1 am. I need to sleep. Work ALL day tomorrow. At both Lush and Sephora. 11am to 11:30pm. Honestly, I have no idea why I agreed to pick up the Lush shift. I almost picked up a shift tonight, after having worked for 7 days in a row. I was sick for about 3 weeks, from lack of rest. It took every ounce of strength to say no to today’s shift. I needed a day off. To relax, watch movies, meditate, etc. Impulsively, I will say yes to everything.
It’s too late to take a bubble bath. I get so much reading done when I take baths. That’s the only way I can ~focus~ instead of multi-tasking every which way with the 20+ tabs I have open, with far too many mental notes.
Leonardo Favio has been my jaaaam for over a week now. His music was from the 60s/70s, Argentinian singer. Just listen.
- I wish people were still emotional enough to warrant carrying handkerchiefs with them.
- Emotions are weak.
- I feel like crying for everyone that’s ever been sad, for everyone that’s ever had it rough, for everyone that’s ever been lonely.
- I can’t cry.
No matter what, I don’t want to be emotionally vulnerable. Already I told Sebastian too much about how I feel.
Sometimes I don’t know if I suppress my emotions or if I just don’t have any. The former seems the likely culprit. For so long I have told myself that it is not okay to let anyone or anything affect me that I automatically try to suppress every emotion. And then when finally I allow myself to feel, I feel so much I can’t even breathe. Anger, love, sympathy, caring, hate. I feel them so intensely it hurts.
I’m finally over __. What’s funny is that CBD had to replace __ in order for me to be over the latter.
When someone asks me how I’m doing, I never go into details. And yet I get upset when people blab on and on about themselves and don’t let me speak, as if I would share anything even if they did ask. I always get upset no one gives enough of a fuck to ask for details. If you ask, I’ll answer. But, no one asks anything at all. I think that’s where I get my mentality that “no one cares.” It’s difficult enough for me to “open up” – I get so uncomfortable even just thinking about it. No one even knows. (I’ve made no progress.)
“You can’t even tell me what’s under the stupid tarp.”
My mouth seals shut and I get so hesitant.
People always assume I’m okay, that I’m strong, that I’m ~so~ prepared and fearless, that nothing can bring me down. Look closer, please. It’s all a facade. I’ve never been so weak, so scared.
I start to say what I mean, what I feel, and then I can’t. No one cares.
Why am I such a contradictory hypocrite?
Nobody’s here with me.