"i could plan a book or write" or i could make bread and then lie around apparently
Trying not to remember why I feel lousy turns into a circle of recursive self-loathing, including currently hating myself for hating myself THE WRONG WAY; for not wanting to think about it/feel about it and for having no business feeling anything about it anyway.
[feeling like an even bigger whiny baby than usual in that "my important sad feels about k" and "my important complicated sad man feels about d" are being casually buried under the compulsive avalanche of "near-psychotic obsessiveness about food, eating, exercise, and whether i can somehow just STRESS the hospital into giving me a surgery date with the sheer will of my unpleasantness", although they're being buried precisely because "wound up and obsessive and worrying" are easy, if not comfortable mindstates, and "unresolveable grief and the possibility of having to seek human company for comfort" -- a sentence which leads me to almost boke at that point -- is bewildering and unfamiliar and all too human; this kind of feeling is for Other People.]
[feeling like an even bigger whiny baby than usual in that "my important sad feels about k" and "my important complicated sad man feels about d" are being casually buried under the compulsive avalanche of "near-psychotic obsessiveness about food, eating, exercise, and whether i can somehow just STRESS the hospital into giving me a surgery date with the sheer will of my unpleasantness", although they're being buried precisely because "wound up and obsessive and worrying" are easy, if not comfortable mindstates, and "unresolveable grief and the possibility of having to seek human company for comfort" -- a sentence which leads me to almost boke at that point -- is bewildering and unfamiliar and all too human; this kind of feeling is for Other People.]