Monthly Archives: October 2013

FUCK FUCK FUCK AWKWARD

This shit has control over me!

No matter how “above it all” I may think of myself, there’s that little, thing that I completely surrender to!

How can I keep it up with all the kipping, Turkish get up, back squatting, cleans, and jerks action???????

How in the fuckin’ world can I possibly keep I up?

I M P O S S I B L E

This is a true testament to “self hate”, and I am completely ashamed of it!

Where is the girl with all her high self-esteem, cockiness, hard-assness…assertiveness…health?

It doesn’t matter! I am fuckin’ shit! So angry right now!

Where are you, little while pill?

Certainly, the purple liquid is not helping me right now…maybe it’s helping me numb myself in this very moment…

Man! All the imperfections, in a sea of unbelievable awesomeness, are coming alive right now…I want to cry right now, but just as hard as I try to compress my eyelids, there’s nothing coming out!

I’m so disappointed!

I am probably very angry…angry at something I haven’t identified yet.

The cement-smokey-bitter-like after taste in my buds are a clear reminder of my weakness and utter shittiness.

I feel lost…and yes…it could be the entire bottle of fermented goodness that I have managed to ingest (and continue to), but there’s got to be some underlying shit going on here.

What THE fuck is it?

I welcome the idea of meeting this elusive “reason” for my uneasiness. And yet…it has declined my invitation…like so many other things…

I am awkward. I can’t seamlessly insert myself into anything. Well, I can…but what a fuckin’ effort it is!

Why do I project so much? So many questions, and so much misunderstanding…

I am feeling…for once in my life…(and really fighting to admit to it)…alone…not lonely…just alone…which is so untrue…but it doesn’t matter what the reality is…it matters only what my reality is.

so fuck you!

 


Nostalgia…I like you…no wait! I don’t like you…huh?

It’s Fall in New England. The trees are metamorphosing into chameleons with their happy and bright shades of orange, yellow, brown, red, and pigments that span the palette of the most brilliantly nostalgic painters.

Ah…that word! Nostalgia!

I paused for a second here to finally put a word definition to this comforting sense of happiness and placid state of uneasiness.

“Nostalgia: nä-ˈstal-jə, nə- also nȯ-, nō-; nə-ˈstäl-\

pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing that you could experience it again.”

No! Verbal communication does not do justice to these lingering emotions.

I’m not even sure why I’m writing about this. There is a “deflatingness” to my words right now! A certain disconnect between my brain and hands exist which is preventing me from continuing to write. My head hurts a little. In fact, I’m fighting really hard, with a soft face, not to let that one teardrop descend my cheek.

My jaw hurts as if I’ve been grinding my teeth for hours on end. I run to the mirror expecting to see a grumpy-looking face and am surprised with the peacefulness of the eyes looking back at me and the smiling facial muscles.

My neck feels as if somebody has been consistently trying to constrict my breathing, for machiavellian experimental purposes (“Oh hey! Let’s see how long she can go with this knot feeling in her throat. She seems tough.” said the invisible hands). And yet again, I am surprised to find no such sadistic hands on my throat…to the contrary, the air flows in a pranayama fashion.

The crispy bright blue sky, and the whispering wind blowing through the colorful trees, sweep the leaves away in a graceful dance. And the music…oh so soothing with its perfect harmonies. All of this, while being gently caressed by the existence of all that’s around me.

Oooh sorry! I fell into a slumber. I’m awake again.

That annoying tension headache! Let go of my fucking neck already!

The longing, and its inevitable cascading emotions.

I am longing for so many things…there it is again! That knot in my throat.

I don’t actually long for too many things. Only a few ones that completely escape my control and render me helpless. Helpless, but not hopeless. The little I can do, is being done.

<I’m moving in my chair trying to find that perfect position, touching my face trying to remove that strand of hair that is not really there, shaking my head, thinking, quietly breathing, while observing the people around me…>

Nostalgia…

I am sorry “words”, but you have done no justice to my simultaneously complex and simple friend “nostalgia”.

For now, I’ll choose to just feel.