The Dragon Inside

 Tuesday December 16th 8:04 am 

One week the world feels full of possibilities and the next it becomes infinitely closed. The common denominator? My imagination, or lack thereof. I randomly decided to start watching the Ted Bundy movie, after seeing Zac Efron pre-surgery. It starts with a quote, “Very few have the imagination to see reality as it is.” 

Someone asked me, “Why can’t reality be whatever you want it to be?” I wish I told him the reality I wanted, the reality I was beginning to imagine. What do you do when your reality always includes other people? Why does my reality always need to include other people? 

Being in love is the strongest desire of my heart. I normally say adventure, and I suppose, now that I think of it, love must seem like the greatest adventure of all to me. That’s what they say anyway. Is love the greatest adventure of all? 

Maybe it’s the greatest adventure because of how hard it is to achieve, and how unpredictable it can be. And the fact that it can end in caring for another creature until you die, another completely unpredictable and difficult being. 

I keep thinking that I know what I truly want and I’m just too afraid to listen. I’m sick of creating lives in my mind that include people who don’t think of me at all. Or at least, probably not in the same way. I want to start imagining a life for myself. Do my next couple years really need to include anyone but me? Or the next few months, if I can’t handle further than that? 

For the next couple of months, when I’m lonely, I’m going to hug myself. I’m going to meditate. I’m going to imagine myself climbing to the top of a mountain peak and jumping off and transforming into a dragon and flying over the places I hope to see one day. Is being in someone’s arms really more special than that? 

I want to focus on myself. I need to focus on myself. I want answers, I want peace, I want my path chosen and I want to accept it. I want to love myself more than anything. I want to trust myself. I want to live a life full of confidence. No more closed possibilities, just reality, and the knowledge that I can be who I want when I want. 

Beauty and the Pain

 

Thursday December 11th 10:20 p.m. 

Life is so silly. It makes sense that we laugh when a clown bonks his head. It reminds us that the unexpected constantly occurs. We feel safe because we know he didn’t really hurt himself. Still, we watched his face shift, his stance change, and we could imagine he felt something different than the moment before. 

When I got home today and flicked on the light switch, nothing happened. My lamp didn’t turn on either, and the light in my fridge did not give a flicker. I accepted that my power was out when, alas, my eyes fell on my once green and now dull wifi router. 

I texted, and I must admit, called my landlady. I’ve been asking her for weeks how to pay the bill. She told me she would work it out, so I went on with my night. I swam and played basketball. I know when I go home I should just join a gym, it’s just sad that it won’t be outside. 

One of the kids, or men, I’m still not sure, was playing in slides and holey socks that his two largest toes escaped out of. I just thought that was funny, and it made it even more funny that he plays pretty well.

It was supposed to take 2-3 hours for my power to get turned back on. It probably did, but there happened to be a lack of communication. So by the time I was done exercising for my third hour that day, I still was under the impression that my power was out. Needless to say, I was peeved.

My first reaction to being peeved; I want to tell someone. I want to call or text someone and tell them what’s going on. Instead, I decided to tell myself what I would want someone else to tell me in this situation. I said, “I’m sorry, I know this is so frustrating. Any challenge, big or small, will help you grow. At this moment, you are becoming more adaptable.” Those aren’t the exact words but you get the point.

So I had all of these plans of what I would do when I got back; I’d read my book and charge my phone (in a plug somewhere in the building, sans my landlady’s advice). My plan beforehand was to come home and practice my songs, and I was bummed that that would have to wait, possibly til “Before 10 pm.” I really need to get some sleep tonight so that worried me. I thought I could just charge my phone and then practice in my warm, dark, dank, sulfurous chamber. 

I felt better after my little pep talk. Someone didn’t hold the door for me when I got back to my apartment and that made me a little upset, and I told myself they must’ve been absorbed in whatever they were doing. Then I got in the elevator and dropped my Hydroflask on my toe, which I have never done before in all of my, what, 12 years of using them. 

At this point I laughed, I laughed at all of the emotions I had gone through in the last 10 minutes. All of the rage, to comfort, to calm, to frustrated, to offended, to pain. When you acknowledge every bit of your experience, it all becomes so fleeting. 

We say that change is a part of life; I think that motion is life. We cannot exist without the movement of a muscle, of signals, of blood. To think that we cannot feel or coexist with this motion is “blasphemous,” I don’t like that word and it felt right. 

I am worried that I am entering another cycle that will lead me to great pain. I’m coming to a lot of conclusions that I did during my manic-possibly-drug-induced psychosis. At least I know that if it all comes crashing down again, I’m at least capable of surviving it.

The next morning: I saw a bird pick a flower off a bush and fly away, then I looked down and saw a squished mouse in a pile of blood.

Lonely Body

 Tuesday December 9th 9:33 a.m.

I didn’t think I would feel cool air for months. I didn’t think I would smell the comforting burn piles of winter. Yet, here I am. Most days I catch wind of something being sent back to the earth. Each morning, I feel the air prickle on my skin and ease me into the world. 

Last night it hit me just how lonely I am. I’ve been working on pausing and feeling my emotions. When I laid down for bed I noticed that my heart began to beat faster, the opposite of what anyone wants at that time. I thought of the possible opinions the people around me might think about me. 

Eventually I asked myself, what are you really feeling/ thinking right now? I want to be accepted. I want people to like me. Then, as the pain in my chest became more prominent and localized, it hit me that all of these thoughts were trying to mask how lonely I felt.

I have a lot of different feelings in my chest, and this one was different from those. It was much sharper and it rang out in another tone. Normally my pains are off to the left, or the right, up higher or down lower. This one was the closest to the middle I have noticed, since I’ve started noticing. 

I’ve been having Christian sing me to sleep most nights. I decided not to tonight, to let the loneliness spread through me, to try to cope with it on my own. I had a dream before I left about how the loneliness of being here would feel. I was laying on a bed, anxious, and feeling like people could easily watch me, and they could because I was in a small room with the curtains open. 

In real life, it was different. Yes, I was anxious. But I wasn’t as afraid. I knew what was happening. I could think of solutions. I could remind myself that my loved ones are only a call away. I could remind myself that I am my own, that I can always comfort myself. It’s still hard for me to fully grasp how one can be complete on their own. 

I can sing myself a song (and I did). I can run my hands over my arms, I can massage my scalp. I can tell myself that everything will be okay. I can feel my body, every inch of it. Only I can feel what’s going on inside of me, and what in the world could be more intimate than that? 

As I was falling asleep, I thought about how we think, and speak our thoughts to ourselves through our heads. I imagined speaking through my feet, my chest, my neck, my stomach, everywhere. I imagined a mouth speaking out of all of these places. Why do all of our thoughts come from our minds, when our whole body is working to transmit the messages? 

I’m telling you all of this from my mind right now, yet my hands are bringing these thoughts into reality. I’m a little bit afraid of trusting my entire body, like if I entangle my soul with the rest of me I will become trapped in it eternally. My argument to that is that no matter what religion you believe, for the most part, the body is seen as a vessel. And I think, as such, we are allowed to inhabit every inch of it, and use it to experience this world to the fullest.

Dancing 'Til I'm DEAD

 Sunday November 2nd 2:38 pm 

I felt a little antsy when I woke up. I told myself that I could still have a slow wake up despite this and it's been really pleasant. I called my mom, told my brother happy birthday, and edited a video. Yesterday I stayed inside all day, today I’ll at least do my laundry (because I don’t have another option).

Going out on Friday was so fun. Some of it was overwhelming; the crowds, the same songs being played at most clubs, feelings of insecurity. Anytime a thought would come up I’d ask myself “Is this really what you want to be thinking about right now?” The answer would be no, and then I would focus on something else, like the music or the pretty lights. 

One of the highlights of the night happened before we got to Khaosan road. Some Thai people were playing music and dancing around their food cart. Someone in our group started dancing too, and soon we were all dancing. They extended their hands to us and we touched and they told us Happy Halloween. As we were walking away someone said they were mourning their queen. 

I never thought it would matter to me, I thought that I would feel the same about Thai people that I feel about anyone else. But whenever a Thai person acknowledged me I would get so excited. It felt like the popular kid was talking to me. I don’t want to be weird and treat Thai people like museum artifacts, or be curious about them like a doctor from the 1800’s. I’m trying to understand why it’s so exciting to talk to them. 

Maybe it just feels like I’m fitting in when they talk to me. Like maybe I’m more than just a stranger. 

A thought I had is that I want to be an “it” girl. That Jason Derulo song has been playing in my head for days. I want to be the center of attention and be comfortable with that spot. When I got to my colleagues apartment I went to the bathroom and told myself “You can do this. You can be bubbly. You can be fun.” And then I made sure to try my best to interject into conversations. 

Lady Gaga said that she would act like she was famous well before she was. I want to be unapologetically myself. I still want to be balanced, I want to be who I want to be when I want to be. I’ve met some great, big, beautiful personalities here, and I’ve wondered if it’s just enough to live vicariously through those kinds of people. Or maybe, we can all have our moments.