1. i mostly exhaust myself these days
2. i am mostly exhausted by my obsession with always having to: be more, do more, be better, constantly learn, be whole, be entire, save the world, save a body, save something that is not myself, save my mama’s traumas, be more than my flaws, carry them all the way home (not the one i’m yet to build for myself), be a thing that is yet to happen
3. i wake up at 6am and go to pee. i come back and try to lull my body back into a deep sleep but am caught between every thought i have about the day, work i need to do, how the anxiety makes me want to scream into myself
4. i never got to be normal as a kid, normal or ordinary is not a thing i got to do. i have trained myself into believing that i still do not get to be normal or ordinary
5. i am tired of having to try to be perfect, a varnished thing, i cannot be an acute imperfection, I must sand myself down into only good ;
6. i realise my favourite colour is really blue, the pale and almost kind, the dusky one that is both warm and cool at once, the kind that is both water and sky, a myth of sorts
7. i wonder if i will ever write anything complete again, a story that has some meat to it, that stops sounding like all my unanswered questions pried out onto bodies i have known, bodies that ask for forgiveness only on the page
8. what i do know is this: most nights i go to bed early. i have stopped socialising. i prefer to run and take naps. i prefer the silence or the candles flickering a prayer against a white surface. i spend most evenings now wondering if for a moment i could stop, where it would take me. maybe i’d climb a mountain or run a bigger distance or take up a new hobby. maybe i’d know how to love, it would come naturally, big and wide, movement like instead of this - moulding, moulding, moulding myself, an early morning panic attack or always a lover gone too soon, blue - the almost kind.