dark spirit of the silent...
Occasionally, late night, I get the opportunity to start thinking about things. Thinking too much. And I start to come to small realizations, little things that just pile up and become overwhelming.
Things like the fact that, in a lot of ways--personality flaws, knee-jerk reactions, things both within and beyond my control--I am an awful person. No, not always, and no, I don't try to be, but there are things about me that are really just wrong. Undesirable. I'm not sure, if I knew everything about me, that I would choose to be friends with me. There's a lot that goes with it, a lot of insufferable, obnoxious, impossible things. I don't know that I'd like me that much.
And then there are things that I really can't reconcile, things that I've done that break my own morals. Small things, yeah, but significant. I don't want to talk, because I can't see any good way to make changes. I can't see any way to...what? To resolve it? I'm not even sure that there's something to resolve. There are things to be discussed, but neither wishes to, neither wants to risk forcing in a change. It's precarious, everything's precarious, tangled and chaotic and confusing. I am utterly uncertain, and I sometimes scare the hell out of myself, because I am so unpredictable. It's strange, because I hate when things are unpredictable.
I've too much time to think tonight, apparently.
And I doubt that I'm making much sense.
It really might be best if I just go to sleep, if I try to stop thinking about so many things. It spirals out of control, and there are no outcomes that suit the larger picture.
Blathering. Falling asleep. Meh.
Things like the fact that, in a lot of ways--personality flaws, knee-jerk reactions, things both within and beyond my control--I am an awful person. No, not always, and no, I don't try to be, but there are things about me that are really just wrong. Undesirable. I'm not sure, if I knew everything about me, that I would choose to be friends with me. There's a lot that goes with it, a lot of insufferable, obnoxious, impossible things. I don't know that I'd like me that much.
And then there are things that I really can't reconcile, things that I've done that break my own morals. Small things, yeah, but significant. I don't want to talk, because I can't see any good way to make changes. I can't see any way to...what? To resolve it? I'm not even sure that there's something to resolve. There are things to be discussed, but neither wishes to, neither wants to risk forcing in a change. It's precarious, everything's precarious, tangled and chaotic and confusing. I am utterly uncertain, and I sometimes scare the hell out of myself, because I am so unpredictable. It's strange, because I hate when things are unpredictable.
I've too much time to think tonight, apparently.
And I doubt that I'm making much sense.
It really might be best if I just go to sleep, if I try to stop thinking about so many things. It spirals out of control, and there are no outcomes that suit the larger picture.
Blathering. Falling asleep. Meh.