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When I write here. Who am I writing for? Do I want people to read me? Am I just talking to myself? What am I reaching out for? What is this place to me? It's where I go when I'm reflecting on my life... So I can't be wanting people to read me because I'm pretty raw and uncensored and I'm always censored with people. But I can't be just talking to myself either. I come because I'm trying to remember what I'm supposed to say next.
Life is funny. It's always up and down and I know that's a fact. It's what I learned in research methods class was a trend, something you can predict with 100% acuracy: there will always be BS, which is why I always tell myself not to worry, because things always work out, better times always comes back.
I don't know, like I'm not actually going to become a courtisane, or an escort, or a whore, whatever you want to call it. It's just, when I have major anxiety, for some reason, that's the first thought that pops in my head. And I get so invested in it... In the creation of this other character. It always goes away because I know what I'm doing is stupid. I'm not insane. I know at my core that I'll never do it again.
That is a milestone if I've ever had one. Writing that. Just now. That's why I come here. Saying it to myself. In I'd never do it again isn't only a fact, but a fact as a result of willpower. I always leave that out. I am weak... if such and such a thing had happened... if I hadn't met this person or that person, I'd be a drug addict like them (the girls that stay stuck), dead, roadkill; the only reason I'm still alive is sheer luck. In French, we say "concours de circonstances" - a contest of circumstances. It was the circumstances that made me, not me that made the circumstances. Like, being able to write about it today, expressing some pretty big insights into what got me there in the first place and what demons I still have to fight - that was sheer luck.
That's why I come here: because I lie to myself a lot, except here.
Maybe I'm writing because this place is like a best friend. I so miss my real best friend and I don't really have anyone, except Miss E. (which is a lot already, I know), to fill the void. You know how, when you talk it out the next day you see things more clearly? Talking it out helps iron out the backnoise (that metaphor dedicated to a dear Siren...). Hear the message we've been missing.
The main message I'm missing is that I'm able to do whatever I want to do and the only person really in my way is myself.
csg
Life is funny. It's always up and down and I know that's a fact. It's what I learned in research methods class was a trend, something you can predict with 100% acuracy: there will always be BS, which is why I always tell myself not to worry, because things always work out, better times always comes back.
I don't know, like I'm not actually going to become a courtisane, or an escort, or a whore, whatever you want to call it. It's just, when I have major anxiety, for some reason, that's the first thought that pops in my head. And I get so invested in it... In the creation of this other character. It always goes away because I know what I'm doing is stupid. I'm not insane. I know at my core that I'll never do it again.
That is a milestone if I've ever had one. Writing that. Just now. That's why I come here. Saying it to myself. In I'd never do it again isn't only a fact, but a fact as a result of willpower. I always leave that out. I am weak... if such and such a thing had happened... if I hadn't met this person or that person, I'd be a drug addict like them (the girls that stay stuck), dead, roadkill; the only reason I'm still alive is sheer luck. In French, we say "concours de circonstances" - a contest of circumstances. It was the circumstances that made me, not me that made the circumstances. Like, being able to write about it today, expressing some pretty big insights into what got me there in the first place and what demons I still have to fight - that was sheer luck.
That's why I come here: because I lie to myself a lot, except here.
Maybe I'm writing because this place is like a best friend. I so miss my real best friend and I don't really have anyone, except Miss E. (which is a lot already, I know), to fill the void. You know how, when you talk it out the next day you see things more clearly? Talking it out helps iron out the backnoise (that metaphor dedicated to a dear Siren...). Hear the message we've been missing.
The main message I'm missing is that I'm able to do whatever I want to do and the only person really in my way is myself.
csg
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