Happy Friday

Okay so, a couple of days ago I had written a couple of drafts about my inner thoughts and what not, but then I decided not to publish them. One of them was just a passing irrational yet truthful sentiment, while the other one spoke about something new. The something new was my change in mood. I thought that there might have been a glimmer of my old self and wit returning back to me. I felt hopeful and somehow that that fire that has always been in me (though recently, okay not recently but for several months, dimished) had somehow slowly began to reegnite and I felt really good about that. I actually felt renewed and argumentative. (Yes argumentative may sound bad, but it caused me to not want to remain silent but to have the want to speak up and discuss anything and everything therefore resulting in the perfection of further progress in my existential self.) I was actually motivated to speak out and converse with everyone when for the past several months I have resorted to being reclusive because of high preference.

I decided not to publish that progressive entry because my thoughts had been interrupted at the moment and I felt that I could not give the entry the respected evaluation and perfection I feel that most of my entries require from me in order to actually publish them for everyone to read, judge, and examine. Although I divulge this occurence, I also do have to admit that I also wrote that I was afraid. I was and still am afraid that my new and rising "good and happy" emotions are just passing sentiments that at any moment pose the unfortunate and high probability to be taken away from me. Since everything I have ever known the bottom has fallen out of. I feel that every time I have the slightest chance of becoming relieved and in any way lighter and carefree, that something out there, some cosmic force out there sends a signal warning the universe of my possible bliss. Thus setting in motion the mission to restore the balance to make things shitty again for me. "It's natural for things to be shitty" right? Yeah, but it doesn't make things any fucking more better in the meantime.

The problem is, I am always afraid to get my hopes up for fear of massive disappointment. I guess I have a displacement psychological issue in that I put so much hope and expectation in semi-minor things (this is a defense and replacement for other deep rooted issues I would rather avoid) and when something does not go perfectly the way that I hoped it would be, then I get immensely low and start to sink.

It is seriously insane how so many thoughts and emotions can come and go (seriously when I say I'm like an emotional rollercoaster, I am not joking) in just a matter of days. I was feeling great up until it suddenly hit me (as my erratic emotions often do for no apparent reason that I can fathom) that I lost my lightness. I've tried to make sense of how my emotions can just alter in an instant, but honestly I don't even understand it after my constant and cyclic trials of evaluations, reevaluations, and revelations. Maybe this would have been better explained had I not been too chickenshit to follow up with my counselor appointment. Hah.

But I do have to admit that usually I'm at at a 7, but today I am at a 6. Which is not as bad. As you can see I am willing to virtually archive my sentiments and I can see that they are slowly becoming more personalized instead of bland and general, so that must be something spectacular worth mentioning. Usually when I am feeling too low, I lose complete agency, even the want to record my thoughts because when I am low I would rather try to avoid and repress to be as far from my cloud of crazy inner thoughts as possible and not do anything. Recording would mean having to type which would therefore require action and motivation which obviously I lack when I am low. Most of the time I just want to block everything out since the world is filled with mindless idiotic droits who are a waste of a life that make me feel like I am surrounded by stupid people all the time so much that it actually contributes to my ever so lovely recluse habit that I am so terribly fond of.

Having my words right in front of me as I type transcends me into a world of my own mind blocking out the outside world (I rather love that part, just one of the great appeals writing does have) leaving anything open to discussion. But with the loss of agency when I am low (I realize I am using the word low in major repetition but I prefer not to use the overtly publicized and overrated word depressed/depression right now), everything is self contradictory. As you can see, it is easy for me to ramble on and on and I never seem to make any sense or stay on the topic I originally started with. This must drive many people crazy, but these are my thoughts so too bad. Haha.

And with all that said, lately, it seems like all I have been wanting to do is write. Write Write Write. All my felt emotions every moment I can. How incredibly incandescently love is that? Mind you I have always said that I don't even know if I can write, or who would ever even want to read my writing because in my mind writers hold a certain standard to the level of artist in my opinion and I have always thought that I never had an artistic bone in my body. (Believe me I can't even color and my drawings are terribly rudimentary) I hold form of writing up on a pedastal to say that it is a type of art that is immensely beautiful. I started this blog as an experiment and reflection for not only myself to look back on and evaluate, but also for feedback of community to help my wanted development.

But I guess writing is writing. And this is writing. (What do you think?) A formulation of specific said thoughts, ideas, and theories placed together in an incredibly calculated way to convey the outcome of perfection of what one (one being me since this is my blog and my own words) really wanted to articulate to begin with, but also in the process allowing the opening up of further exploration of the mind and soul for newer hypothesises and sentiments. Can I say that I am a writer? I am not sure about that or if I have the confidence for that conviction, but what I can say is that before I did not even know if I wanted to be a writer, but now, the idea and possibility is beginning to be more and more optimistically appealing, attainable, and possible. And that feeling is definitely a surpassing revelation.

The problem is, I am not privy to a computer in the majority of my day in which I experience these emotions and by the time that I am, the emotions will have already diminished and the want to record will have gone. Hence the lack of constant entries that contradict my craving to discuss everything virtually.

Yet, as you can see, or at least I have noticed. I feel that my personality is coming back into myself and therefore it is apparent in my writing. With all of that derangement examined and discussed. I am very happy and light today (as I am every Friday since that means a whole free weekend of nothingness and no responsibility from obligations). Every Friday that I wake up great I just want to announce Happy Friday and send it everywhere I possibly can.

I would have to say, some of what I wrote was pretty beautiful in my opinion. (Oh look at that? maybe my profound false confidence may be returning along with my wit and comedic bitter sarcasm as well. I may have just found a way back. Cheers.)

So with all of my broken love, take a sweet kiss and a closed mouth smile. Happy Friday you poor unfortunate kindred souls. <3