Tonight my breathing has become forced, I’m doing everything with a rushed disposition or at least a feel that something major will happen tomorrow that I need to present well for. I’ve just understood what it is:
For once in my life I want something.
I walked into my year 12 and uni exams after everyone else had gone into the room because I didn’t care if I did well or not, the world would continue spinning either way, and if I fucked up then I simply fucked up and I would never think about it again. I blew off people, uni diplomas, so many things that others would smile on me for, simply because I didn’t want them. And then I lost She Who Must Never Be Mentioned (see first entry), the only thing that mattered, and my heart stopped asking for new things.
Today I actually want to do well, I want to display the best part of myself and not just the anonymous part that always ends up being shown. I want, that sometimes-stated cause of suffering. Deep in my heart I had stopped basing my happiness on goals because the pain of not attaining them is too great; I converted my joy into being based on actions, moments, people, on turning my brain off and enjoying what comes from that, music and dancing and other things that should only be vaguely suggested in public. I see things that could be within my grasp and if I miss them it will hurt. Something within me has turned on again after so many years; I’m afraid and expectant and I won’t be able to sleep.
I remember feeling like this.