(no subject)

I keep reading the same Edna St Vincent Millay poem over and over again. But I also got graphic novels out from the library, and am slowly conquering the stepmill thing at the gym. And I've learned I have abdominal muscles because they ache like hell.

I can't have all the things I crave. I can't be calm for a little while, and I need to just inhabit this anxiety and ride it. I told X that I was afraid my own sanity was a tiger I was riding, and that I lived in fear of falling off. But maybe that's a flawed image, or maybe the tiger doesn't actually care for the taste of me. I can't find or force the connections I want. Old Ani albums, tea, a book about curtains. Maybe this time around, I'll pick up the trick of self-soothing. Or at least get a giant tattoo.

It's days like these that I wish I had some sort of belief. Something other than words and human connection to put my faith in. But the only time I believe in anything is when it's to my own detriment, and that's no kind of faith at all. I want for a tradition to fall back on, something in me to remind me that there are states to be experienced other than this bad and worse.

I need to reimagine my future. I need to find someone to become, some subtler or stronger version of myself. I need to find a world in which I can look like I'm up to something more often, and not look quite so defeated. I need stompy boots and to use the dinosaur muffin pan my little brothers bought me. I need to find a way to swing my not insignificant will around to moving the fuck on. Or find a way to bridle my thoughts, turn them to something else, because these days it's often X and the talisman of multiplication tables only works for so long. And I will, someday, be defined by the presences rather than the absences.

Tonight, Legion with Chile, tomorrow awesome people, right now Jingle Bread from When Pigs Fly and a very demanding tortie.

(no subject)

I keep reading the same Edna St Vincent Millay poem over and over again. But I also got graphic novels out from the library, and am slowly conquering the stepmill thing at the gym. And I've learned I have abdominal muscles because they ache like hell.

I can't have all the things I crave. I can't be calm for a little while, and I need to just inhabit this anxiety and ride it. I told X that I was afraid my own sanity was a tiger I was riding, and that I lived in fear of falling off. But maybe that's a flawed image, or maybe the tiger doesn't actually care for the taste of me. I can't find or force the connections I want. Old Ani albums, tea, a book about curtains. Maybe this time around, I'll pick up the trick of self-soothing. Or at least get a giant tattoo.

It's days like these that I wish I had some sort of belief. Something other than words and human connection to put my faith in. But the only time I believe in anything is when it's to my own detriment, and that's no kind of faith at all. I want for a tradition to fall back on, something in me to remind me that there are states to be experienced other than this bad and worse.

I need to reimagine my future. I need to find someone to become, some subtler or stronger version of myself. I need to find a world in which I can look like I'm up to something more often, and not look quite so defeated. I need stompy boots and to use the dinosaur muffin pan my little brothers bought me. I need to find a way to swing my not insignificant will around to moving the fuck on. Or find a way to bridle my thoughts, turn them to something else, because these days it's often X and the talisman of multiplication tables only works for so long. And I will, someday, be defined by the presences rather than the absences.

Tonight, Legion with Chile, tomorrow awesome people, right now Jingle Bread from When Pigs Fly and a very demanding tortie.