Bound

March 31, 2011 § Leave a comment

It was pointed out to me that only a few days before the past couple of troubling days came a stretch of good ones. Ones that I wrote little about because it’s easier to record the bad than explain why, inexplicably, out of nowhere, happiness hits. Superstition overtakes and I don’t want to jinx those days or curse them by explaining them away.

This is the reality of it. There are days that are written off from the moment your eyes open, days that stay fresh and exciting until the sun sets. Days you sabotage everything early on and days when you fight and fight but still lose. It’s becoming ever more apparent that what actually happens has very little bearing on how I feel about the reality of that day. Which is why writing comes in useful. Exposing those self-deceptions. Communicating what has actually happened, often against the stark reality of how that felt, makes it all a bit clearer.

The day after was sharp around the edges (tight in the stomach, sore and stale in the mouth), and yet those memories have faded too. Just as the memory of my lean body can’t quite be recalled right now. Whatever skin I’m living in feels entirely transient yet utterly immovable. This is where everything is supposed to be inscribed, but it’s not. It moves and changes, waxes and wanes, and the choice to do something positive rather than negative every day feels detached from the amount of willpower I have. The ebb and flow of feelings can’t be fought. Something needs to exist beyond that, and that’s the base rock I can’t seem to find. Occasionally, I dig down that far but often the tide pulls in and covers it up again. At the moment I can’t equate that strength with anything other than wanting the control of shedding and shrinking. Which isn’t what I’m striving for.

Another tie that binds.

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