Old school blogging

I can't listen to music. I don't feel like baking. Or cooking a giant breakfast. I don't want to see any movie that I've already seen and I don't want to see new ones that have anything to do with anyone or thing being even remotely romantically interested in each other. I don't like taking showers or trying on lots of earrings. I don't like buying knick-knacks or fancy fake meat. I don't want to hear poetry or smell seasons. I don't want to go hiking or make elaborate plans to get lost. I hate lying around in bed and I don't like being home alone. I hate that it's beautiful out and I have no one to make spir of the moment plans with. I hate feeling trapped in the city, to only travel as far as my bike with tired legs and wimpy shoes can travel with a dog strapped on my back and tipsy bags dangling.

I never search for a tissue or a napkin. All the stains you see are probably snot or what I've been eating the past couple of weeks. I don't care how much energy these space heaters use or that I have them on every day even if it's warm outside. I don't want to meet anyone. Not anyone that I have to try to make a nice impression, anyway. I don't care how my sheets never get changed even though they're covered in tiny forms of paw print dirt. I don't care that I don't wash off all this cheap produce from south america or that it sits around and births fruit flies.

It's hard to focus on the new. To jazz yourself up for new people or activities or streets you've never walked down or to not lose it when you're out and that song comes on. I've never wanted time or motions to pass more quickly. To be someplace else completely and have no connection to anything familiar. I used to have such a beautiful window view of everything from way up high and now I have a narrow strip of natural light that lets me see a small maroon tree.

It's hard to not be scared of the unknown. It used to excite me -- I wanted to charge it head on. I looked forward to the bruises and battle scars but now it's as is my legs are missing and I have to sit quietly and wait for it to creep up around me and hope that some part of it is good or at least leaves me the rest of my limbs. It's helped to hear that it was the right thing to do. I wish I could wake up to a slap in the face, an ice cold reminder of being strong and believing in wanting to move on and be my own person.

I feel like so much time has gone by already and I'm only now beginning to understand the emotional toll it's taking on my mind and spirit. So I've decided that I can't contain it all, I just possibly can't carry it all myself and while I might feel like a jerk-ass for constantly being debbie downer I need to release and share it and learn how to cope. So what if this new plan involves crying everytime I feel one coming on, or watching a shitload of TV. I can't hide being sad and I shouldn't try to cover it up anymore. Thanks for letting me share.