What lingered after them was not life, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.
Kirsten Dunst in Virgin Suicides, Sofia Coppola
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“Start over my darling. Be brave enough to find the life you want and courageous enough to chase it. Then start over and love yourself the way you were always meant to.”
— Madalyn Beck
Deeprak chopra told me
To go into my inner self and ask ‘me’ “what do I want,” and he said the accompanying feelings, sensations, etc would by answer.
Well, I feel a little bit like I’ve been scammed but at the same time, like I’m probably just scamming myself. I meditated for a few, and then began the asking.
Breathe in. Breathe out. “What do I want”
Is that what my voice sounds like? Not bad.
Breathe in. Dodge those swirling thoughts. Breathe out. “What do I want?”
I saw myself so perfect, or maybe it wasn’t me, but it was a woman, biting into some fruit. The fruit was super juicy. And you could only see the half of her face, as she was looking forward to probably someone else, happily. Almost, seductively. The backdrop was Paris. And the sky was bright tangerine orange. Almost like orange sherbet, but with less cream. Maybe a hue of pink instead of white. It was as perfect as a cartoon.
Breathe in. “What do I want?”
Breathe out.
Then I saw the word “hunger,” and I felt the word escape from my mouth.
Maybe to represent me now? Maybe to tell me of my fate if I don’t begin to pursue what I want?
Then I saw a woman. She was clinging to a stone wall, almost like a scene from that one really bad remade broadway play with Anne Hathaway? It was her I think. But she wasn’t singing.
Breathe in. Breathe out. “What do I want?”
I can only hear the bones of my apartment crack and crinkle. What do I want what do I want what do I want…
I want to write honestly. I want to be honest. I want to be courageous, and witty.
Wit can’t be learned. Right?
Can courage?
Honesty can .. I’ve been told thousands of times.
Ya know what. I’ll write.
Once a day in 2019
And at the end of the year, in November, I’ll enter some writing thing and see how well I do. I’ll see if I like doing this. Pouring out my damn heart on this blank space of whiteness.
Exhausted
I’ve had to see my family this entire winter break, back-to-back-to-back, and I honestly feel like it’s making me physically ill. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m mentally and emotionally drained more than I’ve been in the past year. I don’t like my family the most. It’s not happy for me to be around all of them so much. Why? Because they have never treated nicely. It’s always a certain type of passive aggressive or condescending aura amongst my mom or sister. Or it’s the “I’m the crazy, irresponsible one”— you know? There’s always that tinge to conversations. And with my brother “Papo” it’s always a certain hint of mean spirit that’s tossed at me. Guilt, annoyance. They never have just fucking loved me for who I am. They’ve never celebrated who I am, and what I am. Ever. It’s always been about success, and my sister and her health concerns or her success or how she plays second mom and how my parents hate it secretly but love it because then they’re allowed to do what they want. I hate coming home and having to spend time with them, and my moms side of the family. I hate being guilted into spending holidays with my moms brothers and sisters, when those people don’t respect women or me. They never have. They treated me awfully when I needed them the most and never apologized. I hate the fake and phoney. I hate how if I were to say actually I won’t be around for the holidays, I’d be guilted. Even though I’m 27 years old. Uh, yeah, mom? I’m not gonna grow up to be some traditional Mexican housewife. I will have my own life, apart for you and my nuclear family. I’m going to be the “cool aunt” who is exuberant and happy beyond belief because she always calls the shots of her life. And she loves openly and freely, away from the judgment of her nuclear family.
Sorry i I needed to get all of this out (or some of it) because I feel it festering in my chest and mind.
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