some days, like today, I can almost believe I am getting my smell back. It almost seems like I am smelling wet grass and the remnants of some chocolate in my car- I love chocolate and eat too much of it.
when this happens I get almost giddy with the thought that this poor lost sense may return. Is this my studio I smell? Old warehouse, oil, wood dust and clay?
And then I remember I have a hot cup of coffee, hold it hopefully against my nose and... nada.
things like this make me so sad, and lonely and small. Me, a mere insignificant speck on the earth whose fucked her body up through accident or addiction that senses are no longer functioning at full capacity.
god, what a shit show.
im trying to change the pattern of me writing this blog. Late at night I don’t want to rely on. I want to go to sleep before midnight and get some good zzz’s before my alarm goes off.
And now the aaaack, how do I write what I want to write. My heart has feelings that are not returned as I would wish. last night a friend reached out with their loneliness seeking a friend and I cannot do what they wish.
It is such a strange place to be in. Like my smell. It becomes a mirage. Maybe I am experiencing?!?!? But alas, no.
my therapist is working with me to get me to feel my feelings and not block, close or laugh them off as I am wont to do. And this morning, when it is just me, drinking the coffee I cannot smell, with the mirage aroma of wet grass lingering in my brain by some pseudo-synesthesia fluke I am just so sad. Missing those I love and have lost so darn much. And missing the stories I have built in my head over the years that still are there, just have faded as if a pen and hand ran out of ink and energy.
i wonder if, by trying to remain anonymous I have been unintentionally hiding myself in this blog. Giving the surface but not the depth. The joy I have felt and expressed is honest and real. I just have not expressed as fully as I could the feelings and emotions roiling beneath about many a thing.
ok. Time to sand plates.