De-bugging

And on the other hand:

Thanks to a friend, I was reminded of something I should have put on my OST list a long time ago - Baz Luhrmann's Sunscreen. Listening to it, I find myself mouthing the lyrics I used to memorise late in '99, and the years seem to melt away so fast, and so do the walls I put around myself, until I am alarmingly, amazingly, horribly

vulnerable.

And the tears come. Of longing, of despair (see previous post for one reason why) of sheer frustration, of things I don't even remember doing or if they ever existed in the first place (maybe they're just fake memories I made to keep myself going) and perhaps, most of all, of loss.

Now it is late in the year, and I am still empty. I am glad that no one is around to see me like this, reduced to a shadow of who I always seem to be. There is much to do, always so much to do, and the distance I have put between myself and the people around me is necessary, now more than ever, no matter how detrimental it may seem.

It is okay to not be okay, I tell myself, and for one brief moment my breath hitches, my throat constricts and something more akin to a groan than a wail escapes my lips. It is my only concession to my moment of weakness.

And as quickly as it comes, it passes. The hole is still there, in me, not shrinking but not growing either. I feed it, keep it alive because I know that for now if it goes away, so do I. I feed off the pain, the anger, the frustrations that are channelled into it and come back tenfold because it is only by walking the razor sharp edge of despair can I remember how wonderful it is to be able to come back into the light. Symbiosis, a balance.

And like Baz, this is all I can say:

"Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.."

I think now, more than ever, I get it.