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“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

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

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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
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The Loneliness

"I really tried to make it work... It's just the loneliness. It's- I can't take it. And I only know one way to turn it off. I'm sorry."
--Bonnie Bennett, The Vampire Diaries

I've been having a really bad week and I ended up spending a lot more time thinking than I did doing any actual work. I'd like to think that all that thinking wasn't just a waste of time, but I don't think I'm in the sort of mental state that allows me to entertain such delusions.

For the first time in years I let myself think about my ex(the dick, not the asshole), how happy I was with him and how I can never be that happy again. Being with him changed me. I was always only half a person, always an oddball, always alone. But being with him made me realise what that really meant. And I thought I could learn to live with it, I've lived with it before. But I am a different person now and I can't just live with the loneliness any more. I spent the last couple of hours trying to remember how I survived these feelings before. The pain is so intense, I don't understand how anyone can live with it. But people live with it, I lived with the loneliness for decades. Until I fell apart again.

I remembered that Frida Kahlo quote about how lonely she felt, but she still believed that there was another freak just like her somewhere out there. I guess it's statistically possible that there is someone out there who could understand most, if not all, of me and the Internet greatly increases our chances of finding each other. I'd like to think she's out there trying to find her way to me the same way I'm out here trying to find my way to her. I hope she hangs on and doesn't let the loneliness crush her.
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