winter cleaning 1
Sometimes I get stuck in this waking coma. Or choose to at least. Prolonged days of passivity. Glue my eyes onto the computer screen and not even pay any attention to what's happening. Whatever video's playing is a wall for me, so that I can live in my head. Wall of a house, a castle, a whatever. Looks impenetrable but really it's just
white noise like a fog which comfortably blankets my daydreaming.
Hard to talk about it. Feels mad. Unreal. Brain rationalizes it somehow, and enough days of that, the rationalizations doesn't seem like rationalizations. Just that it was always the way it is. Your true self. This is it.
I get scared when I'm doing good. These brief moments of clarity. And it's the only way I can talk about it now really.
Trying to pinpoint why I'm afraid of these good days.
It's the fall really. Push the rock up so far. The fall's inevitable, it's going to happen, you can't stop it. Then you sink back.
The amount of times I've tried and failed and tried again. To stay here in these moments of clarity. God, it's a lot.
Earlier, I looked at my flower-patterned blanket hanging off the railing. Just stared at it. The side I was looking at was shadowed. A thought creeped up. That this wasn't going to last.
Nothing really does. I get sad when I'm happy because I know it'll end. I don't like my birthday cause when you're going to bed, you don't want to let go. This special day. But still you move on. And the day after, nothing really changes.
I stopped counting when I turned 21. My brain takes a second to remember I'm 22. I'm 22.
Trying not to think too hard about things anymore. Trying to let go more often.
I remember in those moments of happiness, with friends or family. I'd burn the image in my head. Like in a video call with my parents. I'd focus intensely. Taking a picture of every wrinkle and every white hair and every crease of what makes my dad my dad. Cause I know one day, he won't be here anymore. Appreciating what I have now, all I can do really.
The funny thing is, when I look back at those images I branded on my skull in the future, it'd feel like a dream. My brain would've added some extra details or took some away. But the feeling would still be there I reckon. A sliver at least.