my first day of kindergarten I peed in my red tights. this image is very clear to me because 1) my tights were red and very, very memorable, and 2) I held it for so long I’m sure the physical pain that comes from such activity crossed over into emotional pain and created some kind of scar on my psyche.
I also couldn’t open my lunchbox. my whole first day of entering society as a normal human being just screamed FAILURE. I failed at understanding the mechanism and technology that is a lunchbox, and i failed at keeping my pee out of the carpet.
this is how I entered life.. but is it my destiny?
Everything's been so much bigger lately. Like I have so much to do and say and like I am feeling everything the way I should be feeling it. Usually I am weak and at least slightly disconnected, in the way that I feel like I am trying to get something but I can't quite reach it. This won't last, but it doesn't make me sad. I have come to understand and accept the ebb and flow of my own personality and more importantly of my feelings. I can recognize when something I think or feel has importance and when it doesn't. I think that just happens for everyone as they get older. It's still fascinating to me though.
As far as plans go, I am excited to say that I seem to be following through a little better lately. I got in touch my great aunt and asked her if she would be willing to teach me how to sew. She said yes and I have my first lesson next Sunday! Now we'll see if I actually enjoy doing it.
I also applied for re-enrollment at UNCW so I can try the whole college thing again, hah. Also iffy about that. But it's something I feel like I need to do for myself, and it'll be good for me, even if I don't come out of it in any way well-educated.
Brittany: Yeah, and I'll probably like it.
Everyone pretended like it was all good and nothing had changed, I was their daughter and they loved me no matter what. Now that I want to bring my girlfriend over for Thanksgiving (otherwise she'll be home alone), everybody's freaking out and acting like assholes.
I can understand if I was doing something that hurt them, or made them suffer in any way (other than the 'oh I'm so embarrassed to tell anyone my child is gay' way), but they are just freaked out because they can't possibly understand how I can be attracted to someone of the same sex. Who. fucking. cares.
I'm so tired of my parents pretending that their opinions are so much more important than everyone else's because they've been through a lot and have dealt with a lot of things that normal, everyday people don't have to deal with. I get it. I wish those things hadn't happened to them. I wish their lives had been easier, not only so they wouldn't have suffered but also so they wouldn't be such righteous, arrogant fuckers.
If they don't learn to deal with this in at least a sympathetic way, I foresee very serious problems in our future.
I love people. I love how they try and how sometimes, even when they're bad, they can be so good. And I love how they make mistakes and fix them. Or if they can't fix them they work hard to make things better and become stronger. I love the change you see in people. I am constantly in awe of those who are strong and powerful. I have a thing for strength. I have a thing for seeing people rise above. When I find any of these things I watch or listen and I just feel like I am opening up to something bigger than myself, and better. Something true and sad and very, very beautiful.
I have Brittany, most importantly. She is sweet and good and everything I could ever hope for. She makes me feel important and like she truly loves me, which is hard for me to feel most of the time. She cares about what I think and what I am doing and how I feel. Plus she's really cute and weird and I love that. I love her.
Then there are these cats which are really ugly and not fluffy at all or cuddly or anything like that. Except not really because they are perfect. And my friends...Jessica, Sullivan, Jordan. I wish David too but we don't talk much anymore. At least I know I have him if I really need him.
I am lucky that I actually like my job, that I don't absolutely hate going there, and that the people I work with are very, very pleasant.
I have my family too, which sometimes (ahem, now) isn't so supportive, but mostly is so amazing and so strong and even fun.
And I have the knowledge that I am alive and healthy and I have the power to change anything that is hurting me or making me weak. Life isn't so bad. I have always known this but sometimes it is easy to forget.
I have no friends! It's slightly depressing!
did you feel me?
I tasted you, worn and dreaming,
warm and beating,
before you ever really knew.
and in time
I have swallowed the whole of you,
the curves and lines of you,
lovely like a word.
My brain is all fuzzy and buzzing with thoughts, words, images, tiny little spurts of feelings remembered...
I just read, and do not quote me on this, something that said somewhere along the lines of it kind of went like this: if you can't create, you go crazy.
I think, I think that is what is happening. I don't create. I stand and I sit and I move and feel but nothing comes out so it flings around everywhere in my brain and all those little pieces bump into each other and it hurts sometimes, physically too but mostly emotionally. I feel tired and a little like I keep forgetting the same thing over and over and over again.
What do I do?
Send me a camera or money to take a sewing class or just some fucking focus. But Jesus Christ, lord in heaven I definitely can't do this forever or I'll die before I really should.