2 o'clock in the morning, something's on my mind.
Can't get no rest; keep walkin' around.
If I pretend that nothin' ever went wrong, I can get to my sleep,
I can think that we just carried on.
- Mika, Happy Ending
-+-
"You really take a lot from life, Christa."
"I don't know if I do, but... I try to."
-+-
I've been taking a break to just let myself be lonely for a change.
The great thing about weak moments is that they're just that -- they're moments.
It runs in my kin to be susceptible to mental fragility, but luckily, I've recently been blessed with the gift of transience.
My year has been rough so far. It seems and feels like I have kicked off the year with three weeks of mistakes. Parts of my life are involuntarily living in the fast lane, while other aspects are just as undesirably dead in the water. It makes it difficult to concentrate on how perfect everything can be, and how gorgeous everything actually is. The sun is shining through the overcast and is kissing my cheek with delicate, minute amounts of warmth, yet I've spent too long feeling unsettled to properly appreciate it. But even then, I'd still be doomed if not for these silver linings.
It's not even a clear feeling, it's not a definite sensation. I just haven't been feeling... just right. There is a pathology in my blood that I can't seem to diagnose, but it doesn't satisfy me to just let this virus continue to course through my veins.
For example, I've spent weeks being unable to cry. It's one thing to spend weeks not crying, but another thing to be unable to. Even when tears do touch my cheeks, I feel no connection between the sensations and my emotions. Even when I was feeling so low, so fragile, and so burnt out, I just couldn't manage to cry. I'm currently in the process of rebuilding my wick, and I'm immensely thankful for every ounce of recovery that comes my way. But I am still perturbed. If I can hold so much empathy for others, why can't I feel anything for myself?
This month has just been both so similar to and so unlike my last seven months of explosive change and evolution.
But there's more at stake now, and it frightens me. I've learned that my heart is not encased in platinum - it is flesh, and that fact is bewildering me. I've been stricken into over-protection. Ignorance is bliss, and thus, awareness brings fear and worry. I've begun to see flaws in my attitude, and I'm struggling to adjust. I still don't understand how to not give unconditionally, and I still must absorb that not all opportunities are opportunities to be seized. I still need to understand that sometimes, coincidences must simply be left as coincidences.
It's so hard though. I'm so used to giving away everything I am, everything that I possibly have to give. But I've finally tasted what it is like to give too much, and it is a terror that has been proving impossible to reel back from. I feel as if I've been welted with wounds irreparable. With burns that will only scar into deformity.
It makes me wonder -
am I taking a break in loneliness,
or am I confining myself to quarantine?