Chaos

Too much or not enough? Too much I'd say, I guess, maybe?

Weird shit happens all too often right now. My mind is at this point so fucked it's hard to know which way's up. I try to block out that part of my brain, I try so hard it drives me crazy sometimes. They say you should be true to yourself and embrace all of your sides, I can't do that right now. I can't think if I act that way, I can't embrace a part that drags me down, makes me evil again, I just can't.

Whatever.

Not a day goes by that I don't think about the consequences of my actions, what things could have gotten so much better had I just acted differently, but I've learned not to have regrets because, honestly, what's done is done. All you can do afterwards is try to look ahead, make it all count somehow and try to be better. Some things could have been so much worse, though. Had I not met Marcus, Malin and Charlie I don't know where I'd be today.

How many of the people we meet do we actually remember, how many faces on the subway burn into your very core to make an impression? How many times do we study the souls that we pass, the lines across their faces, the long stories that build them? Think to ourselves how much the babies cradled in their parents arms have in front of them and take a long, relieved or regretful breath while doing so? How many times do we actually have to remind ourselves how lucky we are that we aren't buried in the shit some are or how sad we are we couldn't have done things just a little better, just a little differently and all the times after that would have been better?

I can't be her, she's not me. She's someone I made up in order to have some way of balance in the midst of the chaos. Still... She feels so much more like me than I do. Like some schizo she's the strong personality, the one that doesn't give a shit, that waves away the pain like flies, like an annoyance, a temporary inconvenience. She lets nothing touch her, like a statue she walks the halls with a confidence that makes people move without even looking. My hero. She's not like me, who has to move even when standing still because people walk straight ahead, not even aknowledging my existance, who sheds tears to movies and lets everything move her constantly so much so that it eventually breaks her down. I don't want to be her, she doesn't know how to feel. But at the same time I want nothing else.

//Em