Do I wave the white flag? It's in my hand. Next month will be autumn. Fall is a really nice time to burrow away, watch a lot of TV, try not to think or create or learn or grow. I can do this very easily. Fade away from the people/places/scenes/mindset I'm trying to be a part of. Step backwards into invisible girl land. Stay there indefinitely.
I'm just so tired. So very tired.
I keep getting out of bed. Making an effort. Interacting with people in genuine ways, even if it leaves me vulnerable. Staying connected to the world. Writing. But it's exhausting, and this morning I'm wondering: how much good is it actually doing? Crazy is not the same as good. Neither is complicated, stressful, or confusing. There used to a healthy sprinkling of bedazzlement, but I'm not feeling it anymore.
I was talking to a friend at work about my tattoo, the Enda Walsh quote (newly souped up with Disneyesque Van Gogh stars):
the woods no more and only this mountain to climb
And her comment was, "Yeah, but ever notice how sometimes you think you're out of the woods, and then you end up right back there again?"
Or perhaps it's more like this: you're out of the woods, but the open space is just so immense and overwhelming, you head straight back for the shelter of the trees. Knowing fully that you're only hurting yourself in the long run.
You're lost there, but it's a good kind of lost. And so you decide to stay.
I could do a lot of things in the great open bewildering space of the world. Watch the worst/best movie at the theatre, eat cheesecake, see a punk band, write until I bleed words. And that's just today.
Or I could just sleep, white flag waving from my bed post.