i can try to get by, but every time I start to panic...

i’m a little bit shy, a bit strange and a little bit manic…

lying here on the living room floor, thinking about how my contacts are going to be a mother to take out.

it’s weird that crying dries your eyes out so badly.

when i say your, i of course mean my.

it’s 2014 and i’m still trying to break the habit of saying you/your when what i mean is i. me. mine.

i’m thinking about october, and breathing, and how i can’t wait for everything to slow down.

i’m scared.

a lot lately, i’m scared.

i’m scared that pressure is what it means to be grown up.

i’m scared the backs of my eyes are going to split open snd i’m going to go blind.

i’m scared i’m going to get to houston and i’ll still be that weird girl.

i’m scared to go without ziggy.

i’m scared that i’m going to fall wrong sooner or later and die and fail all this love in my heart.

boohoo, look at me, i’m scared.

but really like

everyone tells you to go after your dreams

to follow your heart

but what they don’t tell you is that it’s fucking terrifying.

it’s hard and it’s mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting.

because like

when you close your eyes and are alone with yourself, when it’s just you and what’s in your heart, you feel how small you are

but you also feel how singular

how important

because there isn’t anyone else in the whole world who knows the truth that’s there in your heart like you do, and there isn’t anyone else who can really, truly fulfill it.

(looksee, i’m still using you but i’m talking about me. still. i made a resolution to stop this in 2007. old habits.)

i digress.

pressure.

there’s so much pressure in that.

in being singular, in recognizing your absolute singularity

in being the only one who can fulfill that truth you’re alone with when you close your eyes.

because what if i fall and die tomorrow? what if i break my wrists trying to catch myself and i can’t write anymore? what if some guy on the bus i’m on decides to kill everyone?

what if i go to sleep tonight and i never wake up?

it makes you not want to ever sleep.

or get on the bus to go to work.

or leave your desk, because if you don’t stand up, you probably won’t fall.

but you need coffee.

and you have to go to work because you have to pay rent so that you have a place to write.

and you have to sleep in order to function.

so you do it.

and every step is literally facing fear.

and people don’t know that.

and you don’t tell people that because it makes you sound crazy.

just like you don’t tell people that you walk instead of drive because love walks with you, and you’re listening too closely, too intimately to operate a machine while it’s happening.

and you lay on your living room floor and write sorely sober blog posts about being scared and crazy and hope so fucking hard that your girlfriend will find you soon because you’re too small and pathetic feeling to reach out.

so you hide

in plain sight

and hope

and fear

and hope

you

(i)

really want to be found.