for some reason, i can always rely on livejournal to trick myself into writing. something about it feels safe, non-committal, low-pressure, while allowing that soft whisper to blow behind my ears: what you write is beautiful. maybe it's the glory of the high-school days i feel nostalgic for, where 4 or 5 comments of praise were exciting! motivating! empowering! actually, come to think of it, it was much more than those 4 or 5 comments that i found here. livejournal was my first experience with building a community based around my own, self-determined expression.
why i've come back. why does one return? i will always return back to myself. i wonder if this is the space where i will do that. i wonder if this will be around for a lifetime. i recently was telling my lover that i get the past 3 years all jumbled up, forgetting what took place within what numbers, when i felt like what, and with whom. i told them, i'm going to go back to my livejournal and map out the last 3 years of my life based on who i was or was not dating at the time, because that is usually an indicator of my emotional, political, social and creative self.
i want to know where i've been. what i've been through. this past year has been this uncomfortable stretching of the self, a shedding of skin. and when it's hard, i have to remember, that it's just the beginning. though, it always does feel like the beginning. each year after going through some level of intellectual/political/emotional growth, i say, wow, i am now living with my eyes open. but this year, i don't see it as such. the awareness doesn't feel like a beginning, but more like a calming down, a welcoming of struggle, and change, of the unknown.
and before i force myself to sleep, what do i tell you of today? of the morning's wetness? a finished book? the start of another? longing, how i'm always longing. how i am constantly running from and towards myself.