I have so much love for little aspects of life. I love to water my plants. I love to pet my cat because of how loud her purr is. I love to sit on the kitchen counters while dinner is being made, the smell of food circulating the air. I love to imagine those smells as colors floating around me and illuminating the warmth that fills the kitchen. I love it when people make me laugh, It feels like I’m at a loss of breath, which is somehow the best feeling in the world. I love to take the most skin-curdling, brain-melting shower right before bed. I love to hug people goodbye, I imagine the smile on my face the next time I get to see them. I love the song “a day in the life” by the Beatles. I love the book Daisy Jones And The Six. I love to lay on the floor because the hardness feels like an anchor when my mind starts to spin. I love to go to the beach because the sand sticks to my skin. I love to wash the day off of my tired face. I love to smell candles but not light them because I don’t want them to go away too fast. I love white daisy’s in a mason jar. I love to propagate vines. I love to make eye contact with people and let them break it. I love to play with little kids. I love to be at home with my family. I love to watch Formula 1 races. I love to swim and ride my bike at night. I love my mom and dad. And even though he doesn’t think so, I really love Vaughn.
Today it was 86 degrees. This weather is so gorgeous it makes me sick. When I wake up and the sun is shining through my window, I want nothing more than to let my bed swallow me whole until nine pm the same day. I think that it’s so ironic how such a beautiful day could make me want to hide in my room for so long. When I sit in class and look out the window as the heat ripples across the ground, I want to cry and bang my head against the desk. I. Hate. It. I like to put in my left airpod and listen to the same playlist over and over again all day. It mainly consists of Dream, Ivory, Oscar Lang, Deftones, The Walters, and Cocteau Twins. If you were to look it up, it sounds like the feeling of taking a bath at three in the morning in the dark, because that is my comfort. I love to be alone. But not in a sad, I’m so depressed because my life is just the hardest thing in the world kind of way. I like it because it reminds me that every day is the same, and I hate that feeling but in a weird way I love to feel the things that I hate. I love routines. I love when it’s cold outside but I’m wearing two shirts and a hoodie. When you wake up and the sky is grey, you can’t see 50 feet in front of you because of the haze. I love to walk alone at school and wait for the day to end. It’s the same feeling every day that I crave. I love to hate being sad.
10:23 am. Today I was driving and I started to disassociate. It’s the moment when you look at your hands on the steering wheel and you can’t remember how they got there. An action without a thought. The frustration that comes with the inability to recognize the hands that have guided you through your life thus far. These thoughts consume you and you can feel nothing and everything at the same time. Your breathing slows and moves like the colors behind your eyes when you try to fall asleep. You will never give it away, not with the solemn look on your face, or the thoughtless gloss swimming in your eye. I don’t think there is a time when you can be more in your head, but that’s just an opinion. The sounds of her voice muffle as I try to keep myself from falling down my own throat. “Isn’t that crazy” 10:57 am.
I am experiencing major writer’s block. This entire week I open my computer once or twice a day and try to think of something to write about. My mind feels completely and utterly blank. Then I realized that my mind has been blank for the entire week. I know this just makes me seem stupid. Hell, it makes me feel stupid. Sometimes I have the mindset that I can’t write something unless it’s “interesting” but then I go on to wonder what interesting really implies. Is it interesting to just be depressed, angry, or fill your life with gossip? It often starts to seem that way. I won’t pretend to be an angel as if I don’t get involved, I just hate when that starts to be the things I find interesting. The more I let myself get roped into all this shit the more I get sad. It’s all a cycle, you get sad because you get roped in and you get roped in because you have nothing else to think about. Then I realized what even is writer’s block? The idea of free writing is the ability to write whatever is on your mind. So I guess that’s what I’m doing. What I’m trying to say is that, more often than not, the things that happen in my life would not be viewed as interesting. But maybe that makes it easier to write about.