Journaling On Through

My soul keeps getting mussed. Around people who could be friends/are friends. I think it has to do with being unable to compromise an ideal of interaction for the reality of interaction, and the scariness that something wrong could come out of me if I don’t totally monitor myself all the time. Which turns into the wrongest thing possible. It’s actually the ingredients for narcissism: not depending on others, ever, so that it’s no longer relationships but pawns around you, because there ain’t no give and take. I feel like I’m becoming a hypermoral, legalistic mother superior nun running a Catholic school.

In the larger picture, my actions recently aren’t horrifically manipulative or condescending. Like if there’s a spectrum of behavior, mine still falls into the category of “Oh, she’s having a bad day” and not “Mommie, Dearest”. My mind still drifts back to antidepressants. Sometimes I can restore the color in my world, but sometimes I just feel so bad. Like this gurgling swamp steeps my vision, and I can’t get a breath out of it to correct my path. But I think I can’t move out of it, because these pictures wedge themselves in and take up all my mental capacity: they’re the supposed critical, fixed, zoom-in of others’ eyes on me, so that any movement constitutes a huge risk of shame and embarrassment. Yep.

Soooo…. If I could develop the habit of dissolving these breadth-consuming, self-conscious images, it would free up my mind to grapple with all the regular human stuff of emotions and things coming at me throughout the day. : )

Addendum: I talk about humans like I’m not one.
I cut my bangs asymmetrically. Sara was afraid to mention it in case I’d meant to cut them straight. haha. I think the asymmetry is to stick it to the mother superior growth, maybe, I just thought of that.