Updates and Things

I don’t understand how I have nothing to say now that i’m free, but so much during the school year. I feel like my brain is a pile of mush and I’ve lost the single ounce of creativity I used to have. Maybe i’m being too hard on myself, but i’m afraid if i’m not it’ll be permanent. I think I’ll try to make it a rule to write at least two times a week, and maybe attempt a poem once a week. I like writing poetry, not because I’m any good at it, but because it forces me to think in a manageable way. It’s like writing a very small story. After work just now I was waiting for the bus and eating Cheetos when it appeared much earlier than I thought and I had to run on covered with orange dust everywhere, so that was silly. 

I’m reading Wuthering Heights for the first time, and it’s very frustrating but very enjoyable. I’m only 150 pages deep, but I really like Nelly because she seems to soothe all the frustrations of Catherine and Heathcliff by doing all the “right” things. She’s a breath of fresh air. I’m on the bus now, writing on my phone’s notes app, and I’ll eventually send it to its home. I know this is boring and not so extravagant, future me, but dull days are just as important to remember. Ever since I went off my SSRI, I feel like the sky has been slightly brighter but I’ve been so quick to cry, and I can’t remember much of anything from the past year. My brain has these really nice compartmentalized memories from my former years, but almost nothing from the past three (?) or four, which is okay because they aren’t something I’d like to remember anyways. I want it to start from last September onwards. My hair is growing, and I think by July rolls around it’ll be to my chin. Sometimes people just have a hairstyle that is so “them,” like a video game character or something that never changes. I feel like a stupid bob is mine. Next time it won’t be me cutting my hair really short. God please let the washing machine be free. I’m going to run downstairs exactly at 7am on the dot.  

JESUS CHRIST. Sorry. It’s the next day -- but now I have something to say!!! I hate, hate, hate being highly sensitive. I kid you not, I just humiliated myself in front of 100 people. I had a nosebleed at work and i’m not someone who gets them often so I didn’t know what to do, and it poured all over the floor and covered my face and both hands and I just stood in a corner while my (bless her heart) poor coworker ran to the bathroom and back with paper towels (she’s so so sweet). I couldn’t go to the bathroom because it’s freaking ten minutes away and through the entire store and I was afraid I would scare everyone and drip everywhere. Looking back, I wish I just cleaned myself up when I got the first bunch of tissues, and then calmly went to the bathroom - but nooo I started crying (???) which made it worse. My coworker had to sit with me in the first aid room, and I feel like my supervisor hates me because she’s said how she doesn’t like filling out incident reports. AND I involved everyone in my shenanigans which is so awful, AND now my coworkers probably have to do more work. I feel so evil. They were both so so so sweet to me, but that just made me sob more. I try not to bother anyone and it feels so awful that I had to. I feel so powerless, like I have no control over my emotions. I don’t understand why I can’t just not cry. I don’t even have time to question it, it just happens, BAM. Isn’t my brain supposed to tell my body what to do? I'm saying NO!!! Whatever.

Anyways, Heathcliff is so gross. Obviously. I think it’s kind of interesting how Isabella Linton’s person and experience of him is like a critical manifestation of readers who romanticize Byronic male characters. It’s like Emily Bronte is challenging her sister’s Jane Eyre, or just generally, her taste in men. Like — no, your dark and broody man is not going to be horrible to everyone but you, he’s an abusive monster, this is who he is and this is what he does. 

It’s Wednesday night and I’m really scared for tomorrow. I don’t want anyone to treat me differently and I wish I didn’t act so stupid and vulnerable. I wish I was stronger and more confident like I think I am in my head, but when it comes to I am afraid and fragile. I wish being self-aware meant anything and I wish I didn’t feel so alone!!! I am always just stalling for time.

And now it's Thursday, and all is well - sorta. I've been getting nosebleeds everyday. If this were the 18th century they'd call me hysterical or whatever. I promise my uterus isn't flying around right now although I kind of wish it was.

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