Some stream of consciousness written a couple of weeks ago…
Never before have I felt so chaotic. I’ve become a person I thought unreachable: someone who loses her sense of time because she’s having too much fun, doesn’t second guess what she’s doing and doesn’t care for where she’s going too much. If I were to leave my body and take a look at myself I’d imagine a great hurricane turning around me. It catches my breath and pulls it away, but I’ve forgotten letting go by the time I’m drawing in again. Sometimes I see myself conflicted. I’m not sure whether or not to love this; wanting to be everything and nothing all at once. Tonight I looked through my earliest blog posts, because I want to do a little blog tidying and remove any content that no longer fits this blogs purpose or that I would now rather keep privately. Oh my they are sweet, some of these things I used to write. The posts stir up memories I didn’t realise I’d made so well. That’s the absolute beauty of journaling in any form
– writing, photographs – you always have these little pieces of you to remind yourself what made time worth spending. I have to speak those words to myself sometimes: time’s worth spending.
Everything changes and I struggle to comprehend that, speaking honestly. I think as a writer the hardest part is not being able to describe who I am right now. There’s a sense of pride in being able to put words on intangible things. I love feeling like I’ve found the right words. But at the moment they’re not coming easily when I call. As though I’m both drowned in and numbed by emotion all at once.