I'm still not talking about NaNoWriMo. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm very upset about it actually, not because I'm failing but because I feel like I'm letting a part of me slip away. Why am I not writing? I can't be myself if I don't write. And I haven't played the piano in weeks. I don't like to think about it because it upsets me.
I'm happy, though. I think I'm happy. I haven't had a bad day in weeks. I used to have multiple bad days in a week. At the same time, I feel like this happiness is suppressing a part of myself. Is it possible that I actually secretly desire my old misery? That's sick. I'm just not used to feeling happy. I don't really know how to explain it. Yes, those days are bad when they come, dangerous even, but at the same time it's when I produce my best music and my best writing.
Why can't I ever just be satisfied in my life? I'm either stuck in a back hole or I'm perfectly happy yet somehow unfulfilled.
In other news, I am slacking off in my classes. Procrastination has taken over again. Fed by a recent sickness. Make this the fourth sinus infection this year. Could there be a more disgusting sickness?
And what else does my life need right now but drama. Basically, I have this bad habit of getting drunk and hooking up with this guy. It's complicated because we're friends, he's into me and I thought I didn't like him but now I'm wondering why my drunken self likes to hook up with him so much. I don't want to lead him on but why do I keep getting drunk and hooking up with this kid?
The icing on the cake that was my week - we had to put down Lazy Sun, one of the horses I had grown up with. He was old but I learned to ride on him and he was a great, great horse. He was a great racehorse in his day but I knew him as the friendly old guy who was there all my childhood.
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