the heart beats, but for what?

two months and no new words. what a dispicable truth.
many new things to speak of and yet nothing to show from it.

new:
car
focus
boyfriend
jackets and shoes
exercise schedule... ughhh.
sleeping schedule... zzzz.
groceries
recipes
a cough
and yet -

old:
thinking patters coming to the surface, again.

when i started this blog i was trying to break free of something, old habits and rituals and harmful thoughts and ways of being. or not being. and now, i find myself in the midst of many relationships which i am constantly trying to improve which have nothing to do with improving myself. i spend SO MUCH TIME watching other people, allowing their influence to validate my opinions. and i can't do it anymore, it's fucking exhausting.

i hate to say it, but i'll admit: i'm back where i used to be.
except for one part, i recognize the street signs and landmarks.
(don't know if that makes it better or worse.)

this comes in waves. damn, i hate emotionality.

i've realized:
it's exhausting to be awake and wondering and looking and seeing all. the. time.
and it makes it a fuckload easier for me to understand why people watch television and get "hobbies" and eat nachos bel grande while they slurp mountain dew and play video games. i understand why people jog. i understand why people get dogs. i understand why people work 9-5 desk jobs. i understand why people fucking LOVE ikea and the home shopping network and 12 step plans and all of it.
because it makes things easy.
because they organize the chaos.
because their urges and fears and doubts and hopelessness comes to a brief end when they are surrounded by clarity.

i found clarity in God. i did.
and not just because the person i used to date loved God
or because i was at my wit's end (although i was)
but because i wanted to.
and now i am in a relationship with someone who kind of thinks it's a joke.
and i laugh. but i don't want to.

.

you know the one thing my mother tried to teach me was be independent and be who you are and don't accept anything else.
but i've realized it is perhaps that she made this so important to me, the pivotal truth of being alive, that i have always constantly sought an identity better than my own.
when identity is what we are made to understand, it is like showing a child the finishing line of a story and then asking them to analyze how the story got there. so, this kid is thinking "how the hell am i supposed to know because i never heard the story?"

each day, i analyze as a whole. each comment, color, taste, sound.
i almost pray something bad happens to me just to make the world seem colorful again. something to struggle for. something to fight for.

but then again, thinking about Job - i better not pray too hard.

.

all things together - i know the answer is simple, as it always is in the end.
why didn't i just get outside more?
or call that person?
or really really think about what i wanted?
or tell that person to kindly go screw themself?
or just do what i want?

listen to me whine.
whine whine whine whine whine.

i deserve an immaculate whooping.

damn, i miss when this world made sense.