Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Warning: Navel-gazing in excess. The mopey sort, shoo.

I wish I could be happy, but I can't. I wish I didn't crave reassurance, but I do. I wish I didn't constantly find myself with my forehead already scrunched up, but there it is.
The only thing that makes me consistently happy, it seems- the only thing that has me going about everyday like an idiotic puppy- is impractical, inaccessible, transient, and unsustainable.

I find it hard to believe people, things, feelings, relationships. Every so often I catch myself going, "seriously, this is real?" in my head. Most of the time I cocoon this disbelief in routine, tell myself it's completely usual and not out-of-the-ordinary in the least. Defeat incredulity by reducing things, or at least normalizing them to the mundane. Maybe then I'll ground myself, and stop feeling like this is inevitably going to slip away, like it's half-unreal already.
I'm not sure why exactly there is this need to downplay things, but there it is. As soon as something happens, something awesome, there is a knee-jerk reaction to making it feel completely normal, instead of reveling in it. Is it about being cool? "Oh this doesn't faze me 'cuz I'm awesome"- who knows?
Life could be simple, it could. I feel empty. When I was little, I would wish I was a different person, with different problems and less of a destructive whirlpool for a brain. I would go to my tuition teacher's house and look at the brightly coloured family, eating pakoras and smiling big apple-cheeked smiles, and I would feel like an anomaly.
I was not made for distances, or the cold. Or stress. These are all things that I have embraced on my own. At the time I thought they'd take me somewhere better, at the time I thought it wasn't a tantrum. Most of the time, I still do. Part of the time, I drop the compulsion to look happy with my life, and act like a normal human being, and stare into this foggy path that is the future. I have no idea. I have no effing clue. What do I want? If only, I knew.
I cannot find my ambition anymore; all I feel is weary. All I want to do is let go, and rest my head on a shoulder for a while, without feeling guilty about being unproductive. I cannot remember the last time I did that- not for the last 3 years, at least. My wants are changing, my desires are changing, my plans are becoming less clear. I'm not entirely certain at this point whether this is weakness, and me being pathetic, or tiredness and me being weary, or simply me growing up. The thing is, I hadn't taken emotions into account.

What is this about? Far too many things, all of which are a tangle in my head, and a knot in my stomach. What am I going to do about it, you ask? Well, right now, I'm going to procrastinate on my lab and a couple of calm-upsetting emails, and go make some chicken-noodle soup.

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