![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omnia_mutanturt minus ten days.
i'm not a particularly...um...full-of-faith person. in anything. including astrology.
but would it make a sort of perfect sense to know that my ability to communicate was being fucked with. i feel like talking is like pushing something through a sieve, energy-intensive, and what comes out on the otherside resembles what it began as in some basic sense, without maintaining any coherency. my therapist, light, history, my coworkers, everyone (with one notable exception) seems to hear some different thing than i meant to say, and vice versa. eggshells and razorblades, and i'm so tense i feel like i'm going to shatter in a million directions.
sad to say, but i really want a drink. and this noon to midnight bullshit doesn't look so pretty right about now. restless,restless,restless, and sex helps for a little bit, but unless i'm planning on staying home and turbating nonstop for the next howeverlong, that's not a terribly viable (or physically comfortable) solution.
and i also apparently have issues regarding my cat much like the ones i have regarding my defensiveness of my little brothers.
i want to pick a fight in the worst way. the desire feels like a storm is coming. i briefly mentioned the idea of quantifiable affection, and i wonder if there's always going be that undercurrent for me, some combination of damaged ideas of self-worth, and the unusual way our relationship began. i'm not sure what i want him to say, it's sort of an unavoidable truth, as far as i can tell. but i'm still so raw, so fucking black and white about all of this that i've only managed to find two ways to be, closed tight or wide open, and if i let myself withdraw that little bit, go to a place where is lack of enthusiasm doesn't feel like swallowing gravel, then i'm afraid i'll withdraw all the way and there won't be any joy left, either.
i'm not a particularly...um...full-of-faith person. in anything. including astrology.
but would it make a sort of perfect sense to know that my ability to communicate was being fucked with. i feel like talking is like pushing something through a sieve, energy-intensive, and what comes out on the otherside resembles what it began as in some basic sense, without maintaining any coherency. my therapist, light, history, my coworkers, everyone (with one notable exception) seems to hear some different thing than i meant to say, and vice versa. eggshells and razorblades, and i'm so tense i feel like i'm going to shatter in a million directions.
sad to say, but i really want a drink. and this noon to midnight bullshit doesn't look so pretty right about now. restless,restless,restless, and sex helps for a little bit, but unless i'm planning on staying home and turbating nonstop for the next howeverlong, that's not a terribly viable (or physically comfortable) solution.
and i also apparently have issues regarding my cat much like the ones i have regarding my defensiveness of my little brothers.
i want to pick a fight in the worst way. the desire feels like a storm is coming. i briefly mentioned the idea of quantifiable affection, and i wonder if there's always going be that undercurrent for me, some combination of damaged ideas of self-worth, and the unusual way our relationship began. i'm not sure what i want him to say, it's sort of an unavoidable truth, as far as i can tell. but i'm still so raw, so fucking black and white about all of this that i've only managed to find two ways to be, closed tight or wide open, and if i let myself withdraw that little bit, go to a place where is lack of enthusiasm doesn't feel like swallowing gravel, then i'm afraid i'll withdraw all the way and there won't be any joy left, either.
