still works My nail fell off I slammed the car door shut on it a few months ago And I woke up with a giant pimple I'm assured this situation isn't permanent But I feel like I should be wandering around a medieval village square scaring small children I can't sleep Three weeks left of work I stopped asking myself about what I'll do afterwards I have a question-killing succinct answer But I don't know if I believe it The news is tiring again In a toothache kind of way Before it was more 'stab in the face' instant violent reaction But now it makes me feel helpless and it hurts for longer And everyone else seems to feel heavy too The jokes are more bitter and the laughs Bubble bubble toil and trouble March is an odd time to feel like things are wrapping up Oh shit I'm turning 28 after tomorrow Well yay. Of course yay. I'm glad I'm here. I still don't want cake. It's sort of an effort to want anything lately. It's probably depression but it's the really boring kind. You know, the kind that makes you sleepy and passive and attracted to potato I like potato I don't like this feeling I keep making involuntary stress sounds and tripping on my toes And doing stumble runs Towards parked motorcycles Then squawking/swerving to avoid them while simultaneously straining my left ass cheek... then limping to a car aaaall the way down the road ... Ok that was one incident but its a good illustration of the general clumsiness/shame I skipped a lot of tiny crucial details in this entry For instance, K has been having moments of genius-- like, out-of-body eloquence--and in the middle of a conversation about stinky flu farts And she's sad but this time she's angry too I think the combination of sad and angry is very powerful I've been thinking about combos lately I feel better I missed babbling I think I love babbling. Especially other people babbling in the background. I'd rather listen to a crowded bar than the ocean before bed. I want to write about the other details but I don't know how. I want to admit something to myself now. I'm hurt. By the fishnet stocking exes. XX I can't write about the things that have happened because -- well because usually, I write things down and then they seem smaller and manageable and quaint and fluffy And people see themselves in what I write But now, if I summarize-- there are all these loaded words and there's no other way to explain And I have to respect other people's privacy So there are bits missing And it looks like drama because of the immediacy of turning a person into a term and an event into a sentence-- and people say 'oh that's so interesting' Or they give advice And it's so clinical And that's just after the intro Which makes me feel like I'll never be able to throw up my personal history in its entirety on anyone ever again And I think I really depended on that to figure out how I feel Which makes it annoying when someone says write what you feel because I need to write before I can feel And I don't like writing to myself now I don't think of myself in the third person at all anymore I don't think of future self or how to walk I'd probably be terrible at acting if I tried it again (good) actors have to be raw and floaty I do feel much much better I want to sleep now I guess it still works even with parts cut out |