So I’ve been sick the last couple of days.

And now I have new wants.

I’m still moving closer to all of those goals, they inch closer as I cross others off the list.

But food. Something has happened. My relationship with it has become dangerous and pointless. All pleasure.

I need to eat for fuel again. I need to stop watching tv while I eat. I need to DO more yoga, not just teach it. Who knew that could ever be a problem? I need to destroy these finals. For now, I think my grades are projected for A, A, B, B, and a C. Funny. But I can live with that. I might be able to pull one more A, but I might also end up with a C- instead of that C, and that would set me back a lot of time, and a lot of money.

I want to be more active, got I want to. I miss being determined, drinking that full bottle of water right when I woke up to hydrate, oatmeal for breakfast, lunch already packed, productive. Dinner has always been a mystery, something I need to fix.

It’s good to reassess. To reexamine goals. That’s how I’ve come this far. 

And I need to be honest with myself. I’m falling back into some dark habits, stealing time, tiny white lies that are foolish excuses. I promised to try and be honest a long time ago, to live honestly, but god, it get’s so hard.

But I know that they are becoming numerous, because I have to be careful about what I say, treading with caution in conversations to remember what was said to whom. This is me being honest with myself. I’m tired of excuses. Tired of living like this. It’s not bad, but it is dishonest, exhausting, fulfilling and haunting.

I have all these titles, things I’m outwardly proud of, but not if they are empty. I think I’m a little too content, while yearning for things that I’m not willing to work for. But now I feel that hunger….. As always, it returns. And I need to do something about it.

La Météo

C’est comme mes sentiments aujourd’hui. Je suis triste encore. Il ne finit jamais. Je ne comprend pas. J’ai mal au cœur. Je regard à la pluie et je pense rien. Où et ma passion?

Je suis si seul. Il fait mal. Je ne sais pas si je veux être seul où si je veux être avec quelqu’un.

J’ai doute, j’ai peur.

Encore, et encore.

Je pense que j’ai besoin de parler en français pour un petit peu. J’éspere qu’en écrivant plus je peux être mieux. C’est possible.

J’ai des problemes d’affaires, et des problemes de l’argent. Mon prêt d’étudiant était annulé. Je ne sais pas quoi je ferai. Je pense que il sera bien, mais il sera difficile. Je pleurais hier. Quand je pleure, je ne peux pas regarder les yeux de mon petit ami. J’ai honte qu’il est trop difficile d’être une étudiante. Mais c’est aussi ma faute.

J’ai peur, mais pas beaucoup. C’est en plus comme un… n’il y a pas un mot pour ça, comme je veux.

J’ai une tasse du thé rose maintenant. Elle est très bonne… C’est mon nuit, avec devoir et moi-même.

Dreams are Weird

The remnants of emotion afterwards are strange. Even if you can’t remember, there is always that shadow, that lingering, “something” that seems to hang over you for the next few hours. I won’t lie, sometimes I get a little caught up in it.

Like today, haha. I watched a sad movie last night, slept without my love, woke up kind of sad from some dream, and then chose to listen to sad, beautiful music.

But I’m lucky, lucky to be able to sit here and just experience an augmented sadness not caused by anything in particular. It’s not one those days where I’m in the dumps, really.

But I feel achy for something truly beautiful. I miss writing. I miss paint and glitter and ridiculous poetry. Just for now, I know. Maybe it’s the disappointment in myself.

Or the softness of the singers voice, so gentle, so sweet and high and unaccusing. Yea, coffee and sweet sadness for breakfast. I like it, I do. It’s me, I suppose.