Today keep your head and drop the gun

I am doing really poorly today.

Maybe indulging myself in this digital purge isn’t healthy, but I don’t know how else to process my feelings and move on; the narrow confines of my mind just aren’t roomy enough to spread these thoughts and feelings out to beging to sort through them.

I went up to The City yesterday for work which was mostly good. But today I am tired and over-socialized and desperately wishing I had a higher threshhold for human interaction and stress. I think I did a good job of faking it and getting things done, but I am paying the price. All I want to do is sleep and listen to depressing-ass music and read…obviously not all at once.

The bite of failure and the sting of self-hatred that used to permeate every minute of every day are back, but I know that they are transient liars. I am worth more than my lows and tomorrow will be better; every day can’t be an on day so I won’t begrudge myself these hours of weakness. Besides, if today is the price I am paying for those few unexpected hours of pure happiness last week, it is a trade off I can accept.

Alas, I must shake this off.

There are books to read and cats to cuddle and a hopeless crush to steal longing glances at and concerts to attend: I will not feel like this forever. I will sleep away this fog of disappointment in myself and tomorrow upon waking, the sparkle of life will have returned to my eyes in earnest and I will wake up glad to face the day.

This is real, but it isn’t permanent.

If there’s something you’d like to try, ask me, I won’t say no. How could I?

I have been…slacking, both in updating and in following my prescribed course of action for myself. I’d explain my reasons for lapsing, but I don’t think they’re important; progress isn’t made by standing explaining away shortcomings. I am going to do (yet another) reset and repeat of the week I planned out for myself a week or two ago.

The aforementioned failures aside, things have been going okay. I have been devouring books of varying levels of literary merit at a breakneck speed recently; last Sunday alone I polished off three whole books. It’s been really nice to escape into reading again. I remember why this was such a major part of my life during those wonderful years between 21 and 24. I’ve also ditched my once-prominent book snobbery and have consequently been allowing myself to read some YA fiction and I’ve actually really enjoyed it. (I am currently reading and loving Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard.) In retrospect, it was stupid to bar myself from reading books that sounded  interesting to me based on arbitrary, age-based categorizations.

In general, life news, I have been a little bolder lately: I’ve been giving myself permission to feel and do new and scary things without try to insert logic to shut things down that seem statisically likely to have the potential for negative consequences (within reason, obviously). It’s been nice to just fucking let myself be without worrying about disaster or rejection lurking around every corner.

Here’s to daydreams without regret and night-drives without GPS!