(no subject)

[espinarte]

I feel as if I have a new sense of myself. I feel like I've broken out of the shell I was trapped in and my new skin tingles from the dirty city air around me, and it feels good. The blanket has lifted. I can't even pinpoint what has allowed this to happen, or what exactly has affected me to the point of disilusion, or at least that's what I am close to. Maybe it's the fact that Malachi and I talk again. And maybe it's also the fact that I can write out his name and not cringe with a heavy heart when I read it. Maybe it's the fact that typing out his name instead of typing his initial M in reference to him is a positive thing, unlike before. Maybe I'm finally accepting the idea that we are friends, regardless of all else. My heart belongs to him, as he deserves it, and I want him to have it. But friends I believe I can deal with. We laughed on the phone like we did when we used to hang out some years ago, and it felt fresh, not forced. I think my broken heart is finally healed properly, and the weight I've been carrying around is no more. It feels absolutely wonderful. I'm noticing it also in my art. My simple sketching I do has a lighter, more flowing feel to it. I feel amused as I sketch and satisfied once it's completed. Unlike before, colors are lighter and more boldly matched. This has never happened before. It clashes with all else I've done. It contradicts everything I've ever been, everything I have in my house, everything I've ever attempted. I just don't know what to do with myself.

I have learned one thing though. I've never realized how terrible I used to sleep. I guess I was so used to it that I never realized that I've never actually slept through the night. It's a glorious feeling to wake up and only remember going to bed. No one will care about these findings. No one will respond to this. But I don't care. I just don't care anymore. It feels ok.