I can feel that familiar sink of the heart, the kind that pulls down behind the third row of ribs, dragging in the collar bone, creating that unnatural arch right behind the shoulders, putting a pressure on the diaphragm that makes it harder to hold in your gut. An ambitious person still tries to hold their head up, making a squeezing curve of the neck vertebrae and they strain, not sit, on the top of the shoulders. The tension on the back of the neck makes it hard to read, and eventually as the muscles exhaust, a constant pressure on the back of the temples like someone has their hand on the back of your head, thumb under the right ear, 4 fingers wrapped around the left, gripping tight and leaning in.
My ex texted today. He is stuck in California. I worry about his parents, and I was planning to call them. My boyfriend doesn’t understand why, but it just shows that underneath all of the flash and show, he doesn’t really know what it’s like to truly care about people. He would never call his ex, and I can see now that that’s what this dream was about (or at least what I’ve made it about now). I’m enjoying this exercise immensely, but I wish I didn’t dream about other people so much. I actually hate Coldplay, but someone we, My ex and I, both loved loved them so much. I wish I had more dreams about her. I miss her so much. I have to realize that there are several reasons that we, My ex and I, can never get back the life that we had together, at least not any of the good parts.
This space is supposed to be about me, not the array of people that float in and out of my life. They are arranged interestingly, but that’s what I do. Place people in patterns and revel in the chaotic beauty. It’s cruel, but I swear it’s harmless. Humans are meant to handle so much more hardship than a broken heart or some hurt pride. It honestly hurts *me* that this is truly so inconsequential.
Finding apartments is tough for me. I still haven’t come clean (lol) about work, I don’t care and no one cares. I have no verifiable employment, and my credit is non-existent. I also have never in my life had only one job, I just wake up each morning (aside from during this mental health break that is fraying apart at the end) and see what I can do to make the most money. I don’t know why people are always so puzzled by that. I always pay.
Ironically, my brother and I are talking about fish. My dream makes sense in a prophetic sense now. So much sense and too much sense. I think he misses our house too, as a matter of fact I know he does. Thinking about him hurts me so much constantly, how did we let this happen to us? I know he feels terrible, and knows that he’s causing us pain, and I know he just wants to be out of this world to stop hurting everyone around him by just being there. I know the feeling, but I know he knows it better. I don’t want to make him sad and talk about it, but I do desperately want to tell him that he’s absolutely all I’ve got, and never to even think about leaving me here alone. Ever. I want to tell him it will get better but it probably won’t. I don’t want him to leave because I am selfish.
He’s a real person, and our interactions are real. I, honestly, completely forgot what that feels like. It totally hit me like a ton of bricks and knocked the wind out of me and whatever human allusions can be made to just blowing my fucking mind and leaving me absolutely blank, clueless and scrambling. It has been 3 almost 4 months of fucking this guy before I could figure out what’s going on here. Now I just can’t figure out why I couldn’t figure it out sooner, and why I couldn’t find it anywhere else.
I for some reason feel like I have to sprinkle this blog with clues as to my real identity, there’s so much that I feel like people would recognize about me. However, I know they won’t. Not only would no one who knows me ever read this, but no one who “knows” me would recognize any of those things, because they don’t really know me. I wonder what I must look like to all of them, just a mouth open with barely recognizable words coming out. Even if I wrote here verbatim what I literally just hung up the phone from saying to them, they wouldn’t put two and two together and realize that yes, this is me. I wonder what that says about them, are they idiots? Underneath that, I wonder what that says about me, and that’s so sad.
I’m an adult, and moreover I’ve been on this rollercoaster before. I should have known better than to get on, and right now I should know enough to get off. I owe some people apologies that I know they will not expect or accept <=== this domain, which I picked at random because it was a word (and eulo.gy was taken) begins to make sense.
I feel guilty that I cancelled work. There have been times where I have been so desperate for that money, to turn it down for no reason other than an amorphous existential crisis feels like a betrayal to my younger, broke self. And I don’t feel wrong about feeling that way.
When I was working, I did not save enough time to have a self. I threw myself wholeheartedly into my work, which is why I was so good at it. I notice that I’m speaking in past tense. I still feel like I’m going to quit, but I also know that I’m not going to. I just can’t seem to find a way to hold on to myself, and the other things that I want to do. I’m conflicted – even during my medical leave, with all the time in the world, I still have not managed to get anything done. So honestly, what is the point of quitting my job? I have a lifestyle to maintain, and financial goals that I was getting close to.