a harvest moon... I think that's what it's called when the moon is too big and almost orange in color, when it hangs lower in the sky than usual, like the way it looks to the human eye somehow dictates how high it can rise.
a metaphor for life, just like everything else.
I'm slipping again, I think. it's been a while since I felt this way... purposeless and vulnerable and... I don't know, awful. time is passing in these weird dollops. 4 hours will pass in the blink of an eye and then 10 minutes will drag until I honestly believe they'll never end.
sometimes if I'm walking really fast or staring out the window of a moving car a piece of the landscape will dislodge itself from the picture I'm seeing. just a chunk, and only for a moment, but the experience always leaves me filled with this nameless anxiety. it always snaps right back, but for a minute I always wonder if it ever will, if I'm ever going to see things precisely the way they're meant to be seen. the way other people see them.
the facade is cracking again, and it's strange because it was the most powerful this time... I almost had even myself convinced. I used to be able to pull it together at least for long enough to make it believable, but now? now I'm floating again and it's terrifying. grasping at the things that made me feel - even fleetingly - like I had finally assimilated, finally settled into my life. what a joke. should I steam some vegetables? make some tea? hit the gym? should I talk manically about how good I feel, how much better everything is?
I. don't. know.
Idontknow.
the distraction was welcome, but I'm not stupid enough to blame this whole thing on the fact that it's not there anymore. what the fuck is this and why do I always find myself falling prey to it at the least opportune times? why now, when I really believed things were turning around? what else can I process, forgive myself for? who else can I make amends to? what is left that I haven't already done? already thought about?
forget it. no, really. forget it. please.
a metaphor for life, just like everything else.
I'm slipping again, I think. it's been a while since I felt this way... purposeless and vulnerable and... I don't know, awful. time is passing in these weird dollops. 4 hours will pass in the blink of an eye and then 10 minutes will drag until I honestly believe they'll never end.
sometimes if I'm walking really fast or staring out the window of a moving car a piece of the landscape will dislodge itself from the picture I'm seeing. just a chunk, and only for a moment, but the experience always leaves me filled with this nameless anxiety. it always snaps right back, but for a minute I always wonder if it ever will, if I'm ever going to see things precisely the way they're meant to be seen. the way other people see them.
the facade is cracking again, and it's strange because it was the most powerful this time... I almost had even myself convinced. I used to be able to pull it together at least for long enough to make it believable, but now? now I'm floating again and it's terrifying. grasping at the things that made me feel - even fleetingly - like I had finally assimilated, finally settled into my life. what a joke. should I steam some vegetables? make some tea? hit the gym? should I talk manically about how good I feel, how much better everything is?
I. don't. know.
Idontknow.
the distraction was welcome, but I'm not stupid enough to blame this whole thing on the fact that it's not there anymore. what the fuck is this and why do I always find myself falling prey to it at the least opportune times? why now, when I really believed things were turning around? what else can I process, forgive myself for? who else can I make amends to? what is left that I haven't already done? already thought about?
forget it. no, really. forget it. please.
