DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT
There are a lot of lines between a lot of things and I don’t know what side I’m on. I feel SO MUCH. But I…just…I feel, despite everything I know about writing, really unable to address what I want to address. In both reality and on the page. I am literally frozen by failure. I am spiralling into something. In the car, my mother said you just can’t do this, you just can’t. And I know what she means and I know what I mean and I didn’t say anything, because I don’t have an answer right now.
I just have to remember things, face things, be adult about things in a way that I am consistently rejecting. I am rejecting being honest. Rejecting integrity. Rejecting who I would like to think I really am because I’m pretty scared of going through the fire. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it’s making me feel like…I don’t want to be hyperbolic…not when just today this woman I know wound up completely disoriented in a hospital after a suicide attempt …I don’t mean to express any wishes like that. It’s just this constant emptiness and loneliness and people talking past you and around you and you feeling like you’re being patient, you’re being smart, you’re handling everything as best you can, and it doesn’t matter. It gets dark, sometimes, and this regression I’m doing as a way to sort of put my head in the sand is getting to me too. I want to be where everyone else is. I want to be doing what everyone else is doing. But I feel wildly disinvited and the idea of making my own party, making myself happy and not giving a damn about anyone else isn’t clicking for me right now.
I’m just frustrated. That’s what it boils down to and I’m letting that frustration play out and warp what I’m doing and I’m throwing out babies with bathwater. I’m just venting. I want someone to take my burdens from me. I want to be without responsibility. I want … not to be cossetted even though that’s sometimes how it comes out…but to engaged with, heard, befriended.
But I have friends, dear friends, who are there for me and would be there more if I weren’t too vague and embarassed about my failures to share with them. I have a generally really helpful family. I have a lot of resources. I think that’s what makes it hard is that it’s my choice and I’m weak. I’m a mess right now. I just have to say that I don’t want to be a mess and get to work.
They found my tailight, whole and intact, by the rose bush. My father says he can fix it easy. I just have to go through one more awkward day of getting to work. I think it’ll sort of work tomorrow. It’ll sort of work. I will sort of work.
Smile.
Drink water.
Sleep.
Bath.
Play guitar.
Read.
Do something about it.
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