I’m not okay.
I’m a pulsing mass of nerves, riding my own waves and trying not to dissolve into myself. I have work to do, a house to keep, bills to pay.
Random things set me off. It’s hard to tell anyone what’s going on, because they say “I’m sorry” and I break into pieces of a while. Then I pick myself back up, embarassed for making a scene, and make a hasty exit.
I deal with being left by making plans to leave. I want to go home to Washington, maybe to Aberdeen if I can get a job at the college there. I want to leave behind as much of what I have as I can, a cleansing of my crap and my life. I want to pay off my car and save up a few pennies before making the trip, because I am (and will always be) a planner.
I make plans to keep myself busy, too. NaNoWriMo is next month, which will be a good 30-day distraction. The holidays are coming, so there’s special food to plan. I’m finally going to go get my Semicolon Project tattoo in December, having found a local parlour without ridiculous rates for a tiny tat like that. My birthday will be right around the corner, too.
I’m trying to be okay. Not the kind of okay that accepts and understands what’s going on life… just the kind of okay that breathes and eats and sleeps.
Randomly found my theme song while browsing my subscriptions on YouTube:
I’m rambling, because I feel like blogging but don’t really have a reason. Just want to avoid letting my blog be silent.