by Rie

Okay, bear with me. I’m in a weird place now – the ground’s unsteady and I’m afraid to move.

I’ve also replayed the lines “If our love’s tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity?” over and over again in my head.

I hate this. I hate hate hate this.

Not to say the song from which those words are taken is met by great loathing. I’m still pressing replay and everything.

But I hate what I’ve put myself into. I hate not knowing what I was, what I am, and what I will become. Granted, the future has always been unknown, but for even the past to be cloudy and fragmented doesn’t make for a bearable present.

That’s the thing I’m getting to: the present isn’t bearable.

I’ve also found that my great self-consciousness doesn’t mesh well with these feelings. The conscious, logical part of my brain demands an explanation for emotional outbursts that were once few and far between. I don’t have any answers. I just keep crying.

Which is ridiculous.

Rationally I should realise that such brooding will cost me far greater than what I have already lost. Can I afford to lose much more? Nope.

So, I’m trying to study (which I can’t), I’m working really, really hard to look happy (we’ve established that that comes with practice, yes?) and I’m fighting to be happy (which I’m not).

That’s what this post is for, I guess. It’s this sort of thread of thought that I need to unwind every now and again to remove tangles. I’m spooling this thread now but I don’t know what to do about the knots.

I promise I’ll be better next time. With pictures!

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