Monday, August 17, 2015

Sometimes I hate the fact that I write on a blog. I hate that I have the time and privilege to pretend my feelings are so important and dramatic.

Sometimes my emotions are so overwhelming and disastrous that I can't even write them; I can only cry but crying eases pain too slowly.

I try to find consolation for my frustration. I try to believe it's not so bad, and that I MUST forgive myself for all this craziness.

I feel so bad, I feel so confused, so crazy.
And the worst part is that I involve others, sometimes people I'd rather not see me so vulnerable and needy, like a travel agent or a parent.

I try to call friends, they say kind and helpful words, but then I hang up and am still drowning in the same pit.

Sometimes I recognize this feeling, and since I've felt it before, I know it will pass.

But when?

I'm flying in a week.

Nothing will ease by then.

This year has been wrong in many ways.

Troubles don't ease as easily as they could.

Pain stays too long, never really ceases

Nothing fades,

Everything is hard.















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