here now

I'm so close to vomiting. Not sure if it's intuition or just fear. Feels like a break up is imminent. I'm terrified.

The last time I wrote something here was more than 4 years ago. I am back to being a wreck. I've always been a wreck. I don't even know why. I know that when I feel like crap, it's usually a deep deep deep unhappiness. I feel like a ghoul sometimes, floating through life, a scream waiting to erupt out of me, the living fascinated and afraid of me. I feel like I am dead, and a part of me is dead forever, it'll never resuscitate. A part of me feels like burning, burning it all, burning it all to the ground and never reviving. I want to collapse into a furnace of fury and pain and crumble into ash, unfeeling, inanimate ash. Why do I have these feelings? Unhappiness? Maybe. Resentment? Sure. Or maybe I am just so good at performing that in reality, what lives in me is chaos, unbridled chaos waiting to burst and burn everything in its path. Wanting to hurt everyone, regardless of who, but especially those who never see me for me. Who want me to keep performing. Who want an idea of me.

it leaves a bad taste in my mouth when I think hey maybe it doesn’t matter to you anyway and how minds change in a minute or 2.

Learning love in different languages now -  In silence, in space, in stillness; In self-sustenance, self-soothing solitude, Longing is less scary now - Its less like loss than before; less like losing a lover as she  leans out, slips into the shadow self, less like rationing silvers of love as I  learn to limit my sweetness. Love confuses me and has no rhyme nor reason nor structure. Lovers do what they do, and I forgot how to. Loving was never a box but a space uninhibited and flowing and unending, limitless possibilities all dancing, singing, laughing in derision of sense and time. Isn't it funny how we find our way to each other? I forget how I always long for a structure when all I crave is unstructured joy in another, is desire overflowing without needing a name. I flow endlessly in my stream, streams that join in rivers and then the ocean, back out into individual streams again. I missed this, this loss of structure, this newness, creating in unfamiliarity without right of wrong. I miss words flowing carelessly. I miss -