going on here
sometimes feels like a strange and frightening habit. at times i choose to avoid it for long periods of time and at others i feel an insatiable compulsion to read and re-read my own words, and to think about them. to punish myself with old feelings. and it seems like so many things i do are an attempt at self-punishment...
i get tired. i want to sleep. but i push myself to stay awake until my eyes are crossing and i'm staggering and i know i'll be miserable tomorrow.
i meet new people who seem like friends. when they say "let's hang out" i flake on them. even if i like them. i'm afraid of having new friends. or think i don't deserve them? i'm not really sure. even old friends, i have to push myself to actually meet up with them. i remind myself that it will be fun, and that i will like it. and yet, i cannot muster the feeling of wanting to hang out. disinclination. i'm glad at least that there is a word for him.
the girls i used to be, she's a stranger to me now. so different and so young. i'm not sure particularly how i am changed but i know i am. i find myself nostalgic for a freer, more colorful me, but then i wonder, why was i that way? what was i then that i am not now, and is it a bad thing? a good thing? and i missing some ingredient for what i was or perhaps possessing an extra one? i'm really not sure.
i get tired. i want to sleep. but i push myself to stay awake until my eyes are crossing and i'm staggering and i know i'll be miserable tomorrow.
i meet new people who seem like friends. when they say "let's hang out" i flake on them. even if i like them. i'm afraid of having new friends. or think i don't deserve them? i'm not really sure. even old friends, i have to push myself to actually meet up with them. i remind myself that it will be fun, and that i will like it. and yet, i cannot muster the feeling of wanting to hang out. disinclination. i'm glad at least that there is a word for him.
the girls i used to be, she's a stranger to me now. so different and so young. i'm not sure particularly how i am changed but i know i am. i find myself nostalgic for a freer, more colorful me, but then i wonder, why was i that way? what was i then that i am not now, and is it a bad thing? a good thing? and i missing some ingredient for what i was or perhaps possessing an extra one? i'm really not sure.