(no subject)
There's a fuckton of shit going down.
Everything erupted and the pieces of the mountain are scattered around me, and now I'm picking and choosing what to keep. It's terrifying. I don't know what I can't afford to lose -- people, my sanity, my independence, my future. I find comfort in the fact that there's happiness to be found everywhere if you keep your eyes wide enough, so it'll never be too bad ... it's just fucking miserable when you're scared of losing something but you don't know what it is. Gah.
I think about my friends, I think about my past, I think about those I've loved and I think about when I've loved myself, and the world just seems so...full, of everything it could possibly be. Then I think how it could be without some of that and I shudder..."I cannot bring you back from/these ladders that you're climbing on" ~ Ladders, Lovedrug....the world is vibrant and lit, and I want to go play some more. I'm so far from done. Yet the choices on where to go, what to do, are arbitrary -- all it is a name and a pinpoint, otherwise you'd be anywhere. With anyone. So, does it really matter? Somehow it does. Gahhhhhhhhh.
It's unbelievably depressing the way things can be so right and then get so wrong so fast. It makes everything feel like such a fucking risk, like why trust anybody or anything.
Today I actually got up on time, showered before class, had breakfast, read....it was good. Actually, it was a great day save for one argumentative moment, that I regret but needed, in retrospect. So a good day. I am capable of designing good days for myself on my own accord (a simple feat, sure, but it's the little things).
He never understood me the way I needed him to. It didn't help the already stacked-against us odds. He loves me, and I feel that love so deeply and purely, but something in it feels distant. Always kinda has, really. Broke up with him last Monday, but it just doesn't feel over.
The pit in my stomach keeps growing, and I just feel kind of dead, but I seem outwardly happy, or so I've been told. Strange. I just feel like I don't give a fuck anymore, and I'm gonna run out these batteries til they're dead. So in a way, nothing is new.
On the bright side, came home kinda drunk to a hilarious Daily Orange staff email, which made me miss the old days almost enough to go back. They gave me a story, a hard one. Fuck me. Fuck journalism! I love it though. Even Newhouse, in all it's casual, ambivalent, hipster revolution, feels more like home to me these days than most places. It's amazing to me how places you've walked by hundreds of times can inspire you all at once...
Everything erupted and the pieces of the mountain are scattered around me, and now I'm picking and choosing what to keep. It's terrifying. I don't know what I can't afford to lose -- people, my sanity, my independence, my future. I find comfort in the fact that there's happiness to be found everywhere if you keep your eyes wide enough, so it'll never be too bad ... it's just fucking miserable when you're scared of losing something but you don't know what it is. Gah.
I think about my friends, I think about my past, I think about those I've loved and I think about when I've loved myself, and the world just seems so...full, of everything it could possibly be. Then I think how it could be without some of that and I shudder..."I cannot bring you back from/these ladders that you're climbing on" ~ Ladders, Lovedrug....the world is vibrant and lit, and I want to go play some more. I'm so far from done. Yet the choices on where to go, what to do, are arbitrary -- all it is a name and a pinpoint, otherwise you'd be anywhere. With anyone. So, does it really matter? Somehow it does. Gahhhhhhhhh.
It's unbelievably depressing the way things can be so right and then get so wrong so fast. It makes everything feel like such a fucking risk, like why trust anybody or anything.
Today I actually got up on time, showered before class, had breakfast, read....it was good. Actually, it was a great day save for one argumentative moment, that I regret but needed, in retrospect. So a good day. I am capable of designing good days for myself on my own accord (a simple feat, sure, but it's the little things).
He never understood me the way I needed him to. It didn't help the already stacked-against us odds. He loves me, and I feel that love so deeply and purely, but something in it feels distant. Always kinda has, really. Broke up with him last Monday, but it just doesn't feel over.
The pit in my stomach keeps growing, and I just feel kind of dead, but I seem outwardly happy, or so I've been told. Strange. I just feel like I don't give a fuck anymore, and I'm gonna run out these batteries til they're dead. So in a way, nothing is new.
On the bright side, came home kinda drunk to a hilarious Daily Orange staff email, which made me miss the old days almost enough to go back. They gave me a story, a hard one. Fuck me. Fuck journalism! I love it though. Even Newhouse, in all it's casual, ambivalent, hipster revolution, feels more like home to me these days than most places. It's amazing to me how places you've walked by hundreds of times can inspire you all at once...