November Late Night Musings
a collection from 2017
November 1 (or I guess really November 2) — 4:54am
I lay in bed picturing myself scraping away the bad dream like it’s old gum, removing the sticky substance from my brain.
November 5 — 9:05pm
How do you untangle yourself from someone? When they’ve already grown thick roots into you, quietly entwined into your chest? Eva is crying. I know this is hard for her, exposing her emotions like this. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Her year of exchange is almost up. She’s leaving the country to go back home next month. The impending end of the relationship has been weighing on her and she finally cracked. Time ticking, time an enemy. It’s hard. It hurts. I know, I know.
How do you untangle yourself from someone? I tell her time will heal, time will heal. One day you’ll realize it hurts less. It’s okay to hurt now. It’s going to hurt now. And that’s okay. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Don’t repress it. It will pass. It will pass. It will pass. I don’t tell her that although the roots lose their vigor, they never disintegrate completely. Fossilized remnants.
November 3 — 10:23pm
I’ve been thinking about where the line is drawn between “normal” and “not normal” in mental health and where I fall on that line, where anyone falls on that line (what the fuck is “normal” anyway?) and where the lines blur. I feel weird cooped up alone in my house on a Friday night, so I go outside for a walk to clear my head. The moon is so pretty and so full. I’m so scared of death, especially of dying young, but it’s comforting to know that when I’m gone, the moon and the ocean and the rest of this beautiful Earth will persist on. That is, until the sun swells into a red giant and engulfs our Earth, or until the sun dies out, leaving our precious planet light-less. Both are pretty fucking terrifying to think about. Still, there is that consistent, never-ending beauty in the cosmos seen in supernovas, the starry night sky. The wonder of matter will persist. The universe is so big. The unknown is so fucking scary and so fucking reassuring.
November 4 — 11:20pm
I only drink when I’m happy. I can’t touch marijuana anymore.
When the anxiety starts to spiral my brain, I
n e e d
to breathe in the brisk cold air and see the world with razor sharp sober clarity.
