I'm not actually excited or anything about spring. I'm one hundred percent sure that my very being is fueled by cold, I can invite cold and welcome it and I can thrive in it but it seems that this year cold was only a passing stranger and not at all the comforting acquaintance that I've come to cherish. This winter it did not bring any comfort. Maybe I was waiting a little bit too aggressively and actually seeking it out. Maybe that was the reason why it didn't work this time. Or maybe, just maybe I can't be comforted anymore.
I tell myself that it's a phase and of course it is. What else could it be?
I just have to stand up and leave this room and initiate and start everything that I am yearning for.
But that sounds so much better in my head.
I cannot for the life of me fathom why my body won't move according to the laws dictated by my head.
It's like I'm so deeply rooted here, in this place, that legions of lumberjacks couldn't cut me down.
That sounds terrible.
I sound silly.
I sound hesitant.
I sound
scared.
I guess I'll have to own my issues and struggle through them.
I just can't start.
Nowadays, whenever I write something I always feel like I'm very cryptic and vague.
I'm sure that if I describe actual happenings then someone will know.
I kid myself of course and I know that's ridiculous because this is private.
I wish I could keep more to myself but I also wish that I could share more of myself.
So I guess it all comes down to the fact that I'm pretty lonely.
Am I having an existential crisis?
And if I had one of those would I be aware?
Anyway I'm pretty sure that this is the lamest phase.
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