On my feet
Living in my own mind for a whole day can truely be a horrifying experience, especially when one half of me is screaming to get out and the other half is telling me it's too hard and too late to change anything.
Escapism is getting old, so I pile on layers of clothing and run out into the snow. Dad misinterprets and thinks i'm going out for a run. I deserve to be called crazy. I laugh at him and explain that I'm daydreaming of hospital white snowmen with bright torquoise scarves and baby carrot noses, but it's not to be because the snow won't stick. So instead I follow the deer hoofprints through the garden before taking off across the tundra and surveying the woods and the river. I get mesmorized by the sound of snowflakes falling on polyurethane before turning and running through two feet of snow until my lungs hurt. Good, clean hurt, unlike all the other pain that's been swirling around in my mind.
I read what Tegan has to say and I have to agree with her. You can't go for too long without growth, and I feel like I've reverted rather than grown. I told everyone in France that I'm stuck at age 16. It makes sense in too many ways and I feel like I'm living through everything I should have gotten over two years ago. I'm trying to scramble out of my own skin, I'm trying to turn myself around, and I'm holding myself in the same place all at the same time. I talk to the girls that have lived through 18 to tell me about it - the sister and the drag king - and they give me a sort of watery hope. It might disolve in an hour but for the moment its enough for me to float on.
sorry if this is the weirdest thing ever, i've just been needing to write all day.
Escapism is getting old, so I pile on layers of clothing and run out into the snow. Dad misinterprets and thinks i'm going out for a run. I deserve to be called crazy. I laugh at him and explain that I'm daydreaming of hospital white snowmen with bright torquoise scarves and baby carrot noses, but it's not to be because the snow won't stick. So instead I follow the deer hoofprints through the garden before taking off across the tundra and surveying the woods and the river. I get mesmorized by the sound of snowflakes falling on polyurethane before turning and running through two feet of snow until my lungs hurt. Good, clean hurt, unlike all the other pain that's been swirling around in my mind.
I read what Tegan has to say and I have to agree with her. You can't go for too long without growth, and I feel like I've reverted rather than grown. I told everyone in France that I'm stuck at age 16. It makes sense in too many ways and I feel like I'm living through everything I should have gotten over two years ago. I'm trying to scramble out of my own skin, I'm trying to turn myself around, and I'm holding myself in the same place all at the same time. I talk to the girls that have lived through 18 to tell me about it - the sister and the drag king - and they give me a sort of watery hope. It might disolve in an hour but for the moment its enough for me to float on.
sorry if this is the weirdest thing ever, i've just been needing to write all day.