Remember when I used to post several times a day on Facebook? Instagram? Read all the blogs?
Yeah okay probably not. But that’s just because vapid and shallow is the way of social media. There is a high turnover rate. Here one day and gone the next. It’s a flawed mentality, but it gets us by. It might even do us some measure of good. Who am I to judge that? (Remind me to consider this one day when I’m not busy considering something else.)
Whatever happened to that person, I don’t know. I just haven’t had much to say lately. Or much worth saying. It’s all good. There is plenty else to read. I just got to thinking about how lonely I was. It was just a way to stay in contact with other humans. Reach out. Connect. It served a purpose. I don’t regret it anymore then I can guarantee I won’t be that person again. I kinda hope I find a middle ground between writer’s block and writer’s vomit. But, I’m about as good at balance as I am brevity.
Which is to say, I’m not.
Not good at that shit at all, bitches.
Still, one can try. And I, being that particular one here, tried. A long fucking time. But I kinda got tired of trying. And now I’m sorta more so just into being. I need to do some being for a while.
Just being.
Fucked up. Hurt. Angry. Happy. Adventurous. Sad.
Really, really sad.
I’m that sad girl. Yeah, that one. You all know exactly what I mean. The one who writes and has been written about time and again but who no oh actually wants to be.
I need to find my footing. My roots have grown brittle. My limbs are tangled and twisted. My leaves look brown at best, I am sure. Or maybe yellowy, over hydrated by the Salty waterworks that drain from my eyeballs in the most humiliating way and at the most humiliating times.
One time I was sitting there on the bed with this guy and he was like you want me and you know it. And all I could think is that his face was so gross. And the words coming out of him seemed like the worst cologne I’d ever smelled. Like how could any human being on the planet want this?
But, I didn’t say that. I just shook my head because I knew my words would just get me into worse trouble.
Worse trouble. Who needs that, exactly?
Some times in life you realized you’re fucked. You know it. Just, there is no way out. None. No manner of words or use of fists or firsts forecasts is going to change what you have coming to you. And rationalization and revelation aren’t going to deliver you.
You just close your eyes and pretend to be someone else, somewhere else and hope that you’ll find yourself again when it’s over.
It all comes around again though. Because life is a circle.
PostpunkChronicles 