Acid.

Ive thought about writing in here, something, anything, for a while now but i'm at a place where I want to write and i want it badly, but i want to write uninhibitedly, unabashedly, about every thought i have. Every offensive, irrational, shady thought. But i can't. And when i can't do that, it seems like, what's the point? Its an itch i can't scratch. But i recall, i used to have a way of writing about the most mundane things and sneaking in a heavy phrase or two here and there so that only I knew what it meant and the weight it carried.
I am such a restless spirit. I might make a new blog. Okay enough with the intros. For now, the mission is to write. Just write.


Just finished watching Little Women. What a wonderful second half. Saoirse Ronan is a joy to watch. There was especially this one scene. Well there were a number of scenes, but this one scene in particular where she says:

Women. They have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they’ve got ambition. And they’ve got talent as well as just beauty. And I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for. I’m so sick of it. But I’m so lonely!

And then she cries.
And then there was this other quote by George Elliot, but i won't mention it here cuz i can't google it. It was about childhood and innocence, or thats what i'm assuming it was about.

Im not very nice. I mean I'm nice. But not that nice. And often these days, I feel there is no place for the part of me that is not nice. Thoughts i'm not proud of.  Its not about niceness actually. Im talking about all the difficult unpleasant irrational unattractive parts of me. All my angst, and anger and frustrations. My anxiety over the most inane things. My almost fixation over the most inane things. My impatience. My overwhelming sensitivity, and my inability to do anything about it. My heart, my stupid sinking forever heavy heart. Part of it at least. My weakness. My ineptitude. Is that a word? Seems so. Self doubt. Laziness. Indifference. Coldness. My instinct to retract, retreat, relinquish at the slightest resistance. My tendency to delude myself into thinking i'm someone I'm not. My incessant guilt over not acting on things and not doing things that i imagine my ideal self to be doing and saying. That ideal self. That..that idea. That version of me. Its all in my head. And there is such disparity, God there is such disparity between who i am and who(whom?) i identify as. There is. Well. The point is. I feel there is no space for all these parts of me. Anywhere. And I don't know what to do with my thoughts. Whom to reveal them to. People i love and people who love me? But Being vulnerable is hard. It can make you feel very very small. And then you can't take it back. And you've relinquished some control. That you can't take back. That's a feeling i don't like. I have more to say on it, but maybe later. Probably, most surely. Probably.

Hmm. Writing has unexpectedly helped. Don't know how long this will last, but for now it is. Ah, but what i want to do is rant. Really rant. I have been, to some people. But there's always some sort of filter. And that's on me. Partially.
Im just absolutely sick of so many things. What should i do? Really. What should i do? Something has ignited inside me. I can feel it. And i have been feeling the embers for a while now. But now, i can feel a little flame. A proper little flame. And i don't know what to do with it.

I tried therapy. 2 sessions. And then i abandoned that as well.

I think it's going to take a number of posts to calm me down. For now, im going to go ahead and post this one. No spell check. No nothing.