I’m in an emotional headspace right now. I’m getting my period in maybe 10 days? I had a dream about it too. Sometimes when my cycle has been erratic I’ll have dreams that my period is coming. It’s strange to think my uterus, my own body, speaks to me through images, telling me what I consciously have yet to grasp.
I’m also on a flight to Guatemala. I didn’t exactly plan on cracking open my laptop and writing. I thought I would sit in a stony PMS silence by the window and think too deeply and too heavily about New York. That lasted only a few minutes though and then I started to pour my thoughts into an entry. I was watching a coffee grounds reading for Aries and the reader said “sadness, sorrow, makes for good poetry.” I feel a little apprehensive about this idea. Sometimes I think I’m subjecting people to an emotional therapy session, pouring my heartache into someone else’s cup and forcing them to drink it. I’m not sure if I’m helping.
I keep thinking about Nietzsche’s line “He who has a why to live for, can bear almost any how.” That line is carrying me through so much hurt right now. I have a weird habit of catching feelings for writers that strengthen me. While I’ve never met Nietzsche, let alone seen a photo, there’s a love I have for him. The best writing is in service to others.
I’m confused about what to do with my life in New York. It feels like a tornado, clipping me into a frenzy and then tossing me back down. I feel burnt out and exhausted. I feel abandoned by the world, and there’s a layer of hurt that won’t stop cutting into me. In all of this I have to create a safety net for myself, a soft spot to land. I imagine checking into my San Marcos airbnb, falling into the pillow and crying. Surrounded by lush volcanic jungles, I emotionally try to bridge two seemingly disparate realities.
a soft death 