A little here, a little there. I'm not very committed to these things as I've said before. I wish I could be but I always seem to be behind on time, as if it's moving at great speeds and I, the lowly sloth, continue to lie about in the trees above, waiting to fall.
I've begun a ritual cleansing of my spirit. I decided to let go of the people who have hurt me most severely. It will be a gradual extermination (a photo deleted here, number blocking and what not) until my hands have been washed clean. When I remember these people I now refer to them as "A girl I once knew" or "this guy I used to like", hoping that eventually that is all they will be to me, foggy memories, dusty photos and forgotten names.
I've also cut my hair quite short. I'm very satisfied, its as if along with throwing away my emotional baggage, I'm letting down my autumn leaves. It makes your head feel light again, I wonder if the trees appreciate the seasons as much as I do.
I started reading novels again! Okay, even if its meant for 11 year olds, I admit that I'm obsessed with the Warriors series by Erin Hunter, its simply amazing and gut wrenchingly painful. I love the characters as much as my family. They suffer terribly in the name of god, trust and love. Who knew a group of wild cats could be described to humanly?
These changes have left me feeling emotionally drained and throughly dried up. I even got a new job just to quit 1 month in. It was terribly tiering on me physically; I'll miss that $12.00 an hour though.
Losing so many loved ones so rapidly drove me crazy for a while. I couldn't help wondering where I'd gone wrong as a friend. Part of me still hopes they will all come back some day and things will be happy once more. The pain I got from losing them was not so much for the pain they caused but for the loss of some of my most precious and cherished memories.
I once grasped tightly to my memories, telling myself they they were what kept me human and reminded me that I exist. Realizing that some of those memories were not the same for them hurt me more than I can say in words. To think that my best friend thought of me as her worst enemy was so jarring, as if everything I had ever felt for her had been a mirage in the desert that is my mind.
All the edifices I have built there are gone.
My tears are from the winds that blow.
My skin is cracked and bleeding from the dry air.
I feel more thirst than I've ever felt before but there is no water in my desert.
I've stepped out of my mirage.
All I see are the hills of sand. Occasionally I see signs of life but upon closer inspection, they too are mirages. How will I ever trust myself to drink from the pool of life once more?
