The harbor pilot of destiny
I'm just trying to feel safe. It's hard, because everything keeps trying to boil over on me (oh yeah, it's going to be a night of unrelated metaphors; roll with it) and I'm just trying to be all right because the stress is causing me to react extremely badly (15 hours of sleep, anyone? Anyone?)
People keep reaching out to me, and I keep not slapping them back, so that's good. I need to be as un-alone as I possibly can be right now, to know that I'm not alone, even though I feel like the alonest thing in Lonelytown. But hell, that describes my first seven boyfriends, too, so maybe I'm incapable of not feeling alone.
Trying to write, and succeeding, though creativity does not come without a cost. My mental energies are already pretty low, and trying to be creative just kind of creates a deficit situation. So I keep smiling--SMILING dammit--and pretending everything's ok (I have two settings in times like these: that one and "crying". I think the smiling one is probably healthier.)
It's taking everything I have, but I don't have a choice anymore. I haven't had a choice in years, but I've been acting like I do. I hope I can figure out why I keep turning my life to shit, and fix that. I hope that I can finally write like I know I can, and I hope I can learn to succeed. And while I know that certain things are now out of reach for me, it doesn't serve me or do me any good to say well, I can't have that, so I must deny myself everything. There are things that I can do, and there are things that i want from life that are attainable.
It remains to be seen whether I will be able to attain them, to navigate myself out of this mess and into a calm sea of "It doesn't suck to be me, at least the majority of the time."
We shall see.
People keep reaching out to me, and I keep not slapping them back, so that's good. I need to be as un-alone as I possibly can be right now, to know that I'm not alone, even though I feel like the alonest thing in Lonelytown. But hell, that describes my first seven boyfriends, too, so maybe I'm incapable of not feeling alone.
Trying to write, and succeeding, though creativity does not come without a cost. My mental energies are already pretty low, and trying to be creative just kind of creates a deficit situation. So I keep smiling--SMILING dammit--and pretending everything's ok (I have two settings in times like these: that one and "crying". I think the smiling one is probably healthier.)
It's taking everything I have, but I don't have a choice anymore. I haven't had a choice in years, but I've been acting like I do. I hope I can figure out why I keep turning my life to shit, and fix that. I hope that I can finally write like I know I can, and I hope I can learn to succeed. And while I know that certain things are now out of reach for me, it doesn't serve me or do me any good to say well, I can't have that, so I must deny myself everything. There are things that I can do, and there are things that i want from life that are attainable.
It remains to be seen whether I will be able to attain them, to navigate myself out of this mess and into a calm sea of "It doesn't suck to be me, at least the majority of the time."
We shall see.