I feel brittle.
I don’t know why exactly. Well I guess I know why, I just don’t want to say so.
Not just brittle, but spiky. Edgy. Fragile. Irritated and impatient.
I’m busy being busy. Doing all the things, and doing nothing, making noise for myself, distracting myself from whatever is going on.
It works for the most part.
But I am caught in a quiet moment right now. Can’t concentrate enough to talk …
The move went smoothly, my new place was clear of mess and liveable by the end of the first day (a promise I made to myself because clutter stresses me out and I did NOT want to wake up to stacks of boxes everywhere the following morning).
Though by ‘liveable’ I don’t mean that everything was all done and dusted. I’m not magic!
I mean that I had Carl (my coffee machine) ready to go …
So I’ve mentioned my unstable living situation a few times now, so it’s no surprise that I’m moving.
Packing doesn’t seem like such a big thing. It’s a vague ‘I hate packing’ thing until you are in it.
It’s not the big things that are painful: Empty contents of wardrobe into a box, there, done.
It’s the millions of little things that make it such a daunting task.
That and the overwhelming urge to do …
This random list came out of a little game on Twitter (you follow me on the Twitter, right? Of course you do! Then you know all of this already…).
- I have sex toys that I have literally never used. Virgin sex toys: that’s a thing, right?
- I usually masturbate every day, even if I don’t really feel like it
- Re number 2: I have a genuine fear that if I don’t keep my (literal…
Sometimes I feel like my entire life is a performance for some unknown audience outside of myself.
I had a good cry this morning. Like you do when shit happens.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and wondered who it was for.
If I write about it here, was it for you, dear readers?
Some angsty vulnerable moment that I subconsciously know I will share later? Some act that I am performing for …
We are all scared, I said.
I know but I’m really scared.
Everything. I’m scared of everything.
Well cut that shit out. A short laugh. Not unkind.
You can. Pick them out one at a time, those fears. A small one first. Take out your sword and your shield and brandish them like a warrior in full flight. Run at it hard. Like your life depends on it. When you get …
I’m tired of expecting people to do the right thing.
Even more, I’m tired of feeling like I can’t expect them to do the right thing.
It’s utterly exhausting and depressing to expect the worst of people.
I don’t want to. Truly I don’t. And I try really hard to keep it at bay, to hang onto that smiling wide-eyed optimism that I used to have in droves.
I think it makes me an uglier …