it is the first of october. i wrote something just a couple days ago. have i found inspiration again? have i freed myself from the chains that held me down before? how melodramatic, right? but how is it that i have this desire to just write, write every thought I have down, even though I'm not sure what they all are? i feel inspired. i feel the need. and even though i'm not sure what i want to say or what i even mean, this time i want to try...i will try.
hmm...where do i start? to be honest, i have no idea. so...well, i guess i'll just ramble...the balancing act is so hard...pouring water from the brita pitcher into a small one liter bottle, used, reused, over and over again. that is what i'm feeling like...a reused water bottle.
actually, i'm not feeling at all like a reused water bottle; i do not even feel like the culmination of all the empty reused water bottles lying around my room, ready to be recycled. i feel like me. like mary, a goofy, silly, dorky gal who can't seem to find what she's looking for and appears more jaded by the day but still believes in a love that will last forever despite her denial of happy endings; a sad introvert who seems to know a lot but really doesn't know anything at all...someone speaking on issues she has no right to be talking about. that is what i do...that is what i have always done...and why the hell do i? i help people? i can't help myself. i contaminate. i infect. i cower in fear. i cry with indecision. i am baffled by myself. i am chasing, playing catch-up, reaching, extending my fingers, barely touching and losing all in one grasp, falling behind, watching it fade away, stopping, seeing the uselessness of continuing.
i find the place where i belong once more, and i remember that it is a lonely place, i remember that it is cold, i remember that i am tired. i remember. its familiarity comforts me, the air surrounds me, and i remember. i am constantly losing and remembering.
