My tongue is in my hand…

Archive for May 2011

Posted on: May 27, 2011

I’m afraid I’m going to run out of wine

I’m afraid you never read the things I write

All the things that press on me, that press upon me, press into this: I want to be able to easily sum up for you what it was to grow up how I grew up, all it did to me, all it meant. I want to smoothly and fully explain, let you see why I made certain decisions I made, all the clockwork behind the scenes, why I did or didn’t do certain things, why I am where I am, I want to show that I know I am not where I should be, but I have a good defense for how I ended up here.

But there are always far too many words. As if I feel I bear this burden of proof and I have to pull out all the evidence of my life. It never comes out right, I can never get the whole picture into one clean scene.

So no one knows what I want them to know, what I need them to see. About who I am and who I seem. About where I was going and where I ended up. About what I learned. About why it’s so hard to move from where I am.

I just feel ashamed, I guess. I recognize my inauthenticity. I know myself. I know all these things that I can’t tell because I just can’t figure out how.

I know it would change everything if I were really who I was. I have no idea if that would be good. But I think I would feel free.

Posted on: May 21, 2011

the world is melting around me. i can not be, there are so many things that i can not be.

i read too many blogs sometimes that aren’t for me, that aren’t to people like me. they are blogs for different kinds of people and when i read them i feel completely wrong. i feel as if there are a million things wrong with me for not being able to be however it is i can’t be.

sometimes, it’s dangerous how many things we can be exposed to. sometimes instead of enriching the world, it seems to show how many ways there are to be wrong in the world. you read a comment section to a news article or blog and you see all these opinions.

as much as i love all the great things i can see, it makes me long for the time in my life when it was just me and the woods.

i have to shake the rest off.

let the world melt.


Posted on: May 18, 2011

Sometimes, there is just this restlessness. I don’t know what to do with it. I feel antsy and trapped. I feel like I can never really breathe, like I’m waiting for something…something to set me free. I feel like I have no place to be. I feel groundless, but not in a way that is okay.

I feel like I’m just biding my time until I can do what I’m really supposed to be doing. Nothing fits, nothing feels right, there is an unrest. I don’t know what to do with that, where to go with that. It unravels me. It makes me feel not okay with no rhyme or reason to why, or what, or how. I feel like there is something upon me that I need to shake off and I’m too apprehensive to do this, too fearful of the repercussions. Fearful maybe that I will shake the wrong thing off? Or do it the wrong way, at the wrong time? I don’t know, I just don’t feel well.

Part of me wants to crawl into bed and call in sick (from my whole entire life) but the other part of me is pushing me to keep trying to figure this out.

I’m afraid it will end with me breaking down in a parking lot somewhere.

Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do?

And I don’t know why I have to write it out, I don’t know why I have to post it. But I do. Ridiculous.

Can someone carry me?

I am here, years upon me that I’ve yet to even live

and I’m tired




Perhaps this is the only way

to get me to lay in green pastures

I’m just not sure how much I trust that

I’m just not sure

why I can’t believe

someone’s going to take care of me

perhaps it’s all the times I don’t see it, can’t feel it, all the people I see needing.

Why should I believe I won’t be left wanting?

I can’t even think, can’t even reason, can’t even feel anything about this anymore. I am just lingering on the edge of belief. Of trying. Why try when the world falls apart minute by minute? Why move at all? I’ll maybe stay here. Just a few more minutes. This world pushes me into anxiety. Into the throes of decisions I’m tired of making, tasks I’m tired of completing, hoops I just can’t get myself to jump through anymore. Aren’t I too young to feel so so old inside?Aren’t I too young to give up?

I feel done. But I can’t stop. What’s going to come of that?