I sleep for twelve hours straight and have trouble leaving my house on the same day that I’m looking up the price of a plane ticket to Chicago, the price of a train ticket to San Francisco.
I am realizing that we have trouble accepting how human it is to be a human. We do not forgive ourselves for how much we feel. We get angry at ourselves for being hurt, angry at ourselves for needing love or attention, as if it is a shame to have any sort of imperfection at all.
I feel like a bad human sometimes and I don’t know what that means. I think it just means on days, I’m really bad at existing.
I forget to feed myself and brush my teeth.
I have trouble getting to sleep and sometimes I even forget how to breathe, how to take a deep breath, how to relax in the face of panic. I think I need to begin reminding myself some days being a human means feeling so much inside you that you need to shut out the world around you otherwise it’s all too much. Because sometimes when I’m alive I can feel everybody’s pain and all their stories of aching and missing. Because some days you can feel everybody else’s heavy and your heavy and you can’t even bring yourself to sit up in bed.
Sometimes being a human means being too quick to forgive the wrong people and taking an eternity to forgive yourself. Sometimes being a human is feeling lost as hell because you have no idea what to do and you have no idea who you are. Maybe being a human means always being terrified of not knowing what’s going to happen next in your life but being there to wake up the next morning anyway. Maybe being a human means knowing you’re loving the wrong people, but loving them anyway to learn a lesson. Maybe it means standing in your own way sometimes. Maybe it means wanting things you can’t have, missing people who already walked out the door. Maybe it means always wanting to be in another place at another time. Sometimes it means feeling brave and exposed, but sometimes it means feeling small and invisible.
Maybe what makes a human a human is as simple as, “We are here. We are aching and alive, full of stories and light, and some days we forget how beautiful it is.”
Annie’s saving the blood slaves was a bigger deal than it’s often made it to be (ie, it’s not often a fandom topic, its deleted scene is invisible). Along with the confrontation of Owen, it was a major turning point in her story that made her very strong, more aware and less afraid, as well as solid through the Saul storyline.
It’s lonely. You’ll give anything for that crumb of comfort. That feel of skin against skin that says, “It’s okay. I’m here.” It’s a hunger. The most basic instinct. You might even drag others into this world of the dead. Even if it means turning them into monsters too.