30 November, 2012


I hope you'll forgive me, but tonight, my heart's not really into #wineparty. I feel like I know why, but just don't truly want to admit it. I'm lonely. Yes, it's okay to laugh at the irony. I don't want to talk to people because I'm lonely.

Lately, I've felt like my brain is on the opposite schedule as the rest of the world. I have always wanted time to be with others and time to be alone. Usually they just bleed into each other in cycles, like the seasons the tides that fade in and out.

However, for the past few weeks, there have been ridgid periods of "I don't want anyone within miles" and "Please don't leave me". Randomly occuring, and driving those closest to me up a wall, presumably. They have been randomly littered throughout my day, and the abrupt shifts leave me feeling almost short-circuited.

(I failed a test in my American Sign Language class on Thursday because, moments before I entered the room, I just stopped caring about paying attention to others. I zoned everyone out and at the end of the test, realized I had only two or three words per sentence, in an eight-sentence story, written down.)

They're talking about my age at the #wineparty. I only know this because my phone keeps updating me with texts. Tonight, I find it mind-boggling to think that I'm interesting enough to discuss when not present in the conversation, but I know that's just me giving in to my darker thoughts.

The one downside to writing when I feel this way is that I never found a method of forcing my thoughts to make sense, and so I usually go through endless revisions after only several sentences, but this time is different as I'm allowing myself to do absolutely no editing. I'm just plowing through, and leaving those who aren't keeping up in the dust.

Then again, maybe tonight's moodiness is all based on the full moon. That would make me a lunatic. Eh, I've been called worse.

1 comment:

  1. My best writing is always the stream-of-consciousness stuff that I don't edit.