I went to bed more early than I have in a while, must have been around 9:30, but I woke up at like 2 am with wicked pain in my hips and joints, and just a general feeling of unease, which is why I’m sitting up right now, at 4:20 in the morning writing this instead of curled up in a ball– more or less I’m waiting for the Tylenol PM to kick in, and hopefully that happens soon because my mind is running away with my sanity.
Music helps with these thoughts, as always, but honestly it was going down this path for a while, given people seem to keep cropping back up in my life that I really could have gone without seeing again– I realise that may seem harsh, but some of them represent some of the darkest times in my life and it kind of makes me uneasy to have them nearby and attempting to rekindle /anything/ with me, let alone talking to me at random about shit I don’t even pretend to care about.
There’s also the fact that a dear friend of mine was nearly falling apart, given some shit going on with a girl in his life and that making me want to find out where she is right now and throttle her until she stops being stupid, coupled with my over-protectiveness of my friends to begin with is not a healthy feeling, I don’t think. I just hope he doesn’t come out of it as damaged as his best friend and I are, the cynical romantics that have no idea what the hell they’re doing in the world.
Honestly, I consider myself a romantic, but I’m too cynical to let that happen, you know? It’s like things have burned down to the base so many times and I’ve been left holding ashes and burn scars on my hands so often that I find it hard to not flinch at the thought of it all. I’m trying to allow it to happen, to let myself be loved like my boyfriend seems to think I deserve– like my friends think I deserve, but then I look at the people I’m surrounded by, my best friend, another of our friends (the one I mentioned earlier), some other people who are dear to me who are floundering in unhappiness and I wonder if perhaps the world is meant to be in a constant state of flux, instead leaving us all so bitter at romanticism that we aren’t actually allowed to settle into that feeling, more let it graze across the surface like a pill induced stupor.
We’re the new aged druggies, and love is our pill of choice. Hard to swallow and painful in its after-effects, but god if it isn’t the best feeling in the world for those few, blissful moments that it drowns you.
I sound depressed, but I’m not. It’s more a reality creeping in– I’m actually quite happy in my life right now, I have a boyfriend who loves me, and though our life isn’t where we want it, it’s still something I love more than I ever thought I could– just having someone who loves you is such a gift that that should take over all the bad feelings, and it does. It makes it all sting a bit less– but the reality of the situation is, someday it’ll end, whether we break up or one of us dies, or something… that’s the reality, sadly. When you die, you leave behind people who love you, and they get to pick up the pieces… and one day that’s going to be me.
It’s probably too late for me to be having thoughts like this, or maybe too early. Guess I should try sleep again.