the most i've wrote in months: Pausing in Life's Pleasures
The last couple weeks have been rough, to say the least, I don't feel like I'm in my own life, just sitting by watching shit happen. I started reading a book, Loose Girl, but it's not cut and dry sex, it's much more complicated. This girl has sex to fill this gap, substituting it for love, which is what she really needs/wants. I love reading, but I hate how involved I become. I feel like i'm living that life, when clearly I'm not. But I suppose their our similarities to my own life, the way she choreographs her movements and what she says to get where she wants, although she looks for instant gratification whereas I try to find something much more lasting.
English is what i want to do with my life, but it gets so hard sometimes, to not fall into the books and lose myself to them. Coupled with alcohol, not my finest moment, not that I care much, I got a lot off my chest. I said things I've wanted to say and things I had no one to really say them to so I just let them go in the whirlwind between the bathroom floor and toilet.
It's time to get my ship into shape, I'm through with not being worth it, to people who I've cared so much for and tried so hard to help/fix/love. For the last year it seems I've not been worth it to try, to call, to appreciate, to in the very least say thank you. --this sounds awful, there are good friends who listen and give back, and they are greatly appreciated, around them I feel like I can breathe, like it's Autumn again when Sarah and I listened to Owen and walked everywhere and talked about everything(from Ayn Rand to bread in palms to True Love).
I don't know if I'm happy or not, I don't really know anything anymore, and it's okay because it just means I can start back at sqaure one(it took a world of trouble it took a world of tears it took a long time to get back here). I know this fresh feeling won't last long, probably not through the night, but I'll try holding it as long as I can and do something good with it.