fuckatherine

This word "deserve," it follows me. My specter of hesitation, burden of uncertainty. Is there something inherently wrong with me? I need someone to tell me if it's me. It doesn't matter, I'm sick of it, it's not a big deal, I want to stop thinking about it, get over it, the weather is so nice, I am always thinking about it, it doesn't matter, I don't believe you, it doesn't matter, the sun is out, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.

What do I even deserve? If I get what I "deserve" will it even be what I want?

 Winter in Texas

 

I had the above heading typed into this entry already so I left it. Not much thought there but it feels vaguely applicable to the bllllhhghhhhh below. Something something coldest summer San Francisco melancholia spring blah blah blah. Anyhow, onwards into the real meat of it all...

February always brings about a tedious and mind-muddling episode of passive psychological self harm. I feel terrible all the time. This malaise only languishes at a low enough level for it to simmer, though. It never boils over and it never dissipates. I’m left unsatisfied with my hurting. I wish it could be stronger, more identifiable. I wish it would manifest in an extravagant injury so that I could point my finger and scream at it, tell it, YOU YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DID THIS.

 

Car crash. Tumor, but never actually. I trip down the stairs, I develop toxic shock syndrome or something equally as evil and extraordinary and out of my control. Sickness and illness and hurt hurt hurt; but only a big hurt that heals into something small. I need an external power to beat me down so that I can recover without any responsibility and requirements. So that I don’t have to do any real work, face the real fear that perhaps my personal imbalances must be addressed in a way more introspective and unpleasant than receiving an infusion or getting a cast. 

 

I always misconstrue song lyrics. Projection, I guess. In “The Only Thing” I thought Sufjan Stevens had been singing, Do I care if I survive this? / Nothing else matters, I know. It actually says “despise” but I fixate on this false line a lot —Do I care? Of course, but the surviving part. I wish it were more obvious. I don’t know.