it’s 7:36am. And I wonder if the general malaise I have been feeling of late Is me being sick of me. No, no, not in a harm myself way, more a tired of my patterns.
i often say that Anne of green gables is my literary doppelgänger. That is because the character has a vivid imagination and can build castles and fantasies and then realize that those are illusion.
I’m sick of my dreaming right now. I have had some marvelous ones. Many of which have come to be real in some shape or form. But. But... but... *sigh* it’s me again. And when things don’t go as I had hoped they were —in many many many aspects of my life- I can see why they stop where they do. And what my part is in it. And I cannot change the past.
So I’ve had an incredible summer building plans and testing out versions of my dreams and somehow I feel I am plopped right back where I started. Older, wiser, and facing reality.
i am not Wonder Woman, or a Hindu avatar. Just a lady who likes mud and has left so many freaking muddy messes in her past/recent past that I am a deflated balloon sick of myself.
What I won’t do it give up. That is a behavior of alcoholic xtina. What I will do is the next right thing and move through the day and hopefully work hard and have some laughs.