~Sullen Girl, Fiona Apple

Some days are like this: unsettled, sick feeling deep in the pit of my stomach; memories unbidden of things I said, did or thought that might have made someone think badly of me; those things that might make someone see me the way I see me -- broken, ugly and shrivelled; reels and reels of internal tape spewing back distortion; a litany, a litany, a litany of misstatements or uneasy feelings.

Some days are like this: missed opportunities; things I wanted to do or say or be; goddamn it why did I make that choice? and that one? does everyone have to witness me fucking up? does everyone have to see? oh, it's just PMS, right? no, no, no... it's me, and it's just wrong.

Some days are like this: oh gods, I'm taking up too much space; I shouldn't speak that truth; who am I to speak anyway? who am I? who am I? and why did I speak? do I have to feel so passionately? do I have to express it? do I have to be so big?

Darkness -- that place where the light doesn't shine; where the light cannot survive; where the light simply can't make the journey because it's too far and too deep. Some days are like this. And days. And days.

My diary is like that place where I lie in the dark with my best friend (or in this case, a lot of best friends, acquaintances and family members), and say the things I'd never say if the light of day were shining in my face. Oh, I still have the secrets I would never tell, at least not out loud, but there is a certain freedom to not having to see the reaction of the person I just shared a little piece of my soul with.

I have been in a funk for about three or four days now. Is there any one thing causing it? No. A lot of little things, with maybe a few large big things in the background. I have to shake it out. I can't stay in this place.

Previous | Next