I hope there is some sort of cosmic reason as to why I'm still up. Irem's already asleep, tightly curled up on my bed, warm and safe there, though a bit uncomfortable as my reading lights are diffracted on the wall and find their way into her eyes. The image bothers me a little, but I must do what I need to...or so I am hoping a motto like that exists somewhere with quite the tolerance.
Why am I here, again, after such a small break? Usually, on nights like these I prefer to write into my journal, keep it tucked away in my red bin where no one ever even spots it. After the entry is done, even I forget about it. After all, what is a few thousand entries like that in the journal of a basket case like me? Anyway, I wanted to write and here's the relief cream to the itch.
We can say I've had a long day. At least a full day. Unfortunately things are not looking up for me. There is no positive picture to hang on my wall and glance at it every time one little thing goes wrong. On the other hand, there are plenty of negative pictures constantly undermining any step further, a positive line, a warm smile or even a genuine thought. Often, it feels like the universe is trying to discourage me from, well basically doing anything in my life or living with a solid purpose, (one of the many I'd love to have) that I'm passionate about. Circles are the message here, the theme, the symbolism, the metaphor and well, the point of this whole damn Blog.
Things are not only up in the air, therefore chaotic, but it's like a labyrinth not only inside my mind (not to mention the huge emptiness I feel inside, or more correctly, nonexistence of any feeling thereof to mention, other than physical clues to my physical well-being) but so is each circumstance. I think of my environmental factors and circumstantial blocks as ribbons, red ribbons to be precise. The problem is that actually only a few are directly linked to me of which only few I've tugged on with a pinky finger, but these red ribbons seem to form a perfect circle by tightly holding hands with one another and coming to jab me with it about from a million and perhaps more possible sources. Those darn ribbons! They're solid and flexible. No matter where I try to tackle the problem at, any solution I find, they find a way to nestle there and create more obstacles, further disabling me from being a human being that can function at her capacity. I don't want to be brilliant, I just want to function in the capacity I should be. Not under it. If there is one thing I truly despise that is probably lazy people and just having a grand old lazy life. I am about ready to X this post and never let a pair of human eyes look at it ever again. Perhaps cockroaches would enjoy it more in paper format for something of a snack.
I am stuck in the tightest rut hole I've ever been in (and I've been in plenty of them before, all pretty darn tight, and here I am with the tightest where my lungs can't expand enough for a full breath. I've learned to live with breathing through my nose only with huffs and puffs instead) and well, unless some sort of miracle or something just short of that doesn't happen, I doubt anything will get better. But yet, for the first time since about almost three years now, I have my old and what I used to think very innate confidence. I had never worried before I had moved to Wisconsin, I've learned to worry out here, in the neck of the woods (I've always linked it with/ blamed it on my awareness of my own situation actually being awake and functioning, rather than blindly living as I believe I've used to do) I have that foolish innate confidence that keeps me smiling throughout the day, once or twice just enough to get me home to a misery crash in front of my journal or on my laptop. I feel like things are going to go right for me this time around and I'm actually throwing large rocks towards the bottom of an endless lake where I keep praying I'll just throw enough that an island will emerge built on the rocks I've so vehemently thrown in there a phase or two ago. That pretty much summarizes the entire situation without naming any specifics, as if I actually needed to point out the obvious and banal. While I've learned to worry more, it also seems that I've recaptured some of my old resilience and spark to actually go out, put myself out there and do things I might not have had the courage (or had that courage crippled, namely...I am not going to do this game again though). It feels well pretty good to be blatant. But it also feels like home, reassuring and entrenching seeds of hope into my once fertile and virile, but now scorched and impotent soil. I guess time will tell. Hopefully it won't pass too quickly where I'll end up with empty palms once again.
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