figment of the imagination
After seeing the movie 300, Jeff and I talked. During this conversation I firmly grasped a realization I'd previously barely touched upon but dimly felt.
I've become less aggressive, my self-esteem is lower, I have a small bout of depression to complicate my anxiety and I've been slowly (over the past year) cutting myself away from things that I care about, like choir and writing. I haven't really written a poem in weeks, I've only worked on old ones.
I used to say what I wanted and put myself out there. I used to be masculine, and emotionally tough. But maybe that's just a figment of my imagination.
Lately I feel like a lot of things are just in my head. Last night, at the Steak and Shake by my house at about 3am, I told Jeff that sometimes I think I've imagined all the atrocities of the Bush Administration because no one ever mentions them anymore. No one talks about Abu grahib. No one is in an outcry that habeus corpus has been suspended. And a sinking feeling of isolation sets in, and I think to myself, "Did that really happen? No one acts like it happened."
Maybe I just used to perceive myself as masculine, outspoken and aggressive. Maybe I just invented that girl in my head one day when I was writing, and liked her, and thought I'd try her on.
Maybe.
I've become less aggressive, my self-esteem is lower, I have a small bout of depression to complicate my anxiety and I've been slowly (over the past year) cutting myself away from things that I care about, like choir and writing. I haven't really written a poem in weeks, I've only worked on old ones.
I used to say what I wanted and put myself out there. I used to be masculine, and emotionally tough. But maybe that's just a figment of my imagination.
Lately I feel like a lot of things are just in my head. Last night, at the Steak and Shake by my house at about 3am, I told Jeff that sometimes I think I've imagined all the atrocities of the Bush Administration because no one ever mentions them anymore. No one talks about Abu grahib. No one is in an outcry that habeus corpus has been suspended. And a sinking feeling of isolation sets in, and I think to myself, "Did that really happen? No one acts like it happened."
Maybe I just used to perceive myself as masculine, outspoken and aggressive. Maybe I just invented that girl in my head one day when I was writing, and liked her, and thought I'd try her on.
Maybe.