nothing is more scary than a blank page.
i don't know what to say
i don't know what to say
i don't know what to say
nothing ever seems good enough.
i think it's stupid that the majority of the time i only ever feel like posting when i am upset.
i think it's stupid that i never want to share when and why i am upset.
hence i don't post. rarely when i'm happy, too stubborn when i'm not.
i wish i wasn't secretive.
lately i have been traversing the mountains and valleys of self judgment.
conclusions: i'm pretty cool. mostly, i suck.
like a lot.
whoops.
i miss nejla with my whole whole entire heart and i kind of want to cry in my want of her. i'm not kidding. i was scheming ways today of how i was going to make a trip down there. whether i can afford it or not. whether i take the time off from my pseudo non existent jobs or not.
i want to immerse myself in books.
my dad's house is littered with rental furniture. really nice rental furniture. even the rugs are nice, and i'm picky about rugs you should know. makes me feel even more out of place than i already have been here. so in the way. i guess that's why i'm so anxious for everyone to just pack up and get up and go and then settle down wherever the heck they're going to settle. including me. oof. i feel like a piece of dust or something, something really light and insignificant and i just keep getting tossed around in the air with every slight puff of breath and i can never land and i'm lost. what do i do? what do i do? how do i calm down? i haven't even unpacked my stuff from school. in fact, a part of me just wants to bring most of it back there and dump it in my room. my little room with the ship door closet.
that among other things. i just feel really unsettled and i don't know what my problem is.
my immediate reaction to everything is i'm sorry.
sorry i have been quiet. sorry you can't get inside me. sorry the things you do see are gruesome.
i'm in an ocean and i need a floatie.
i had a really great conversation with kyle and her mom last night about spirituality and religion in their kitchen, with tea and salads. god i will miss that place. be it a crumbling cave of loneliness for them, it has always, to me, been a foundation and a haven. i don't know what it is but they always help me find my footing. weird that it can be two opposing things at the same time. they're so inspiring. they make me so okay. they always have, and that's always so perfect; exactly what i need and more than anything i could ever hope for. they're what made me want to write again, after a drought of indifference.
justin introduced me to this sitcom, how i met your mother. we reference it so often that we abbrev it himym, pronounced him-yum. not only is it a fantastic show, but i'm addicted. go figure. i never watch tv. oh but luckily, he has all the seasons. it's just weird because it's been my drug, as of late. if i'm tired, the loveliest sounding thing is laying down and watching an episode. when i'm upset or anxious all i want to do is turn on himym. when i'm bored i know the perfect resolution. i don't know. i don't know what i think about this, but i'm mostly okay with it i think. just weird.
i wish i could just step outside of myself every once in a while. i think i get so muddled when i'm in here. i wish i could just take a look at myself from an outsider's point of view and be able to rightly judge, honestly, what i think about myself. what i deserve.
i don't know what to say
i don't know what to say
nothing ever seems good enough.
i think it's stupid that the majority of the time i only ever feel like posting when i am upset.
i think it's stupid that i never want to share when and why i am upset.
hence i don't post. rarely when i'm happy, too stubborn when i'm not.
i wish i wasn't secretive.
lately i have been traversing the mountains and valleys of self judgment.
conclusions: i'm pretty cool. mostly, i suck.
like a lot.
whoops.
i miss nejla with my whole whole entire heart and i kind of want to cry in my want of her. i'm not kidding. i was scheming ways today of how i was going to make a trip down there. whether i can afford it or not. whether i take the time off from my pseudo non existent jobs or not.
i want to immerse myself in books.
my dad's house is littered with rental furniture. really nice rental furniture. even the rugs are nice, and i'm picky about rugs you should know. makes me feel even more out of place than i already have been here. so in the way. i guess that's why i'm so anxious for everyone to just pack up and get up and go and then settle down wherever the heck they're going to settle. including me. oof. i feel like a piece of dust or something, something really light and insignificant and i just keep getting tossed around in the air with every slight puff of breath and i can never land and i'm lost. what do i do? what do i do? how do i calm down? i haven't even unpacked my stuff from school. in fact, a part of me just wants to bring most of it back there and dump it in my room. my little room with the ship door closet.
that among other things. i just feel really unsettled and i don't know what my problem is.
my immediate reaction to everything is i'm sorry.
sorry i have been quiet. sorry you can't get inside me. sorry the things you do see are gruesome.
i'm in an ocean and i need a floatie.
i had a really great conversation with kyle and her mom last night about spirituality and religion in their kitchen, with tea and salads. god i will miss that place. be it a crumbling cave of loneliness for them, it has always, to me, been a foundation and a haven. i don't know what it is but they always help me find my footing. weird that it can be two opposing things at the same time. they're so inspiring. they make me so okay. they always have, and that's always so perfect; exactly what i need and more than anything i could ever hope for. they're what made me want to write again, after a drought of indifference.
justin introduced me to this sitcom, how i met your mother. we reference it so often that we abbrev it himym, pronounced him-yum. not only is it a fantastic show, but i'm addicted. go figure. i never watch tv. oh but luckily, he has all the seasons. it's just weird because it's been my drug, as of late. if i'm tired, the loveliest sounding thing is laying down and watching an episode. when i'm upset or anxious all i want to do is turn on himym. when i'm bored i know the perfect resolution. i don't know. i don't know what i think about this, but i'm mostly okay with it i think. just weird.
i wish i could just step outside of myself every once in a while. i think i get so muddled when i'm in here. i wish i could just take a look at myself from an outsider's point of view and be able to rightly judge, honestly, what i think about myself. what i deserve.