I caught myself thinking, 'It's been a while...'
It felt dreary sitting in my head - mildly weighted, but a dull, shallow thought nonetheless.
This can only mean it's a Sunday.
I'm sitting in my living room. I rolled my bar cart to a corner, placed my laptop a top, and added a bar stool to officially appoint it my new office. I'm reheating leftover spaghetti that Anna's mom made, and of course, my coffee has turned cold from sitting out. I don't even like coffee. It feels like I never have. I may have been drinking it out of obligation to pay attention to my day, but I can't remember most details of anything now. It's a pointless habit, and it all tastes like shit to me. I must find the silliness of it cute or something.
After eating dinner the other night, I said aloud that I wanted 8 more hours in the day so I can bull shit like I used to. Then at 50 y/o, the hours will begin to lessen to coincide with the moment of my death. The slower I get, the less time I need to spend anticipating. I'm just so tired all the time, and I miss hanging with moments. I may be spending the majority of my spare time unwinding from working all day. My brain and bones. My brain and my fucking bones...
I've only been listening to King Princess. Back at it again with the gay bullshit. It reminds me of when I first Anna. And what that yearning felt like. That incredible pain that somehow lit my ass on fire and demanded me to get my life. It also reminded me of when I first started listening to Tegan and Sara. And what that teenage, gay yearning felt like. First understanding that I was queer and how music was helping me make sense of it.
My adoration for the memories of these...pains. I adore the recalling of it. And I know I'd been miserable through it. But without the miseries, I wouldn't find so much beauty in life all of a sudden. And though it may often bring me sullen, nonsensical bull shit, I still will never help but love this shit.
I feel choppy - fitting since I haven't spoken in so long. Fitting since ...after all these years, there's a comfort being right here. When my thoughts were purely to express precisely how I wish. Not that my thoughts are now spoken for... but my thoughts I intend to share outside of this. This was my solitude. This has been with me for so long. I was just writing the other day about the different journals I've gone through since I was in the 4th grade. And I was wondering why there's a huge chunk of the happiest moments of my youth that I wasn't carrying a journal. And I remembered that I was here, replacing my forlorn entries with photos of my friends and the gorgeous little madness we all shared.
Now I'm missing from here, but I'm elsewhere and altogether whole. And I was wondering why and how I feel so whole. Because I never see my friends as often. And I never get to wander through this life as often. But I never feel as lonely as how I used to. I never feel like I'm missing out on anything anymore. I never feel like I have to be at a multiple places at once because of a heavy fomo. I can stay out here and be whole.
Is this it?
Finally.
My adoration for the memories of these...pains. I adore the recalling of it. And I know I'd been miserable through it. But without the miseries, I wouldn't find so much beauty in life all of a sudden. And though it may often bring me sullen, nonsensical bull shit, I still will never help but love this shit.
I feel choppy - fitting since I haven't spoken in so long. Fitting since ...after all these years, there's a comfort being right here. When my thoughts were purely to express precisely how I wish. Not that my thoughts are now spoken for... but my thoughts I intend to share outside of this. This was my solitude. This has been with me for so long. I was just writing the other day about the different journals I've gone through since I was in the 4th grade. And I was wondering why there's a huge chunk of the happiest moments of my youth that I wasn't carrying a journal. And I remembered that I was here, replacing my forlorn entries with photos of my friends and the gorgeous little madness we all shared.
Now I'm missing from here, but I'm elsewhere and altogether whole. And I was wondering why and how I feel so whole. Because I never see my friends as often. And I never get to wander through this life as often. But I never feel as lonely as how I used to. I never feel like I'm missing out on anything anymore. I never feel like I have to be at a multiple places at once because of a heavy fomo. I can stay out here and be whole.
Is this it?
Finally.
