It's late in the evening
I'm not wondering what clothes to wear
I sit in the darkness, braiding my long red hair
And then he asks me, "Do you feel all right?"
And I say, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight"
Or do I?
Tonight has been intense. All highs and lows. Or actually.. Mostly a huge high, but not unexpected I'm now dropping like a stone. I probably would have gotten some sort of drop no matter what, being tired and having had a really intense play session. But I made it worse by hurting someone I care about. And right now, all the guys that l care deeply for are either busy or asleep. So I write. It's how I deal with stuff.
Sometimes it feels like whenever I try to share something of mine... Try to share the joy, the love, the life that I feel/think/experience... I end up hurting someone.
Is this just the drop speaking? Probably. That doesn't make it any less unpleasant, though.
I worry about writing these very words. I'll probably hurt someone by giving details of my awesome play session tonight... But I'll probably also hurt someone by not writing about it. And if I write of this funk that I'm currently in, and all the elements that combined to cause it, I might also cause someone pain. So this blog post will cause pain by being positive, and cause pain by being negative. It's like no matter what I do, it's wrong for someone.
I guess I could refrain from writing anything at all. That might hurt me, in the end. Maybe that's preferable?
Why would I hurt? Because I need this blog. To think. To process. To document. To go back and read through stuff from earlier and go "man, what I crazy back then" or "wow, I guess I really have changed" and sometimes "hm, guess I wasn't as stupid as I thought I was".
I need it because writing helps me go through things, helps me get in touch with my feelings and figure them out. Unravel the chaos, and wind them all up on spools... Separate by colour, material and weight. Crying from an overwhelming mess of emotions feels like adding chaos to the mess, making more knots and tangles. Crying while writing this feels better. Cathartic, cleansing. Like a balm.
But my comfort is not worth hurting the people I love. Maybe I should write, and not publish?
No, I think that would feel fake to me... Like I could go back and change it at any time. Also, I couldn't go back and read through it in the same way. I couldn't sort them by categories and keywords, I couldn't do word searches, couldn't cross-reference and link, or add pictures. Not without making a completely different system for my notes, and using some kind of cloud program with an inbuilt archiving system (like a blog?)... And changing to a whole new system just doesn't feel worth it. I think it would be easier not to write at all, and damn my personal consequences.
Gah, I don't know. Feels like I'm running in circles, each argument countering the previous one. Can't decide, can't think.
Tea, a blanket and simple entertainment (my usual recipe for drops) doesn't seem to work. Writing doesn't really seem to work.
I'll just leave this as it is, and come back to it later. Maybe I can make more sense of it then... Or maybe it will all feel different tomorrow and I'll write my own rebuttal then.
"I feel wonderful because I see
The love light in your eyes
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don't realize how much I love you"