Skip to main content
“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

--T.S. Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

Featured

The Awesome Power of Procrastination

*Trigger Warning: self-harm The power of procrastination is so awesome that even though I have been without Internet access for several hours and I have things that I think I want to do, I have spent that time lying on top of my bed thinking about how I would do all the things I want to do if I were to do them. Very productive. I think that the ideas I have are worth so much more in my head, I can fetishize every negative feeling and pretend that it makes me special or interesting in some way. But when the thoughts become words that I type out and read back, I realise how banal everything about me is. That's probably the real reason writing blog posts and writing in my journal gets a little harder every time. Here is a quick list of the things I should be doing right now: On Tuesday I had a very intense dream that was terrifying enough to make me feel slightly separate from my body all week. Even now, everything feels a little unreal and abnormal; I haven't stopped
Post a Comment
Read more

The Mad Girl: Day 2(.2)

The third stage seems to be kicking in a little earlier than I expected(that's probably why I'm already over the Marilyn Monroe thing. Mostly). I was innocently sitting here, trying to determine my method of suicide while a Christmas Special episode played in the background(those usually help things along quite nicely), when my emotions suddenly decided that this was as good a time as any to make an appearance. I'm not a fan of Christmas, but I am a fan of how much cheaper alcohol is at that time of the year. So it was a bit of a blow to realise I was moved by whatever the hell was going on on that show. I cried because some mentally ill(in a way that is actually quite serious, but all the other characters either ignore it or pretend it's adorable) was having trouble coping with spending his first Christmas without his mother. I don't do Christmas. And if I did, I certainly wouldn't do it with my mother. This is clearly a symptom.

Stage 3(ish): The return of the (good) emotions
You start remembering all the times when you were falling in love and it was perfect and romantic and you could listen to most songs without being filled with seething hatred and resentment. That time when you thought that there was still hope for you yet. That all the people you fell in love with before who had the good sense to cut off all ties to you before the emotional black hole inside you really took effect, just didn't see how wonderful you are. That maybe you are some kind of acquired taste that only very few connoisseurs. Love, in itself, is not a bad thing. It's just that when one gets caught up in all that flowers and butterflies in the stomach and the late-night declarations of love, one forgets what one is and starts to believe the illusion they've created. This stage is kind as well, you can't ask for more than that.


Unforgettable

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts