Can I borrow your bones, please? Just for a little while. I’d like to feel something different to this feeling I’m experiencing right now. It’s a sort of weightlessness that makes me feel incredibly nauseous and light-headed. I’m hollow and the last thing I want to do is eat. But I eat anyway, because if I didn’t, well, bad things would start to happen. You would be able to do a rubbing on my ribcage. I have my daylight therapy light on while I write this. And two other bulbs glowing. If I hadn’t burnt all my candles down, they’d be lit too. I need quite a lot of light around me when I’m feeling this close to the ground.
Little things, tiny things, trigger these emotional responses like a bullet through the kneecap. It can be absolutely ridiculous stuff, but my mind wants to feel anything other than okay. It wants to pick on my every insecurity and make me worry and stress and panic, and repeat, until there’s nothing else to do but climb under the covers and beg for sleep to knock me out. I’ve vowed to start counting to ten, then taking a breath and getting on with what I’m doing, yet I still have to put this into practise.
I’m at this point that whenever I turn there is someone succeeding at what they love doing, and although my heart jumps for them, my mind always flickers back to when I was in my late teens, early twenties, and was riding that same glorious wave of success and contentment. (With my writing, that is. My mental health was still pretty crap.) When things cocked up, I shrugged my pride back on again and trudged onwards.
I will admit right now, that I am not the easiest person to be friends with. (Hence my circle of friends away from the internet being incredibly small.) My mood varies from day to day and this effects my communication and social skills massively. The thing is though, I’m a hugely passionate person, who fucking loves life. I want to squeeze the most out of every day and go to bed excited about waking up the next morning. I’d like to think that I’m worth being friends with, despite the bleak times when I am just a complete and utter moody bitch. Some of the best times over the past few months have been spent drinking tea in a cafe, or watching Alan Partridge, or not having a distinct plan, and just going with the flow and seeing what happens. I need to do these sorts of things more often. I want balance in my life. It’s all just ticking boxes at the moment, and my spirit is tired of it. I want to be an adventurer, and make more memories that will last forever. I could just stay in my room and write, and do nothing else with my time, but I have a feeling that if I keept on doing that I’d end up drawing a palm on my hand and talking to it. And there are only so many hugs you can give yourself before your arms become weary.