Sea foam green

In life I like to pretend that I don't require much to survive, that when it comes down to it I'd be content to a cup of tea and sand between my extraordinarily cute toes, unpolished of course. I'd like to believe that I am not demanding, controlling, intimidating, or judgmental. I wish I'd be better at letting things go, not worrying so much? But none of that is anywhere close to where I stand in reality. I have high expectations of others and even higher ones of myself. My life is fantastically unorganized and disastrous while managing to somehow emit some sort of hopeless façade of transparent perfection.

In recent weeks I spend each day just trying to make it to the next hour and while they have been perhaps the most frustrating times of my little life they have produced more self satisfaction and reassurance than even my most victorious moments. And while moments like this seem hellacious, I often look back on them fondly. Consciously witnessing ones own failure and struggle is something powerful.

Right now I'm close to some sort of bottom and I'm not sure why. I feel alone in mind and body. I'm without even a friend who could possibly contemplate what goes on in my mind from day to day. I'm no longer surrounded by people who think and feel and process in any way similar to me, at least if they do, they don't realize it. There isn't a soul I can be honest with, not a face I dare not show a smile, not a single person whose simple presence is reassuring. I miss all of that. It seems like a life that is so far away, a way of being that I haven't come close to approaching in so long.

So instead I find solace in books and my own delusional thoughts, knowing that someday I'll find people who are like that again. If not now, maybe later.