FUCK YEAH.Surprisingly I don't have any psychoanalytic shit today except to say I think this will go far.
Why am I swearing so much? I think I just feel passionate.
Something is very wrong with me. I don't know what it is but I am distinctly different than this time last month. I think my head is catching up with the change but my heart isn't and I feel like I'm living recklessly.
I am so in love with the fact that my favorite thing to do these days is think.
I kissed a lot of people this weekend. Not the people I wanted to, and not the people I should have been. I didn't drink a lot, and maybe I should have. Maybe that would have made it easier.
Legs look a lot like tree trunks.
I can't motivate myself to say what I want to in a way that makes sense or means something. Facts are facts and I think we should leave it at that. But it's human nature to judge. When I say I don't know I don't actually mean that. I do know, and I know that things are too complicated to put in such a small box. I've said this before and I still think it's true.
I suspect I only like him because he reminds me of someone else I used to know. Which is kind of troubling but I'm not going to do anything about it. And so I'm back on the same emotional roller coaster. I don't know why I do this to myself. I guess it's kind of fun. I don't know.
Throughout all this, I cannot shake the image that I'm standing at a bus stop, alone, while bus after bus carrying all my friends go by. They are waving. My inital reaction is that of panic and hurt as I feel I've missed something. The feeling of being stranded closes in. But then I feel guilty about my selfishness and I am happy for them. Almost. And then I start doubting myself and I ask whether I really wanted to be on that bus in the first place. Do I want to be where it's going? This is where I comfort myself. But then I realise that the destination doesn't matter. Its the fact that they are moving. And at some point I have to give up control and accept that there are no guarantees and that's just the way things are.
My name is Heather Adams. I danced myself right out the womb. I have long hair. Someday I will cut it. I am terrified of elevators. Sometimes I laugh at people who cannot open the back doors of the bus. I am a vegetarian. I suspect that someday I will eat meat. I wish I was taller. I wish I was more funny. I wish I could hold onto people the way others seem to do. But instead I feel my fingers constantly slipping and when I look down, my hands are empty.
What gets me is those things, the stuff you can't wreck or sterilize. It just floats around unsolved, without a specific place to be and you don't know what to do with it. To put it away would be too hard and leaving it out is too painful. So instead you just leave it. You do nothing. Then you look back months later and find that sometimes it has put itself away. And sometimes not in the place you were initially inclined to keep it. And sometimes it hasn't moved. But by far the worst is when you believe it to be safe and put away and out of nowhere it jumps out and hits you in the face. And you still don't know what to do with it and it hurts just as much when the catalyst of time hasn't worked. So what do you do?
I'm sorry to say that it has descended into the level of ugliness. I got a text message late last night saying "I'm glad I found out what kind of person you really are," and more shit about how I'm such a horrible person and don't know anything and am so immature.
First of all, I am aware that it sounds like I am a complete tool when I say: