(no subject)
It looks as though I've taken somewhat of an hiatus from livejournal. I haven't really, but almost everything I have been writing I have been making private, which is normally really unlike me.
My mental state has become a growing cause for concern lately. Just as I will begin to think that I'm doing great (academically, socially, work, etc.), nothing at all will seemingly drag me right back down again. I can't seem to shake this undercurrent. I feel as though there really is no reason for me to be upset...when people ask me, "Why?" I simply tell them that I don't really know. Or I just spout off a bunch of unintelligibly disconnected wishes, ruminations, and/or condemnations about me, my life, or anybody else.
To put it best, I feel as though I am living somebody else's pain. This discontentedness has grown cancerously over the past month or so, and the fact that I can't pinpoint the culprit is what leaves me so perplexed...feeling so helpless. Realistically, I can't be living anybody else's pain except my own, especially somebody I can't even identify. I certainly have lived other people's pain before, but in all honesty, I think it was simply a diversion from my own.
This is everything I did not cope with in the past. Or it is something that only my subconscious is willing to acknowledge.
In any event, I am escaping to L.A. on Tuesday and Wednesday. Brandon and I will be driving down there, and I'm predicting that it will be a luscious combination of "Priscilla Queen of the Desert" (minus the giant bus and the two extra wing-wang owning humans) and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," and I'll be the one behind the fucking wheel. This seems to be the only thing stopping me from crawling back into bed today.
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
-Sylvia Plath, 'Poppies in October'
The sirens had been wailing for far too long, so I shut them off. I feel liberated, as if I have done the right thing, but I also feel wicked in my ways. I think that this time, I broke my own rules.
My mental state has become a growing cause for concern lately. Just as I will begin to think that I'm doing great (academically, socially, work, etc.), nothing at all will seemingly drag me right back down again. I can't seem to shake this undercurrent. I feel as though there really is no reason for me to be upset...when people ask me, "Why?" I simply tell them that I don't really know. Or I just spout off a bunch of unintelligibly disconnected wishes, ruminations, and/or condemnations about me, my life, or anybody else.
To put it best, I feel as though I am living somebody else's pain. This discontentedness has grown cancerously over the past month or so, and the fact that I can't pinpoint the culprit is what leaves me so perplexed...feeling so helpless. Realistically, I can't be living anybody else's pain except my own, especially somebody I can't even identify. I certainly have lived other people's pain before, but in all honesty, I think it was simply a diversion from my own.
This is everything I did not cope with in the past. Or it is something that only my subconscious is willing to acknowledge.
In any event, I am escaping to L.A. on Tuesday and Wednesday. Brandon and I will be driving down there, and I'm predicting that it will be a luscious combination of "Priscilla Queen of the Desert" (minus the giant bus and the two extra wing-wang owning humans) and "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," and I'll be the one behind the fucking wheel. This seems to be the only thing stopping me from crawling back into bed today.
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
-Sylvia Plath, 'Poppies in October'
The sirens had been wailing for far too long, so I shut them off. I feel liberated, as if I have done the right thing, but I also feel wicked in my ways. I think that this time, I broke my own rules.