my heart. I threw him over my shoulder the way I did the first time he'd been lost for three days and I found him. It was him-- I knew he wasn't dead! I knew it! And the way he felt in my arms, I thought, this can't be real! but it is! I carried him into the room I'd become more familiar with after my teenage years. Then I noticed something else so I walked back out of the room and to the top of the stairs. Two more at the bottom of the stairs. Two more Gullivers! Get out! It's a dream! Try to wake up! Can't! Try to wake up!!! CAN'T!!!!!
Drop him! Run into the room I'd been sleeping in! Slam the door behind me! Jump back into the bed!
Wake. Pouring rain. Thunder. Oh, Hawai'i. My bed. It's so big. Richard, breathing. Grounded.
We went to look at pets yesterday. Pets that need homes. We drove away and I said, "I have so much love! and time! and so much love!.... and a no-pets policy... but such good intentions!" Right now I feel so empty. Gulliver was one of the biggest parts of my heart that I could physically touch. I put so much into him. Everything. I put so much good into him. I'm going to have to get to that place (the place I was when we left the shelter) and I'm going to have to get there often before I can start over with another pet. The time is not now. I miss you.
fucking hormones, why do you make me so crazy? don't tell anyone i said this, but i sort of miss the old days of THE [dreaded] PILL.
i just feel like a real asshole sometimes.