i feel like i tend to only write to an “audience” when i feel good, when i feel chipper, when i feel like writing with excitement and enthusiasm and saying things that feel so good they don’t even NEED exclamation points. they ARE exclamation points.
now is not that time.
i spent about 30 minutes looking for some book to read out of my library about “winter” or “solace” or “discontent” or “melancholy” or “rumination” or “sadness.” you get the drift. i tried poetry by rumi and dylan thomas but that wasn’t doing the trick so instead i write, which truly is doing the trick.
i want to kind of just write about some experiences. this past sunday was one of the absolute highest days of my life. i spent it at the agape spiritual center, which is my absolute favorite place on earth. i met so many wonderful people, saw so many wonderful friends, received and gave so many hugs. it was really a so many day.
now at this moment i dont feel this at all. i feel kind of disconnected, bordering on alone and isolated. there was a point a few hours ago where death felt like a really nice idea.
what im wondering is, what is this?
how does this happen? how does it come on so quickly, so unexpectedly, so unannounced, for no “good reason.”
i dont think the logical mind has or will ever have the answer for this, and my gut is telling me that the only choice is to surrender to it.
to which i say. fuck you. i dont wanna surrender to it. i wanna keep feeling good over and over forevermore. what the fuck did i do to feel like this? i spent this evening giving out free hugs in hollywood and that felt great. and now. BAM. just like that.
life just feels so big some times. like i cant even comprehend it. there is just so much beauty and so many stories and so much struggle and heartache and pain and light and love and joy that i just want to fucking explode.
i dont know what to do with it all. i want to just hold you. i want to just hold you and never let go. i want to look at your eyes with so much love and so much sadness and just cry. just cry until i weep and just cry through it all. through the birth of universes and the end of worlds and just be there with it.
and i am so scared. i am so scared to let it all in because it feels like there is so much heaviness in the light. like when the light finally decides to own up and admit the darkness to the party, it just feels like a lot. i dont know if i can handle it sometimes.
i was never really so fond of the book, but the phrase “the unbearable lightness of being” comes to mind right now. to tell you the truth, it kind of hurts right now.
im glad to finally admit this. to let it out in the open and give it some space. im tired of being perfect.
and so i already feel better. like in that cathartic way that writing is so good at producing. which in a certain way makes me angry. why? why go through it in the first place? the “better” feels a little hollow right now. i dont really understand it.
what is all of this? and why am i going to look back on this writing when i feel on top of the world again tomorrow or in 5 minutes and laugh about how “crazy” life is sometimes. why cant i hold onto this feeling, so that i can remember it exists. so that i can remember it. it’s like it slips between my grasp and then it’s gone.
cuz it sucks. cuz then i think it’s gone. i buy the lie. and then SWOOSH like that it’s back.
i seem to be moving slowly toward rambling so ill stop there.
next time you see me, encourage me to cry. its what i really want to do deep down.
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