Emotions in the form of irrational tears, the build up of everything i couldnt hold in. I have never been good with controlling how I feel and now, especially now, I know that “it will be okay” doesn’t mean a thing unless you let it.
I feel sick, like I’ve done something wrong or committed a crime. Like it isn’t the right thing to just go after what you want and let that be that. That there is a map and a plan for this life and I was reading it all upsidown all along.
two hours ago, as i was cleaning my small closet where i keep some personal, random, and sometimes unnecessary stuff, i gathered up a small pile of bills and pieces of paper that had handwritten notes/ sketches by me that was meant to be thrown away. i then realized that i find it really hard to throw anything that has my handwriting on it. i found myself pulling those worn out papers, and folding them neatly and with great care. it felt as if these were actual pieces of me. my fingers are there, my brain, my breath. the thoughts i was thinking, my whole existence was there. and this, right here between my hands is a living proof. it’s so hard to let that go. i know they’ll eventually have to go and someone eventually has to do it. but for now, i’m keeping everything. i don’t know why or for whom, but for some reason, i know that i should.
sipping on jasmine green tea to remind myself that things will be okay. and that all i need to do is to calm down, concentrate and have a plan. and of course, stop cracking my knuckles and picking on my cuticles every second of the day.
i’ll be older even before i know it. it’s strange because it feels like i’d been 23 forever even though it hasn’t been a month yet. time runs fast. faster than dreams and, in my case, faster than the time it takes them to become reality.
i’m in a hazy phase in my life, in terms of time and space. in terms of tangible and intangible. i come to a start sometimes finding myself drifting away in a world i never thought myself welcome. i try so hard to remember who and what i was like 5 years ago. what i looked like. what i sounded and smelled like. what i thought of. i look back and i look forward. i daydream most of the time. and when i dream at night i dream of cigarettes and people i wish i were friends with.
i’m tired with myself. i’m tired with my uncertainties and with my weaknesses. i’m tired with my silence.
yes, i’m tired with my own silence.