Sunday, August 24, 2008

I am a haunted house. But I still don't want you to know I'm haunted.

It's 2:45 am and I'm so anxious that I find myself unable to sleep. Why? For reasons which I don't wish to disclose to the general public, that's why. I do, however, think that it might be an effective use of time to channel my current melancholy energy into a positive feeling. And how better than via the means of written expression?

Actually, that's a very interesting reflection. I suppose that's why I, in general, keep coming back to this damn blog time and time again: to refocus. Sigh.

"Self-Relfections" was a piece that I wrote after I completed the Taiwan at Truman program this summer. I like to consider it an attempt at authoring my emotions about my semi-sordid past. And by "semi-sordid" I mean my former struggles with Depression, Anxiety, and Bulimia/Anorexia.

...Wow. That was sort of liberating. Writing it, I mean.

I understand that the piece is mediocre in the literary sense, but it is the closest that I have ever come to being unrestricted and frank with my friends about my life's throes. So in that sense, I suppose it could be considered profound- albeit superficial in its existence.

I'm aware that it's considered selfish for one to keep his or her experiences from others (so that they may learn from them). And I understand that I fall prey to this vice. Be assured in knowing that I hate that I am indulgent and prideful in this way.

It is a Truth that the sharing of human experience is meritorious, however, so I am going to remain optimistic about my endeavor to self-disclose. Ergo, in an attempt to put my proverbial best foot forward, I would like to promise all who read this blog that I am working diligently to correct my "problem" of keeping my past tight-mouthed. Honesty is a virtue that I hold in the highest regard, after all, and omission can certainly be considered dishonesty, can it not?

A random spur-of-the-moment contemplation: Perhaps my woebegone mood is an indicator that I am spiritually malnourished? Interesting notion. How does one experience catharsis for such an affliction? Or better yet, is there any way to absolve oneself of somber reflections without spirituality? Well, yes. There is always physical eradication.

...Actually, I SO take that thought-stream back. I'm physically healthy now. I can't get caught up in those thoughts anymore; purging is a terribly addictive response to emotional distress. I would know.

Huh. I feel better having just admitted what I did about myself. But on the flip-side I just realized that I really do hate listening to myself think. Or re-reading my thoughts, for that matter.

Ugh. I'm so anxious I'm teetering. Dang.

How about a round of peace and fucking quiet for everyone? That would be nice. The world doesn't get nearly enough of that. Besides, no one likes an emo. Oh geez. I'm being emo. I'm sorry, readers. I promise that my next post will be more chipper.

I'm going to go for a walk. Maybe pretending like I can leave will do some good.

Goddamn I need a smoke.

-E.






In which a shadowy freedom fighter known only as "E" uses intellectual terrorist tactics to fight against her totalitarian society.


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