It sometimes amazes me what it takes to open my eyes. I have spent so much of my last several years needing other people to hold me up and I should have been holding myself up. It took almost losing someone who has become one of the most important people in my life to see what I was doing. The sad thing is that in all of my selfishness, they were suffering too. They needed someone to help hold them up and I was not there for them. I am disgusted with myself for that. However, I am starting to find my strength again and if they need me I will do everything I can to be there for them. I hope they know that. I am not 100% by any means, but I am strong enough to shoulder some of it.

Wow, the last two days have been beautiful. The sun is shining and I have had to have my window open at work. I just want to go out and play.

Bjork - Who is it

His embrace, a fortress
It fuels me
And places
A skeleton of trust
Right beneath us
Bone by bone
Stone by stone
If you ask yourself patiently and carefully:
Who is it ?
Who is it that never lets you down ?
Who is it that gave you back your crown ?
And the ornaments are going around
Now they're handing it over
Handing it over

He demands a closeness
We all have earned a lightness
Carry my joy on the left
Carry my pain on the right

If you ask yourself patiently and carefully:
Who is it ?
Who is it that never lets you down ?
Who is it that gave you back your crown ?
And the ornaments are going around
Now they're handing it over
Handing it over

I don’t know anything anymore. I trudge on, I have all these damn emotions that I can’t seem to wrangle and it feels like they splatter on the people I love the most. I say the wrong things at the wrong time and I make it worse by rambling on about inane things. I wish I was the girl I used to be before I got married. I was strong and confident and more able to deal with all the shit in my head. I don’t see any of that girl in me anymore. I am afraid of everything. I hide behind this layer of giggles and stupid. I don’t know how to find the me I was or to become the me I am supposed to be. I don’t know what interests me anymore. I can’t create art. I crave it, but I don’t do it. Maybe fear of rejection or maybe fear of what my art will show me. I am 34 years old and I don’t know who I am. That is pretty pathetic really.

One thing that I do know is that I love. I don’t say it often enough and I ahahah don’t say it right, but I do. Fiercely. And loving that way can hurt. It sometimes makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry until it’s all out. I do need to find out who I am before that love can make more sense, but I will and then look out.

I think I’ve lost my way. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I am so very tired.

/rant

I’m tired. I’m tired of wanting and wanting and not getting. I am tired of being let down by people. I am tired of even caring. I am tired of worry and stupid people doing stupid things. I am tired of going to school and not knowing what I want to do with the education I am getting. I am tired of being sick and I am tired of being tired.

I just want to go. I want to travel this world and see and do and fuck and sing and explore. I want to meet people who have never been to America. I want to learn new languages by immersing myself in them. I want to stomp in rain puddles in London and see the green green green of Scotland. Nairn, in fact. It’s a golf resort town. I don’t like golf, but I still want to go there.

I want him to whisper dirty things in my ear as we fuck. I want to come screaming under him only to start all over again after a few minutes of gasping. I want to break furniture and make the neighbors sigh with envy. The kind of fucking you need a few days to recover from. The kind of fucking that lays it all bare.

I want to paint and sculpt things from clay. I want to create outer manifestations of the results of all this fucking. Giant sculptures of metal and glass that make people shiver to look upon. Make their nipples hard and their lips tremble.

I want to not be afraid. I want to think that I am capable of doing these things and be fearless enough to try them.

The wind and Dr. Who

Today I am in a good mood. It’s actually a wonderful thing because I haven’t been in a good mood in a couple of weeks now. I have had the sads. No need to go into why, but they have been deep and all encompassing. To the point that my mother asked me no fewer than 4 times if I was alright. Today, I AM alright. It has been raining really hard for 3 days and today the wind is blowing hard. I am hoping for power outage so that I can go home and take a nap. Though I did get up an hour later than normal today because, apparently, I turned off my alarm. I am just lucky I always wake up and look at the clock at 8:05. For a few moments I contemplated calling in sick, but in the end I decided I needed money more than more sleep.

I love the wind. It makes me feel all invigorated to be out in it. Earlier I was standing out there and the wind caught the bun in my hair and it felt like someone was tugging it. It was odd and sort of great. Weather like this always makes me all tingly and wish I had someone to…tingle with.

The last couple of days, I have been watching the first season of the BBC show Dr. Who. Holy shit, I love it! I am mad for the 9th Dr., whom I just figured out only lasts until the end of season one. Sawb. I am assured that I will be mad for the 10th Dr as well.

I have had the urge to start writing again, lately. I have this story brewing in my head and it’s sort of been there for months. I worry that I wont do it justice. It has been many years since I wrote anything longer than a blog post. I used to write short stories all of the time. I feel like I need to get some more knowledge before I can write well though. I’ve been in this bubble of hermit that I am trying harder and harder to break out of. Also, I want to paint. I want to experiment with watercolours. I have been a horrible niece and have still not painting my aunt’s Christmas present. Horrible horrible! I need to do that. Just painting will help some of this residual shit in my head. Of course, when I am sad like that I don’t feel like writing or painting or crocheting, even though I have things I need to do and quickly. Time has been slipping away from me lately, though. Which is sort of very weird, because I am usually hyperaware of time. But lately, weeks can pass and I think it has just been a couple of days. It’s annoying and starting to get me into trouble.