I was going to write a post title ‘The Post-Mortem’. It’s still buried in drafts.The problem is that I can’t adequately understand what I’m going through. To do this, I am reading.
I’ve lost focus. I struggle to sit down and read properly now. My attention flicks from the book in my hands to the feeling in my feet and I find myself moving (with very little thought) toward something else. This isn’t very much fun.
It’s occurred to me, also, that I dislike myself greatly. It’s not really an epiphany; I’ve definitely written about this before. It’s just that I feel it very deeply now. Following this are the typical physiological changes I’ve described. It makes me feel even more deeply the ache in my metaphorical chest.
Part of the trouble is that I’m walking around in a circle. The posts on this blog haven’t changed much in content for the past two years. This troubles me. It surprises me less that change is a more common theme for those between teenage-dom and adulthood. It feels like things will be set in stone starting today or, if not today, tomorrow, so there’s this immediacy that I feel goes un-understood.
I feel like I’m just making words up now.
When I’m an adult, I wonder if I’ll forget this. Will I understand my present troubles at thirty? And, if I do, will I cast a sideways, mocking glance at others from my high horse? It terrifies me that this is likely.
I’ve jumped all over the place again. I’ll read this again tomorrow and try to derive some clarity from this slightly derailed train.
I’m sorry, future me. But I hope you’re a better person than you are now.