This is absolutely the last thing I need to be writing, which has made me want to write it. I have an essay to finish by tomorrow and a couple of poems to write by September so I still count as a Real Writer, but I just remembered that I haven’t written an update post here for a while, so I’m doing that instead.
The past month has had essays, and whole days spent lying down, and two milkshakes, and walking in the cold, and headaches, and frustration, and plenty of cats, and watching cartoons late at night, and lipstick, and being conflicted, and being scared, and being confused, and reading enough for once, and wanting to do better, and making an effort to learn, and bus rides, and listening to the same songs too many times, and sarsaparilla, and being on the very edge of being honest with people, and making progress too slowly.
Maybe that’s why things never feel right. I know I’m making progress and carrying on and trying my best, but I can still feel that it’s too slow and that in the end my efforts aren’t going to matter. In any case I like sarsaparilla and I need to wear lipstick more. Also spearmint milkshakes are delightful.
I’ve been having nightmares about things that are real too. Real things are the worst subject matter for nightmares. They don’t bother me for very long, which is a small mercy, but it does bother me to know things can have such a huge impression on me that they’ll even bother me when I’m asleep. That’s the whole point of sleeping – I see it as procrastinating and putting off life. Long hours of not thinking and being warm. It’s hardly surprising people think I’m lazy, but I think if they were in my shoes they’d do the exact same thing.
Anyways, this month has been full of small discoveries and an overwhelming sense of things burning out.