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2015-04-11 21:34:59 (UTC)

Burning Tummy and Tasty Lips

"Three Rounds and a Sound" by Blind Pilot

Blooming up from the ground
3 rounds and a sound
Like whispering "you know me.
You know me."

April 11, 2015 Saturday 9:38 PM [somethin' like 12 days until my sixteenth birthday, woot]

My stomach burns. I don't know why, really, but I'm deeply nervous.

Memories are so weird. Sorry. I should've written this entry hours ago when it was still kind of fresh in my mind. Right now, I can't really think straight. No real thoughts in my head. Sound clips and split second images, yes. Actual ideas? Nah.

(My lips taste like Mandarin oranges)

What did I want to say when I could form thoughts? I don't know. I wanted to remember when I developed such strong nostalgia. The first time I really remember experiencing a deep sense of nostalgia is maybe after fifth or sixth grade. The warm months, end of the school year, driving to the mall, windows down, breathing in the air.

That special air that inspires me to disrespect everything that makes me myself. I just want to do something.

I think that's when it all started to get bad, actually. It was probably sometime before that that I developed self-awareness, so the anxiety was just getting worse. Anyway, yeah, blah blah, anxiety slow consumed whatever my personality was in the span of about two or three years after that. Ended up a strange, sad lump with repetitive thoughts. Was placed in a facility so that professionals could keep me from just throwing my life away. After that, I dunno, I guess I've been learning to get past it.

Most people have a hard time understanding, though, that being pushed out of my comfort zone, learning to deal with new situations, is all very difficult for me. It's not that I don't want to, it's that I'm very afraid and I don't know how to get rid of everything I've learned to do to spare me from pain. I go my own pace. I've been told I can change within a month. Well, maybe I can change in as little as a month, but that would exhaust me. Give me a year, maybe two, and I can repair things about myself. I can get better. It's just very slow. So slow I barely notice.

I'm very confused. I hate how high maintenance my mind is. I wish I was either an extrovert or an introvert, but I guess it's not that easy. Sometimes, I like being around a lot of people, but eventually, it wears me out (I KNOW "IT WEARS ME OUT" IS A POPULAR PHRASE BUT IT ALWAYS REMINDS ME OF THIS PARTICULARLY ANGSTY RADIOHEAD SONG AND THAT KIND OF MAKES ME HAPPY...OR NERVOUS, I CAN'T TELL) and I have to go lie in bed for like two days.

This week, for example. I spent almost every day this week with one or more friends. It was awful. I mean, I love them and it was a lot of fun, but my lungs hurt so much, they are so tired, and I just... am sleepy.

And I am not making sense. Or if I am, good for me. I feel like I'm looking really closely at shit and so I can never see the whole picture?? Only all that is in my head, and so I can't think clearly, I can only think one word at a time, forgetting anything I previously said (even if it was a split second ago) and being oblivious to whatever I'm about to say next.

I am unable to process anything and I hate that because all this writing is probably reverberating in your head clumsily due to the fact that I don't have enough brain power to organize it pleasantly.

I am twisting in my head. I feel very happy, very sleepy, very lonely, very sad, and very scared. Also very confused. Confused because how does one even feel that much all at once? And how is it so strong and so mild at the same time?

And why do I hate myself while also believing I'm so great??? I've seen this in other people too. I don't hate myself. And I also try to keep my ego in check. I am not that way anymore, at least not as much as I was.

I've decided to go easier on Olivia. I challenge her a lot with my words. I'm perpetually angry with her for some reason, like she did something to me, and I don't understand that feeling. It's not fair to her or to me.

Besides, the other day we had a really long, great conversation ranging from social issues all the way to science. The science part was actually my favorite. If I were to choose that as my career, I'd probably decide to be a theoretical physicist. I looked up the definition and it sounds pretty dull. Lots of equations. I hate equations. What I don't hate is the philosophy part. The "what if".

maybe this isn't particularly groundbreaking, but Olivia and I were talking and she mentioned that it was impossible for her to imagine our universe being infinite. "I mean, it has to end somewhere, doesn't it??!"

And so, my greased up brain had about twenty thoughts in one second and I said, "OH MY GOD, BUT no matter what way you put it, the universe IS infinite. It's ever expanding, right? And if it has an end, that means something has to come after that right? Even if there is nothing, that is technically something??? And so it can just keep going like this, on forever and ever."


Alright, I should go now before I explode. Children are laughing in my head. I don't even know who the fuck they are. It's like a clip from some movie where someone had a flashback to their childhood dipped in honey, and I can hear a girl's (melodious? creepy?) laugh, see her running in a field the way I used to do, I can see her in a dress with long brown hair flowing behind her, and while I can pick out her features, she looks like every little brown-haired, olive-skinned child that has ever existed. I'm tired.

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