it is currently 11:09 on the first night of september
i am sitting alone in the living room, curled on the couch, and ignoring the flashing of a muted television i am too lazy to turn off. life is strange.
last week i witnessed the release of happiness and the emergence of a familiar unease. as i’ve just told a beautiful friend: i feel the low rumbling of an explosion i am trying to deny.
luckily i am no longer naive enough to believe ignoring what i feel is appropriate. my emotions exist. they are tangible forces who dislike a lack of attention and affection. i am not yet a master of my emotions — they still run wild, claiming themselves untamable as i chase them through the thicket of dust their storms kick up. wrapping your arms around anxiety, fear, and depression likens to wrapping your arms around a cactus. it never feels truly comfortable.
the blogging format offers me a chance to communicate authentically. there exists on the internet a beautiful anonymity, a distance between my computer screen and yours. within it, i feel protected.
additionally, the written word continues to be the best medium for me to express myself without losing integrity. i still attempt to apply such authenticity to my spoken word. honesty out loud comes frustratingly infrequently. i practice here.
so, i feel the need to say: sometimes i will discuss unnerving, commonplace disruptions. struggle comes with the privilege of being human. to me, not talking about it in any form leaves me numb and stunted. i ask you to accept my process, and to allow me to exhale my worries here, no matter how egotistical, shallow, silly, or inane they may be.
tonight, i continue to unravel. as a person who was born during the week of drama and criticism, my brain rarely rests. the person i am is not a person my mind can accept. i think often of trashing the person i am, but i know that possibility is not a possibility at all. i was born into this life, into this personhood, and fighting what is simply drains me.
last night one of my dearest, closest friends said: not everything has to have meaning.
this literally devastated me.
life, as it turns out, is not as serious as i keep seeing it. not every thing and every one and every second needs an analysis. i do not know everything. everything does not need to be known. i am learning how to let it be and how to let go.
now it is 12:30 on the second day of september.
i am still on the couch in the living room, still alone, though i’ve managed to turn off the television and am now listening to john mayer (no one should be surprised. born and raised, like continuum, explains my life in melodies and verses).
i feel i am losing my mind in subtle ways.
i still don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
but i do know it feels good to be honest.