I have a cold that is making my head feel 10 pounds heavier than it really is, and the Netti Pot is not working it's usual miracles because the snot is so fucking compact and hidden in sinuses I didn't even know existed. But I feel pretty good. On Sunday I listened to Only Skin, which is not significant really, except for that the song is an epic length, with the prettiest lyrics, the saddest story, and holds an association with a sadder time in my head. I am not there, but I am getting there. I was never expecting it to take a year, and even now, after I think I am all better, reflecting upon it is like being punched in the guts, then in the heart, then in the eyes. The other day I was going to the post office thinking "two years ago around this time I was sending a care package, attempting to light a fire." I was stuck on hibernation, which I found for a while, a disillusioned sleep, I missed a lot of things, a lot of things I would rather not have. I've been having dreams about being in love with strangers and it is a relief. I didn't know I was capable of such epic self-disasters, I swear I was clawing my heart out with my finely decorated fingernails all summer long. So, i was listening to only skin, dancing, marveling at that squeaky voiced genius/tearing up at all the parts I pretend describe my situation at one time perfectly.
I watched 500 days of Summer, and it just made me angry, because despite not believing in marriage, and not even really believing in people loving each other for always, I want it to be that way and I want "true love" or something along those lines to exist, because it would make my life a lot easier. I am terrified of physical affection, and I am a "relationship" person in all aspects of life, I don't like to half-ass things, even though that is what is best sometimes. I am not good at being 19. or 20. or 21. or 22. maybe 23. Speaking of half-assing, i am going to half-ass this conversation, and go make some tea, find some food, and nurse my cold, mostly because I have already said too much about myself, and I am not in the mood to articulate, or make it poetic, so it is just becoming embarrassing. I want love love love no hurtsies, always. It seems silly to love things, and hurt them and be hurt by them. It doesn't make any logical sense to me, but it seems to be inevitable anyways, so I am struggling to decide whether or not I'd rather stay here, where I am, or maybe someday try again. If i could take everything a little more lightly, I would be a much saner person.
I wish I could say the things I mean without sounding melo-dramatic, though I have a feeling that the fact I sound melo-dramatic when I write is hinting that I may, in fact, just be melo-dramatic. Frightening.