velvtally's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Work In Progress "I can't be losing sleep over this, no I can't/And now I can not stop pacing/Give me a few hours, I'll have all this sorted out/If my mind would just stop racing"
Maybe this morning/afternoon I can stop confusing myself, maybe I can start trying to express what I need here, maybe I can stop hiding behind other langauges to cover me up. I've been hiding, from myself, for weeks now. Months, probably. I'm extrememly well at hiding any notion that any nitch in me could be possibly be faulty. Last night, well, really, this morning, Aidan came back from his post-odessey haze. He isn't sure why he found me mellow and out of it, he'll be as shocked as Ryan, I'm sure. I saw him and I couldn't keep running anymore... I haven't been honest to myself, it's difficult being you're own therapist. It's difficult promising to write everyday...you get to a point where you can no longer talk about the trivial (not that my life is trivial) and you have the face whatever little demon you carry with you, hidden beneath the everyday junk you think about. I promised not to go hiding, or be my usual hermit self. (That part of me that scares my family but makes me feel perfectly fine.) There's nothing wrong with it, but in all reality it's a running mechanism. A device to which to not face what's real, or not have to tell the difference anymore. So...what was my point? Did I have one? *ponders* The point that I was running, blinded, on empty? Yeah. I was dis-honest and running, from everyone, and myself. Except Ryan, my fireladder and escape hatch. But what exactly was I running from? Who knows? The nameless thing that dwells under the useless trivia? The chill you try to aviod right before falling asleep? I'm still working on that one... 2:01 pm - December 31, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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