I'm sad, I think.
I don't know. I have been trying to not care how I feel lately. Or at least not talk about it to anyone.
What does it matter?
In a certain sense, everyone seems to be doing shitty these days. It's just the times, you know. Things are tough all over.
So whenever I ask or someone asks me that all too familiar greeting ritual we do in America
"How are you?"
I know that both I and the hypothetical someone will say whatever thing we used to say but now with an asterisk.
"Doing well...all things considered."
This is just where we are. And it is what it is. I may have written on here before that when the pandemic first hit, I was kind of excited because the world had basically slowed down to my speed and seemed for the first time in a long time to be more manageable.
I can stay inside and socially distance like the best of 'em. Mother fucker, this is the shit I was born for.
And I think I have also written on here that those of us with "emotional problems" and "mental health issues" were the canary in the coal mine of the national mood. I swear we sensed this shit was coming.
And now it's here.
All of America is fucking depressed and on edge.
We all need a collective cigarette.
Or several dozen nationally synched orgasms.
It'll be like Hands Across America.
Except the hands will go different places.
We feel it collectively.
I feel it with every friend or relative I encounter.
And sigh, I have been holding space and listening and have been doing a fairly decent job of responding with patience and love and humility.
But I don't have that kind of outlet myself.
I don't have someone to talk to.
This might seem like arrogance or poor-martyr-starving-eccentric-artist-syndrome, but I feel like I am the type of person that understands other people well but am never myself understood.
I feel like if I could watch me from across the room for a while, watch how I interact with others and see how they respond, I might be able to get somewhere.
But I am too close to myself.
I never really know what's going on with me.
And others certainly don't.
I usually don't feel seen or heard.
Like when I am talking is just a time for them to pause and catch their breath.
Or there is always such negative energy
Or I get interrupted and talked over.
I don't know. I am just whining.
But sometimes, it would really be nice to have someone pay attention to me in a way that isn't harmful to me.
An attention that isn't needy or suffocating and without an ulterior agenda.
Just for someone to see that I am tired and in pain.
I want to be cared for.
Held.
Made to feel valuable.
Cherished.
But that is too much to ask for in this hellscape we live in now.
Fuck me. I just want a little break in all this tension.
I want to align my body to the contour of another's.
I want to be fucked until the world disappears.
Or fuck, make the world actually disappear. That'd be cool too.
10:43 p.m. - 2020-08-01
Recent entries:
Bitter - 2020-10-16
Day to Day - 2020-10-13
168 - 2020-08-08
Feelings - 2020-08-06
Two Posts in as Many Days? I Must be on a Spree or Something. - 2020-08-03
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