||[May. 9th, 2011|10:27 am]
I don't latch quite like I used to. My laziness is starting to permeate every corner of my world, and dates with promise get a shrug and a casual text. Breakups get a shrug and a casual text. Every day, my tan gets better. I smoke cigarettes in my chaise and conduct imaginary orchestras. I throw my hands up and smile and lip-synch along every time Dax Riggs sings "Say 'Goodnight' to the world!!" I need to clean but I'd rather dig and build. I need to be out on fifty dates but I'd rather clean. I enjoy the incredulous tone of the question "how do you like letting your hair go gray?"
I fail at something daily, I falter weekly, I backslide monthly, and some nights I can't think of anything i actually *want* to do besides get fucked up, which leads to sleeping early and long.
The simplicity and clarity of my emotions and desires borders on the painful, like a cloudless Montana morning in the dead of winter. I can shift them aside in a haze of sunshine and the oily mist of sunscreen on my sunglasses. I can blur the borders, turn them pastel, impressionistic.
I can't seek to deny my emotions and desires. I'm too grown up for such fakery and I can't pretend I don't know who I am. I have a bottomless ocean of love to give and what feels like a very limited time to find a lucky recipient. The perceived deadline does not move me to action, only to anxiety. Conversely, the red wine moves me to honesty and languid observation with no judgment. Saying goodnight to the world seems almost healthy sometimes. Goodnight to the things I can't change, goodnight to the way I think things should be, goodnight to the demons of loss and regret and mistakes and what-ifs and if-onlys and should-haves and would-haves...