It is peaceful in my little apartment tonight. I have the lights low, watching tv shows on my laptop, drinking tea and eating an apple. The simple pleasure of just being alone has escaped me the past few weeks. I forgot that I like being by myself, that there have been times in my life where being alone was a rare blessing.
I have been shutting off all my senses, dulling myself in order to survive the moments. I allow myself a few minutes to feel, to smell his shirt or listen to his music, but mostly I have closed my windows and doors and fell into a hole so I didn't have to bear it all. I sound so dramatic, but that's what I did. Now I see that there is so much more I could/should be doing with my time.
When did I forget that I love to create? That I feel sick when my room isn't clean? How did I let my passion drizzle out of me?
No more. I start in the morning, cleaning and fixing, and making things. No more just sitting around, staring at a computer screen so I don't have to feel. Where did I go? I LOVE to feel, even when feeling hurts.
I didn't know this would affect me like it is. I didn't know I would have so much trouble handling it. I thought I would just do what I normally do, and wait it out. Now I see that I have fallen into despair without even realizing it.
No more of that, thank-you-very-much. I am way too awesome to let something like this get me down.
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