30 8 / 2014
What are we, but victims of games our own minds create for us?
I don’t understand how people get so trapped in the idea of fitting into society. What cut or brand of jeans they should buy or where to get what tattoo put - why would you be concerned about everyone else’s approval for this? Where does this need to please others come from? Why put total strangers opinions before your own?
29 8 / 2014
"And at the word ‘alone,’ Will felt a great wave of rage and despair moving outward from a place deep within him, as if his mind were an ocean some profound convulsion had disturbed. All his life he’d been alone, and now he must be alone again, and this infinitely precious blessing that had come to him must be taken away almost at once. He felt the wave build higher and steeper to darken the sky, he felt the crest tremble and begin to spill, he felt the great mass crashing down with the whole weight of the ocean behind it against the iron-bound coast of what had to be. And he found himself gasping and shaking and crying aloud with more anger and pain that he had ever felt in his life, and he found Lyra just as helpless in his arms."
24 8 / 2014
me: hi, can i have a large—
starbucks employee: you mean a venti?
me: can we not do this
23 8 / 2014
"Night time is really the best time to work. All the ideas are yours because everyone else is asleep."
23 8 / 2014
Three years ago, I was driving home and had to pull the over.
After abruptly leaving my first semester of college, I had spent months in an unrelenting and vicious depression. The world was only accessible through a dense layer of packing peanuts.
But as I drove, I felt as though my head were breaking through the surface of water. Everything was suddenly real: louder, brighter, and closer. I ran my fingers over and over the steering wheel as though I had never touched it before — had I really touched this before? The texture seemed so new.
But when people ask me when things got from very bad to tolerable bad, I tell them about driving home. (They actually ask “when did things get better?” — a question I despise because it insinuates that things are now better and your life is now on a permanent upswing— “so you’re happy now? great! you’re all better!”)
I just felt different for no particular reason. And I kept feeling different for no particular reason.
I experienced a similar event about two weeks ago.
My best friend April, when I asked her how to alleviate break up pain, told me, “You have to want to let go. I’m not saying everything is sunshine and rainbows after that, but you have to decide that you don’t want to hold on to that anymore. That’s not the same as letting go, but you do have to at least want to let it go.”
And I had no idea what she was talking about until a week later. I was driving. And though I had just spent hours face down in the dark, I suddenly felt okay. After a week of being totally unable to do anything — Epiphany: Things will be okay. You will be okay. You do not need people who abuse you. You are good enough. You will be okay.
My struggle at the moment is to not to doubt that light.
When you don’t often experience happiness, it becomes scary as hell. The logic? Surely, happiness will end. Then you will be worse off than you were before, in your packing peanuts, not admitting that you wanted it to begin with. You will realize afresh how miserable you are when the happiness gets taken away. And then the crippling strength of that realization will make you wish you weren’t happy to begin with. You will wish you never believed in the bullshit idea that things could get better. You will hate yourself for becoming soft: for doubting your worldview that Life is Awful and Then You Die. The voice in your head snarls, “Don’t think that you are on some upward trend. Your happiness could be taken away from you in a second.”
It’s difficult to suspend narrative formation. I want to be saved by another Random Moment Where Things Got Better. I’m writing about it as such, as another Moment Everything Changed. But I don’t know that everything has changed. What if the sadness, the ache, the despair that makes me want to die, comes back tomorrow?
I’m trying to be brave. Depression flares up and tries to kill you, but sometimes it lets you breathe. I can breathe right now, tonight. I am breathing.
I wanted to write about this tentative, scared-as-hell, maybe-fleeting-maybe-lasting hopefulness. And hope that some of you are feeling it, too.
Leaving a note for myself: hope hope hope hope hope.
19 8 / 2014
"Start ignoring people who threaten your joy.
Literally, ignore them.
Don’t invite any parts of them into your space."