Sep 9, 2022
Hugo Santiago
- Un siècle d'écrivains : Maurice Blanchot
1998
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Hugo Santiago
- Un siècle d'écrivains : Maurice Blanchot
1998
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I can't get over this essay: The Crane Wife.
I am wholly uncomfortable with how much I relate to it and equally convinced that I am not alone.
Transcribed: I need you to know: I hated that I needed more than this from him. There is nothing more humilating to me than my own desires. Nothing that makes me hate myself more than being burdensome and less than self-sufficient. I did not want to feel like the kind of nagging woman who might exist in a sit-com.
Transcribed: It turns out, if you want to save a species, you don't spend your time staring at the bird you want to save. You look at the things it relies on to live instead. You ask if there is enough to eat and drink. You ask if there is a safe place to sleep. Is there enough here to survive?
Autumns remind me of my end
To become the sound
Of crumbled leaves
Beneath the Beloved's feet.
Random Xpressions
I am officially giving myself a break.
My mind has been this seemingly constant mess of over-thoughts and judgmental, self-effacing assessments of myself. I keep reminding myself that I'm still stuck here, and it's beginning to be a bit of a drag.
I stopped for a minute tonight. Took a bath, read, spaced out, and got my room to warm up a bit. And I feel better already.
Today was really good. Not in an astounding way, but in a usual-but-also-more-than-usual sort of way. I feel loved and respected and maybe even kind of admired, and it feels so much better than how I've felt in the last few weeks.
So, I'm going to try to roll with this feeling. Tomorrow I get out of school earlier than usual, and I'm going to fill my extra time with movement, music, and calm. good night