July 22nd, 2013

TWW || Constance || Brewing-working.

(no subject)

I have down on my list to finally make a proper LJ update. I find that it is yet again beyond me. I'll see what I can do.

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3) I am utterly fried. I feel too young to take seriously and too old to be useful. My friend mentioned the other day that she always forgets I'm 23 and, my goodness, so do I. I tend to joke with friends that I'm 23 going on 87 or that I'm secretly 87 inside, but sometimes...well, sometimes I just feel much older than I am. It's perhaps why I'm so amused (and occasionally confused) to be one of the token "young'n"s here. That role is incredibly different from the one I play out in real life.

4) To use youthful language, I ouch inside. Too many types of grief in this little heart of mine. Sometimes I'm saner about it and sometimes I'm not; in the 'not' times I feel much more desolate and desperate and detestable and disappointing. I hate how much I cry these days. It makes it feel much more dangerous to be alone, which is when it happens (I don't tend to cry around others), while my ability to find contentment in alone time used to be one of my best features. I thought I was doing better for a time--I was almost able to not just notice things I would normally find beautiful but was almost back to that wondrous feeling of oh, isn't that beautiful?--but here I am. Grief cycles. The waves that take one by surprise.

5) I feel selfish for still crying over my hip and my body when there are so many other things going on. But it seems I can no more change the crying than the feelings. This autumn will mark the anniversary of the year in school in which I a) became 'Kiwi' (decade as myself!); b) came out as queer (and again!); c) got my period (which was a big deal since I had been on hormone suppressants from ages 7-12 so I wouldn't get it as a child and be a legal midget); d) had my first ever moment of "oh my goodness I am hot" with no other negative feelings (and unfortunately I have not had such a moment since); e) decided to go to a non-traditional high school; and f) fractured my fucking hip. It's not as if we often see where our lives will end up or how they will get there but...where I am, how I am, is not always fun. And sometimes I cry about it. Sometimes I laugh, too, because I'm 23 with a six-year-old faulty hip that snap-crackle-pops and squeaks, but I'm afraid at the moment those times are not in the majority.

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Well, I intended that to be much better organised and written, but that's what I could manage. I'm about to pop home the way to my friend's so I can print out a few pictures for tomorrow's lesson and pick up MS Office. I'm about 500 words into the first story I've written in over half a year, which I hope is a good sign. It's likely going to be depressing as all heck but that's all right; sadness is still a story.

Off I go, then.

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]