it’s weird how I can start out in a good mood… or at least a normal one… and end up sick with sadness… nothing having happened at all, save for hearing a certain song, or folding a piece of clothing that reminds me of someone. How can something so small and meaningless send me into a spiral? I re-read “Consider a Move” by Michael Ryan today. It’s one of my favorite poems of all time, but it haunts me. And I cant figure out if it found me this afternoon or if I sought it out.
And then for some reason I always feel the need to feed it, to indulge it. For some reason, my solace is complete desolation.
So here is me listening to the music I KNOW will affect me, typing away feeling sorry for myself. Trying to dredge up the next bad memory, fear, or problem.
It’s kind of like pressing on a bruise… it hurts, but in some masochistic way it feels good.
gross. what is wrong with me?