solitary_summer: (Default)

Sometimes writing seems so very redundant...

August already, this summer is slipping by so fast; tired, badly in need of a holiday, thank god it's only one more week & then I'm off.

At least managed three morning runs again this week.

Had dinner at my sister's Wednesday, came home, threw up and felt vaguely nauseous the next two days, not that anyone actually needed to know that.

Finally had my hair cut on Tuesday & henna-dyed it today. Am very red-headed now.

Half-way through Dostojewskij's Crime and Punishment, and finally, after two hundred pages or so that were rather hard to read, very much intrigued.

Continued to write my Wesley vignette thingy, which is really just an exercise in procrastination considering it takes me months & a lot of dvd watching to come up with 2000 words. But the fact that I can actually write anything fictious at all, even if it's only fanfic, is still something of a pleasantly surprising novelty and kind of nice...

I've been going through my old paper diaries recently & thinking about the past, the whole M.-related drama. Probably not a good idea, thoroughly embarrassing, and too, too long ago in any case. Still... despite everything, part of me, the part that isn't shit-scared of going through these emotional ups and downs - mostly downs, really - again, longs for this intensity of feeling.

solitary_summer: (candy (© clive barker))

Ran 1 hr. 25 mins., so there's that at least. The physical part isn't the problem, even what with having been sick this week that went well enough, no gasping, no extra breaks... it's a more of a mental exhaustion - I used to enjoy doing this, now getting up is something of an ordeal if I manage it at all (it was easier in November, when it was cold and still pitch dark), and I'm forcing myself to go through with it, because, weight issues, fitness issues, guilt, &c.

So I guess I'll go on that bicycle tour with Ch. and T. tomorrow after all, although I really don't want to & have been rehearsing excuses for days. But it's not as if I would do anything worthwhile otherwise, I'm not even in the mood for photographing at the moment, and it's pointless to even try when I'm in the kind of mood where I'm at odds with myself and the world. 60 km of biking will at least do something for my body.
solitary_summer: (night (© clive barker))

Well, thank god for not-so-crappy tv shows, because apparently somewhere in the process of analysing a character you may actually get some insight into yourself. Then again, could be this is projecting my own issues onto the character in question, but as far as the results are concerned it doesn't make any difference...

I've come to the conclusion that what I've been doing for some time now (with barely any exception at all) is keep people at a distance, emotionally as well as physically, making it impossible for them to hurt me, to reject me; to have power over me in any that matters.

I can keep up a level of good-will towards the universe in general, but as far as individual people are concerned... either they just don't matter very much, or in the rare case when it seems they may begin to do, at one point some kind of defense mechanism kicks in that makes me pull away, even break off contact entirely.

I'm guessing the mostly-asexual thing is also part of this problem.

So of course I don't, can't, really appreciate affection (love?) either, because I can never entirely believe it's real, and even while I occasionally whine about being lonely, most of the time I - probably unconsciously, at this point - choose safety over the risk of emotions.

When did this happen?

More importantly, how do you even begin to try to change something like that? How do you consciously try to let yourself get close to anyone again, maybe in the end let yourself love anyone? Seven easy steps, or twelve, or whatever it is?

So, so fucked up.

solitary_summer: (finnegan (© clive barker))

Recently I seem to be fluctuating between two moods - one, more or less content, vaguely apathetic, vaguely calm, can at best transform itself into a state of peacefulness both with myself and the world. It's not as blandly negative, or as passive as it may sound; it doesn't feel like suppression or denial; at least most of the time it doesn't.

The other... a bundle of conflicting violent emotions, the frustration, rage, dreams, ambitions, knowledge of failure, regrets; the want, the need, the daring to want; the can't-bear-it. It's overwhelming, and somehow it seems when I allow/invite any kind of deeper emotion, even the memory of one, I throw open a door for all the others to rush in, too.

Who am I, either, both? Going insane?

Let go and change into something or someone different, or attempt finding a balance combining both sides?

I want the peace, the calm. I need it. I can't live like this, with an unfocused anger I can ultimately turn only against myself because I know I'm the only one to blame, and yet unable and/or too scared to change anything.
solitary_summer: (25 (© clive barker))

Must be spring, even though that makes it oh-so clicheed.

A little more sunlight, temperatures rising & I'm beginning to feel... all those vaguely romantic spring type of feelings. Or maybe just to feel, period.

All kinds of emotions and I don't know what to do with them, to do about them.

Pathetically, desperately needy.

::le sigh::


solitary_summer: (Default)

March 2013

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