The minute I got comfortable in my bed with my mango coconut MamaChia and season 4 of Sex and the City, mother strolls in my room in her cutest workout outfit telling me she’s going to the gym. Clearly trying to make me feel guilty here because I’m laying in bed doing absolutely nothing. So I get up, put on my cutest workout outfit, and join her.
Before I go any further, I should probably mention the fact that I absolutely hate the gym. But I also hate the fact that my thighs don’t fit into my high waisted american apparel shorts I bought nearly 2 years ago.
The only machine I ever go on at the gym (besides the bikes) is the eliptical, and luckily all of the machines at the gym have TV’s on them. So naturally, I turn to the channel playing Family Guy and attempt to enjoy my workout.
Until I’m rudely interrupted by what I think is the universe foreshadowing my future to me unless I keep going to the gym consistently: the episode where Peter tries to get Chris to lose weight. So here I am watching Chris exercise on TV as I exercise in real life; out of breath and in dire need for a cigarette, I had an epiphany. I was Chris. And I’m not quite sure why in that moment I felt so enlightened but I do know that I’ve never been so motivated to go to the gym before.
Our relationship is made up of a million moments. Many of which happen to be firsts. We we’re each other’s first kiss, first love, my first flight alone, my first time in Arizona, my first time staying in dorms, I was with you when you got your first tattoo, my first time ever experiencing wanting no one else besides you.
I’m grateful. That I can say these things. I love that I can look back on us like this. Although this isn’t the end I know it’s going to be rough (at least for me) for a while. If life is an ocean then you are the wave I won’t mind drowning in and crashing into, as long as I get to ride it.
Lately I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore. I used to feel so alive. Alive in feelig but dead in esteem. Now I just feel dead. Numb. Nothing. It just hurts. But it’s such a familiar pain that I have become so used to it, it doesn’t even affect me anymore. I almost miss that feeling of being alive. It hurt like hell but it felt good… Am I a freak for saying that? I’m just so lost again. Life really is temporary. Everything is temporary. Feelings, people, places, trends, interests. Temporary.
I want to put myself out there so I can feel something again. I think I did that but I still don’t feel anything. Is this ever going to go away?
Yes. Because everything is temporary.
I don’t want it to go away… Sometimes I can feel myself forgetting about him but I would never let myself do that. Sometimes I feel him forgetting about me but he promised me he would never. He promised me a lot of things.
Lately I’ve been noticing that my friend and I have been experiencing really magical things in our lives, and nothing has ever made me more happy. I feel like my brain is being filled with glitter and hearts!!!
Well, I have decided that at some point in my life I am going to write a book about my friends and I, and our really magical lives (mark my words!!!!!). I almost got worried that I wasn’t going to be able to collect all my information if I don’t start documenting now, but then I thought: I really doubt one of us is going to forget that one.
As much as I do hate people, the people I choose not to hate happen to be some of the most amazing creatures I’ve ever met (I say creatures because some of them are animals).
I am currently sitting behind my desk in my really awesome, yet uncomfortable, clear chair my dad bought me from ikea, with my dog sitting right next to me on the chair.
I really do hate being alone. I hate being by myself. I’m normally never alone. I’m either with my friends or with my mom. Either way, always with my loved ones. When I’m by myself for too long I lose it; which is why I write. I have so many thoughts and feelings and so much to say about everything, and when I’m alone the only way I seem to be getting them out is through writing. I mean, sometimes I talk to myself, but when I write I look at it more as me talking to the universe. Through this, I also help my thoughts manifest more in my universe.
“Thoughts become things… Choose the good ones!” -Mike Dooley
So while my mom is at the gym and I’m all alone in the house, I begin to write. And as soon as my dog jumped up on next to me on my chair to join me, I realized I am not alone.
I once heard somewhere that if your aim is to be a great writer you must write everyday.
Earlier today I couldn’t fathom the idea of turning off Sex and the City and getting up out of bed to sit down in front of my desk, and write. However, I managed to get myself up and indulge in a little substance abuse (I mean, come on, I am an artist).
You know, I also once heard somewhere: write intoxicated, edit sober.
So I decided to take that approach and here I am! Sitting down in front of my desk, writing. Slowly (but surely), through the “self-reflection” side effect of my intoxication, I began to realize this is actually way more difficult that I had imagined. I have been writing this brief post for over 15 minutes now because I am over-thinking everything (as if I don’t do that enough already!)
I am also beginning to realize how short my attention span is at the moment, and how I can’t remember why I even started writing this post to begin with…
It’s that time of the night where the car is our nirvana and none of us have a single care in the world. It’s moments like these I realize we’re all one. Strip away your coats and hang your insecurities on the coatracks. You are not alone.