05 december 2021
i wish i could cry right now, i think.
i was trying to write this earlier but i gave up on it. or, i just wasn't able to keep writing it, for whatever reason.
i have so many things i wish i could articulate. i think that the passage of time is one of my greatest fears. which is weird to say, i suppose. let me try to contextualize it.
this is ridiculously vulnerable for a website and blog that i have shown to a) my current partner and b) someone i consider a close friend from the internet that was part of my life as far back as middle school. and i think there's a certain paradox in this. i want this place - i want myself, in a sense - to be private, anonymized. i don't want to be seen. i'm so scared, for so many reasons. yet i share this place - the link to this feels page, as well - with people who know me, who see me. and with all of town, too, with people who i'm making friends with, who i hope to become closer with, a community that i breathe within. anybody who chooses to read these, and knowing from experience that people do read these, can see so much of who i am, and i'm questioning and experimenting with that experience -- you can see so much of who i am, but it's still ridiculously limited, and i'm doing these for myself first and always, and it's not my top priority to entertain or keep an audience in mind. it's there, yes. but i am my own target audience.
anyway. my earliest parts of existence, my early teens, honestly just a lot of middle school, going into early high school, was waiting. was passing the time, waiting, hoping for other times to come. was waiting, waiting. waiting out the time until the suffering would lighten. waiting for lighter days, waiting, because my age was the limiting factor in restricting my freedom under my absuser. i counted the months till i'd no longer be legally a minor. i had no idea the circumstances that i would pass my 18th birthday under, when it did come. i just remember such a feeling of waiting. endless time that would pass, surely, proved it would pass time and time again. and it did pass. no matter how much or how little changed, i watched it pass, but as long as i was under that abuser, i was waiting. i was waiting for change.
and change surely happened. and then this year, in different context, even after turning 18, i was waiting. i turned 18 as the pandemic started. more waiting. everybody, now, waiting, in the same sense of being trapped inside, waiting, just like i was, just like the only thing i'd really known, really been comfortably familiar with.
waiting, so sure something specific was coming, so sure that something would change, that i would be right about it, proven right and delivered into a new situation... so shocked when things weren't how i pictured them. in good or bad connotations, i was used to being right, and i wasn't always right. and what a thing to adjust to, seriously.
and now i'm in a situation that i like. that i adore, really. i don't think my partner keeps up with this space (i showed her on my own laptop and i doubt she memorized the link) and in any case it's doubtful she's read this far (i mean, maybe she would, probably would if she was here, but i really just... that's the thing about digital performance, isn't it? never sure if anyone in particular is watching or has watched or will watch.) anyway. i keep stumbling over my words. i'm at the point where i want to tell her that i love her, but i'm just so... the words get stuck in my throat. i'm sure i'll find a way to just be direct and express it when i feel better about the timing. i'm just incredibly nervous, and my last situationship informs so many of my anxieties and fears.
and i'm terrified because time doesn't just pass when you're in danger and need to get from point a to point b. time passes as relentlessly and ruthlessly no matter the individual experience. and maybe this just stems from a history of seeing the passage of time as something to ignore, dissociate from, to fixate on point b and make it real in my mind before the time fully passes to get there. and then to be surprised when my fabricated point b doesn't look like the reality of my present life when i arrive. so i miss out on the idea of passing days, enjoying days, living in full attention to where i am now, to what i experience before me.
maybe it's early to call, but i'm already scared of the idea of letting go. knowing that from my point in time, it's nowhere near close, but still... time is fucky, and my perception of time is fucky, and it gives me a lot of fear when multiplied by my insecurities.
i have a lot on my mind and plenty i'd like to try to put into words but it is 2am and i have a date tomorrow. and i will enjoy the day as it happens.