today, nov. 24th

FRIDAY, 16:21 – “I can’t keep going back and forth forever between grief and high delight” the quote came to mind when I grabbed my journal. I think it’s from Franny and Zooey. I went to the psychiatrist. What’s off about me has always been off, it all makes sense. I felt hopeful after, however sorrow made its way back to me, it always does. The old lady. “She comes from somewhere”, tattooed on my thigh, is but a euphemism for the harsh truth, it comes from me. I am my own beginning and that burden is mine to carry. My writing resides between me and the end. All of my endings, and they are so, so many. I try to begin again all of the time. My many and never-ending attempts at living. I rise and rise but I end and end. I am a hamster in a wheel, watching a projection of life before me. I try to grab it, it slips away.
I’m falling behind again. I’m all wrong and I don’t know how to go about it. The waves overcome me. I drown every time. I’ve got so much fight in me, but what is it worth? I know life will come again but the fight is gruesome, the wait feels wretched. The bitterness of looking so serene while gasping for air. My cries for help. I don’t think it’s possible not to feel alone, desperately so, in this tiresome state of mind. My own company is the only kind capable of filling the gap, and I can’t count on it. Mondays I come alive, liveliness becomes me, you should see it, but I hardly write when I’m busy with life. Thursdays I am fading, disappearing becomes me. Today is friday, I am nowhere to be found.