I go through lulls where I don’t write anything but un-punctuated, unoriginal texts to mostly just my husband like, “call you when I’m done and don’t forget to leave my charger.” I can never tell when it’s going to happen because most of the time, when I find that I’m magnificently upset about something, words tend to pour out of me and it helps to cleanse my palette and force me to confront the demon and move on.
And then other times, like now, when I’m all messed up inside, my emotions get up in arms about the mere mention of their names and so I sink into my own shadow and stay quiet, even to myself. You’d think it would be a nice break from the typical racket I hear inside my brain every day, but… It feels different. It’s a different kind of lonely when you’re lonely from yourself.
That sounds super pathetic and makes me want to laugh and puke at the same time, but it’s the truth, so there you have it.
Anyways. I was gifted an old Minolta film camera a few weeks ago and went through a few canisters within like, two days. The only agonizing part of film is you have to have patience while all of your pictures are developed. In a few days I will completely overload and annoy the masses with as many up-close, starry eyed, dirty faced toddler pictures as I can, but until then there’s only words on a blog. Don’t hate me.