4.14.18 | 'tis the lonely hour
It's 1:34 am.
I hate it when I feel compelled to announce the time of which I am writing a post, as if it is significant, but perhaps it is... at least, this time it feels relevant.
For it is the lonely hour - the infamous hour in which I feel that I am the only human in the world, despite the fact that my roommate and a friend are sleeping in a bed mere feet away from me and my trusty companion, my laptop. I wish I could say that I'm dramatically writing this in loopy handwriting in my notebook that I'm determined to fill, but alas, typing just feels like a more rhythmic, cathartic way to express my feelings.
Yesterday felt weird, in one of the worst, most familiar ways possible - the inevitable crash that comes after riding for too long on the shaky waves of my subconscious. I felt oddly out of my body, as if I were a ghost floating above the sidewalk leading to the dining hall, even worse navigating the labyrinth of tables with a sparse plate of food.
"I noticed that you were distant."
I wish I could explain this better, I wish there was any living soul that feels this way sometimes. I've felt it before, simply as "weird" and "fuzzy," like I'm underwater. I struggle to maintain conversations, everything feels too loud and yet not loud enough, there is paranoia racing through my veins, present in quick, nervous glances all around. I am seared with the inclination to sink into whatever furniture I'm occupying, to slip beneath the surface, down through the floorboards, until I'm buried in the ground, the only solace I'll ever know.
It finally felt like spring, so I was confused as to why I was feeling like this. This season is the reason for the chemicals in my brain to finally cooperate, possibly the only season I actively look forward to. It's my aesthetic, my ideal time. If I could live in an eternal spring where the flowers are in a constant state of blooming and there's a light breeze all the time, I surely would. If such a place exists, let me know.
It's 2:25 am as I finish this.
I have the overwhelming desire to live, but I'm not sure how to anymore.
I hate it when I feel compelled to announce the time of which I am writing a post, as if it is significant, but perhaps it is... at least, this time it feels relevant.
For it is the lonely hour - the infamous hour in which I feel that I am the only human in the world, despite the fact that my roommate and a friend are sleeping in a bed mere feet away from me and my trusty companion, my laptop. I wish I could say that I'm dramatically writing this in loopy handwriting in my notebook that I'm determined to fill, but alas, typing just feels like a more rhythmic, cathartic way to express my feelings.
Yesterday felt weird, in one of the worst, most familiar ways possible - the inevitable crash that comes after riding for too long on the shaky waves of my subconscious. I felt oddly out of my body, as if I were a ghost floating above the sidewalk leading to the dining hall, even worse navigating the labyrinth of tables with a sparse plate of food.
"I noticed that you were distant."
I wish I could explain this better, I wish there was any living soul that feels this way sometimes. I've felt it before, simply as "weird" and "fuzzy," like I'm underwater. I struggle to maintain conversations, everything feels too loud and yet not loud enough, there is paranoia racing through my veins, present in quick, nervous glances all around. I am seared with the inclination to sink into whatever furniture I'm occupying, to slip beneath the surface, down through the floorboards, until I'm buried in the ground, the only solace I'll ever know.
It finally felt like spring, so I was confused as to why I was feeling like this. This season is the reason for the chemicals in my brain to finally cooperate, possibly the only season I actively look forward to. It's my aesthetic, my ideal time. If I could live in an eternal spring where the flowers are in a constant state of blooming and there's a light breeze all the time, I surely would. If such a place exists, let me know.
It's 2:25 am as I finish this.
I have the overwhelming desire to live, but I'm not sure how to anymore.
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