don't lose any sleep tonight.
i am upset, and trying so hard not to be.
i wrote this piece that the computer decided to eat and make disappear and completely impossible to ever retrieve.
so that's fine, okay? it's pointless to be in agony as it is gone now, and there are still more words inside of me, maybe too many as it is. making space is always important. at least there was that release of things, of thoughts. i don't necessarily have to read them ever again, or have anyone read them in the first place.
next time i write, even on the same subject, even if i attempt to reconstruct everything as perfectly as possible, it will be different. gloriously different. just as necessary. this letting go of things is always an important lesson.
but still, i'm upset. i'm upset that i'm upset. i'm frustrated that i'm frustrated.
i always wander into these silly conundrums. i still have so much to learn.
i've been swirling lately having inner conversations with all of the little bits inside of myself. i have to listen very carefully to understand anything that's said. i sometimes worry that i speak too many languages - that i've been taught that dissection is the only way to discover some sense of harmony. these tangents take place while i sit perhaps in an attempt at meditation that turns into the opposite of mind emptiness and instead has each of my thoughts fold over unto itself and i'm gone into a rabbit hole of thinking. i wonder if the polarization of having absolutely no thoughts and having a million thoughts whirring at once can reach around until the two points touch each other and are, essentially, one and the same.
and then i'm gone again.
goodbye, writing piece. you were lovely and cathartic to expel. i try hard not to miss you but i do.
and yes, you too.
especially you.
i wrote this piece that the computer decided to eat and make disappear and completely impossible to ever retrieve.
so that's fine, okay? it's pointless to be in agony as it is gone now, and there are still more words inside of me, maybe too many as it is. making space is always important. at least there was that release of things, of thoughts. i don't necessarily have to read them ever again, or have anyone read them in the first place.
next time i write, even on the same subject, even if i attempt to reconstruct everything as perfectly as possible, it will be different. gloriously different. just as necessary. this letting go of things is always an important lesson.
but still, i'm upset. i'm upset that i'm upset. i'm frustrated that i'm frustrated.
i always wander into these silly conundrums. i still have so much to learn.
i've been swirling lately having inner conversations with all of the little bits inside of myself. i have to listen very carefully to understand anything that's said. i sometimes worry that i speak too many languages - that i've been taught that dissection is the only way to discover some sense of harmony. these tangents take place while i sit perhaps in an attempt at meditation that turns into the opposite of mind emptiness and instead has each of my thoughts fold over unto itself and i'm gone into a rabbit hole of thinking. i wonder if the polarization of having absolutely no thoughts and having a million thoughts whirring at once can reach around until the two points touch each other and are, essentially, one and the same.
and then i'm gone again.
goodbye, writing piece. you were lovely and cathartic to expel. i try hard not to miss you but i do.
and yes, you too.
especially you.