I am so sick of dwelling on the past. I keep dwelling on it so I can write about it one day, so I can let it go.
But you know what? FUCK THAT SHIT. THAT MIGHT BE THE STUPIDEST IDEA I’VE EVER HAD.
I don’t owe anyone anything, including my past self. My past self can go fuck himself, for all I care. I don’t need to write about anything if I don’t want to—especially not if it makes me sick. WTF.
But, to defend my past self in front of myself now, that wasn't always the plan. I was a good past dweller even before I started writing again last year. Writing just gave me hope that I could turn obsessing over things that don't matter into something productive.
Also, it might never really have been a plan. The "plan" just emerged over time. When you do something for so long, you don't question it anymore (if you ever did in the first place). You only find good reasons to continue doing it. Isn't that convenient?
Writing the above feels like one of those pivotal moments in life where you start to see the steps you need to take to achieve your full potential. For now, I see only a few steps. But I trust that the first few steps will be the hardest. The other steps will be easier and will show up in time.
Me trying to achieve my full potential, which is apparently winning a Nintendo DS
I think I remember how I was able to snap out of my obsession with melancholy whenever I was alone: I had the song Make Believe by Memphis May Fire stuck in my head:
Am I alive or am I just breathin'? I'm so numb that sometimes I fear It's all make-believe Is it make-believe? I'vе been lost, lookin' for a reason To carry on, but I'm losin' hope Is this all a dream? Tеll me, is it make-believe?
So naturally, I wanted to blast the song, close my eyes, and "really feel how I am feeling."
However, I wondered: Is this really how I feel, or do I want to feel that way, like I want to listen to this song right now, but I could just as well do something else and forget about it?
And I realized that yes, I could just do something else, forget about it and not be sad.
I want to believe that my decision to walk home without mobile data helped me see my thoughts and feelings in a new light because there was nothing to distract me from them.
It also reminded me of the day I told @k00b that I was considering not only leaving my laptop, but also my phone at PlebLab so I could truly disconnect and achieve the full potential of that, but I didn’t. That day, I even took my laptop home because I was thinking about going to the library the next day.
I also want to believe that going to Whataburger late at night wasn’t as bad a decision as it seemed. There, without mobile data and no Wi-Fi, I started counting the shapes on the back cushion. I came to the conclusion that there are only three distinct shapes in this pattern:
There are only three distinct shapes in this pattern
I also came to the conclusion that comparing newspaper to smartphones is really shallow. Newspaper end, algorithmic feeds don’t. The pictures on the wall from 1960 made me think about this.1
Newspaper end, algorithmic feeds don't
More pictures from my day:
I do want my words to mean something. I want my words to have weight, to have power. When I say I will do something, I will do it because I said I would.
I’m also considering having a day of silence soon. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and something about it really excites me. How will it affect my attention or my thoughts when it’s been hours since I last spoke?
However, since my words now have power—and power must be wielded responsibly—I’ll start with just one hour of silence tomorrow morning. I’ll try not to say anything (to myself or to anyone). I want to focus and get in touch with myself.
Another reason I’m considering such a strange day is that I feel like I’ve been talking way too much when it wasn’t necessary over the past few weeks. But maybe more on that tomorrow. I’m falling asleep.
Idk, most of this sounds so dumb in hindsight, like why even save or worse, share it.
I realized that I could just do something else, forget about it and not be sad.
Wow, such insight, much wow, for real. 🙄
But I have to accept that it used to be me who wrote it, I do believe I meant it at the time and this isn't the end of me. I also like to be surprised by the replies, including if this will even get a reply.
Maybe one day I will be able to write something that I still believe in and thus doesn't sound dumb after a few minutes...
Oh and damn, I really want to write a review of The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It gave me so much to think about in a clearer way. I probably need to read it again though at this point. I now see references to it in random places.
Ok, now I really need to get some sleep.
Footnotes
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The fact that I had just read @plebpoet’s journal entry yesterday, where she wondered how a church softball game ends in 1960, also played a role. ↩
