I’m in a bad way
My sleeping schedule is upside down. I’m lovesick. I’m heartbroken. I can’t eat anything without shitting blood. My lips are chapped. My teeth keep grazing my canker sore. I’m breaking out. I’m dreading another day of work.
But I’d still rather be alone, than be with you.
Outside, the snowfall is fast but light. From the blanket of white on the cars, one can tell how long it’s been snowing. Against this white is the aching orange glow of the sky, and the warm fluorescent street lamps. The blinds of the houses across the street are all closed and the lights are off.
City in a snow globe. Lifeless. Plastic. Shaken.
In the darkness of my living room, Emiliana Torrini sings to me about love in the time of science.
It shouldn’t hurt me to be free
It’s what I really need
To pull myself together
But if it’s so good being free
Would you mind telling me
Why I don’t know what to do with myself
It’s the last day of the year. The little clock on my screen tells me it’s six minutes to 2 a.m. I should be in bed, but this is the only chance I have to write.
Where did the time go? I thought I would be bored, or lonely, during the holiday stretch, only to discover that it wasn’t long enough.
They say that the days, months, years pass faster, the older you get.
Maybe this means I’m getting old.
Hi there.
I’m already in holiday mode. Sure, I have one day of work left — Monday — but my brain has checked out. I even took the day off yesterday and made it a long weekend because I have extra vacation days left, and they can’t be carried forward.
This is how I spend most of my time nowadays: on my new chaise lounge from EQ3, with a mug of tea by my side, in a generally unkempt manner. Unshaven, with the flourish of a cowlick in my hair.
Last year, in which I declared that Christmas is dead, I stayed home out of spite, not directed at anyone but myself. This year, I’ve decided to go to Shirley’s for Christmas Eve and Christmas, and Pat and Jen’s for New Year’s.
But there’s a stretch of a several days in between in which I have no plans. Even though it’ll be a chance for me to do some extra writing, work on my photo projects, maybe even relax a bit, part of me wishes I was busy like everyone else.
I know I don’t have anything to complain about. I’m lucky enough to be spending the “important” days with friends who are important to me. I’m even lucky enough to have a choice of where to go. But I know that during the stretch, when other people has somewhere to be, somewhere to go, I’ll feel somewhat forlorn. They’ll have a place where they belong.
Maybe I’ll belong here, at home alone, on this wonderful chaise.
Things haven’t been going my way. As much as I try to let them go, I can’t. There’s just too much right now. My mind jumps from one thing to another when I’m in bed.
I need to stay away from the blogosphere for a while. Not writing, but being a part of my usual cliques and forums. The drama lately has been really pissing me off, and it’s certainly not helping.
It’s six in the morning and I’ve been awake for…hmmm…two hours? Another hour before I’m off to work. Maybe writing this has helped.
Pick yourself up, you son-of-a-bitch, because no one’s going to do it for you.
Edit: Nope. Fuck it. I’m going to work, and bringing my hoodie, and a copy of Taxi Driver. I wonder if it’s raining outside.
Crank it. Loud, and maybe you’ll understand how I feel.
I’ve been in such a slump the last week. Maybe I’m over-worked, over-tired, and over-stressed. Things haven’t been going my way.
It’s filled me with such frustration, sadness, and anger.
Now I’m left to face the ugly world alone, and all I can think is to never put your trust in someone. Never be dependent, never expect anything from anyone because you’ll only get hurt.
I try to rationalize everything and follow the Tao, but I can’t. Everything is so overwhelming.
As much as I’ve learned, as much wisdom as I’ve gained, as far as I’ve come, I’m still human.