Melting
I just finished the first season of Slings & Arrows. I think it's the combination of womanly hormones and exhaustion, but nevertheless, it did make me cry a little. And think about everything. EVERYTHING. Hamlet. Me. People. Life. Shakespeare. Shakespeare class. Shakespeare Ensemble. Ted. School. No CSW. Endings. Ted. Hamlet. Last year. This year. Oh god...
I mean, I've generally been in this state of absolute contentment/acceptance of my feelings towards all of the changes in direction that life is taking and going to take. Whether they be positive or negative, I usually feel like I have thought about them, felt them, and talked about them or through them SO much that by this point I fully accept them as they are. So it goes. You know? This is life. It's got positives and negatives. Like a battery! But I don't need chemicals to make my life flow--I'm high on life! Ahahah. Sorry, couldn't help myself there. Ohh dear I am a dork. ANYWAYS though, like I don't feel the need to think about those feelings any more, or discuss them with anyone. In fact, when people bring it up, it peeves me a bit. It's nothing towards the person or people who bring it up, not at all, because a lot of people work through it at different times and through talking or whatever is best for them...it's just that I feel like I'm done with that stage, in my own personal working-it-out process.
BUT.
Every once in a while something occurs that erases that, and makes all of the feelings seem fresh again and they strike me hard. Hamlet seems to have done that. Geez I feel like such a loser typing that down but it's actually true. I don't want to sound pretentious because I'm always afraid that making any reference to a Shakespeare play (outside of class or Shakespeare Ensemble) automatically makes someone sound pretentious, but that's not the play's purpose at all or MY purpose so that shouldn't matter or be a factor in anything. Ugh but it's also this tiredness and these damn hormones. I don't know....sdhgklsdjmfasdhfa;sdjghasklcmslkdhgasdoghaskldjgnmsdkamsf. I'm so ready to go. There are only three things I can't give up; my home, and two people. God, it really stabs me every time I think about how I can't just drag them with me. Even though they won't be gone or I won't be gone I can't see them every day but they own a chunk of myself so what's going to happen to me. That's stupid, I'll be fine. I'll adapt. But I don't want to be fine or adapt. I want to see them every day. What's going to happen to them? Nothing. That's stupider. They'll miss me a little some time, we'll keep in touch, and someday I'll fade into the fabric of one of those nice girls who was such a good person and had talent and oh I wonder what they've made of their life hmm I hope they're happy well they probably are they were a good one. UGH why am I being so DEPRESSING. See, I swear this RARELY happens because of my nice state of CONTENTMENT/ACCEPTANCE. But when it does, just because I'm sick of it when people bring it up and I feel like be done with it already because I am so why aren't you, it does hurt just as much.
It's these damn hormones and exhaustion. I need a nap. And no more Hamlet. And no more listening to this lovely but nostalgic and therefore sadenning playlist. Sheesh, self. I am too sad now. But no, I never want to talk about it. I'm done with that.
I mean, I've generally been in this state of absolute contentment/acceptance of my feelings towards all of the changes in direction that life is taking and going to take. Whether they be positive or negative, I usually feel like I have thought about them, felt them, and talked about them or through them SO much that by this point I fully accept them as they are. So it goes. You know? This is life. It's got positives and negatives. Like a battery! But I don't need chemicals to make my life flow--I'm high on life! Ahahah. Sorry, couldn't help myself there. Ohh dear I am a dork. ANYWAYS though, like I don't feel the need to think about those feelings any more, or discuss them with anyone. In fact, when people bring it up, it peeves me a bit. It's nothing towards the person or people who bring it up, not at all, because a lot of people work through it at different times and through talking or whatever is best for them...it's just that I feel like I'm done with that stage, in my own personal working-it-out process.
BUT.
Every once in a while something occurs that erases that, and makes all of the feelings seem fresh again and they strike me hard. Hamlet seems to have done that. Geez I feel like such a loser typing that down but it's actually true. I don't want to sound pretentious because I'm always afraid that making any reference to a Shakespeare play (outside of class or Shakespeare Ensemble) automatically makes someone sound pretentious, but that's not the play's purpose at all or MY purpose so that shouldn't matter or be a factor in anything. Ugh but it's also this tiredness and these damn hormones. I don't know....sdhgklsdjmfasdhfa;sdjghasklcmslkdhgasdoghaskldjgnmsdkamsf. I'm so ready to go. There are only three things I can't give up; my home, and two people. God, it really stabs me every time I think about how I can't just drag them with me. Even though they won't be gone or I won't be gone I can't see them every day but they own a chunk of myself so what's going to happen to me. That's stupid, I'll be fine. I'll adapt. But I don't want to be fine or adapt. I want to see them every day. What's going to happen to them? Nothing. That's stupider. They'll miss me a little some time, we'll keep in touch, and someday I'll fade into the fabric of one of those nice girls who was such a good person and had talent and oh I wonder what they've made of their life hmm I hope they're happy well they probably are they were a good one. UGH why am I being so DEPRESSING. See, I swear this RARELY happens because of my nice state of CONTENTMENT/ACCEPTANCE. But when it does, just because I'm sick of it when people bring it up and I feel like be done with it already because I am so why aren't you, it does hurt just as much.
It's these damn hormones and exhaustion. I need a nap. And no more Hamlet. And no more listening to this lovely but nostalgic and therefore sadenning playlist. Sheesh, self. I am too sad now. But no, I never want to talk about it. I'm done with that.