I find sometimes I am a swirling maelstrom of neuroses. My paranoid, overthinking tendencies take on the crushing quality of a tidal wave, and the gasps of clarity I intake are short lived as the rushing waters of insecurity fill my lungs once more. It’s as though I can see myself being out of control but I can’t stop the storm from raging. I am a spinning top teetering dangerously close to toppling but somehow still careening.
“I just want to be happy” I declared to my friend in the dark last night as sleep threatened to overtake. I immediately felt guilty for forcing her to bear witness to my undoing (again). Can’t I just decide to be a functioning human? Why are the circles I’m tracing around the concept of normality growing wider? When will they narrow?
Sometimes I want to change my name and run away. Fake my own death or something of the like. Sometimes I want to throw my phone and computer into a lake. Sometimes I want to escape the confines of these bones for a little while. Just take a roam- feel what it’s like to live formless.
I cried in the cinema watching Call Me By Your Name last night.
“Is it better to speak or to die?”
I don’t know.
I turned 23 last week and I’ve never felt so averse to aging. I look in the mirror and see no trace of the eighteen year old I feel I was barely a second ago. It’s been 5 years.
I read articles about trust issues. I over-analyze every interaction I play part in. Did I divulge too much? Was I too closed off? I discover the term Avoidant Personality Disorder and feel gloomy.
I listen to Pet Sounds in the dark. I cry to I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times. I think about Brian Wilson and cry some more.
I think about old loves and wonder if I’ll ever be able to be so vulnerable again. If cracking myself open and allowing myself to be devoured was just a novelty associated with my youth.
I wonder if everyone thinks this god damn much about the past.
“I just want to be happy.”
I remind myself that I am. I close my eyes and I think about tossing a football back and forth down the aisles of Walmart with Marina. I play our laughter on a loop. I think about happy hour at Earls in Bankers Hall with Asia. I think about my mum telling me about the deer in the yard over the phone, excited and bubbly. I think about Frank Valli. I listen to Beggin’ and December, 1963 and Walk Like a Man. I rewatch Frances Ha and dance alone in my room. I tell my friends I love them. I try to loosen up, smile more and judge less. I try not to be afraid of making new friends.
I remind myself that the presence of anxiety and sadness doesn’t mean the absence of joy.
I learn to let the light in.
until next time,