Sep. 10th, 2016

demakat: (pinefresh)
I always feel like I need to write down when I'm happy. Like I can capture it in a mason jar, to look at when ever I feel sad. As with all kinds of hokey things, that's not where the happiness lives.

I just finished with the comic Are You My Mother? by Alison Bechdel. I missed a lot, I can tell. I have never read Virginia Woolf, and I haven't studied psychology hardly at all. The idea came across though, especially near the end when her mother mentions the book being a meta book. Now though I can't help but compare it with one of my now painfully awkward friendships. Thankfully my brain is not letting me get too far, gently telling me "She is not your mother". It sounds so absurd to have to tell yourself that, but when you were so enmeshed with someone and then suddenly aren't. It does mirror many people's relationships with their mothers.

I feel a little guilty that I'm not torrentially emotional about this fight-thing. Apparently my friend was. It's hard to meet someone's anguish with composure, and then additionally say the things they've been asking for.

I remember playing with a friend when I was little. Before Junior High for sure. I was kind of cheesily connecting with things like the wind and whatever else. He essentially told me I was being a weirdo. It's hard not to see it as foreshadowing when I look back. Eventually his dad told him he couldn't play with girls anymore some time after that. So is this time of seeing things, and connecting and feeling happy mean that there is change happening? There's no real way to say. I'm sure whatever does happen could be bent as I saw fit to fulfill what I want. Thankfully I won't likely remember this later, or I'll assemble things differently.

I am a little sad that I didn't have the words at the time to call bullshit on the can't play with girls thing. I may have in some way, I remember being angry about it and fighting with him.

This exchange might be faster if we didn't live many states away from one another. My current friend and I fighting, or not fighting but not yet making up. No one is sure how to proceed. I need more time, I will be taking more time, and that will be new and different than in the last few years. I didn't use to have to take the time, I use to just endure life until it deposited me in the empty pockets where I could be myself again. Now though, it's like youth, something you have to actively cultivate because the pockets of empty time don't pass by so frequently anymore.

I have no idea what I'm doing. That's kind of the good part.




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