i can't decide if i'm actually sick or if this is just anxiety making my body pay a price for the way that my mind can't stop racing around.
i almost passed out on the 5 this morning.
i kept trying to breathe slowly and keep my mind off it, but all i could think eventually was "I need to sit down," and i got clammy but i felt sweaty and hot and i couldn't focus much on what was going on, fuzzy like a drunk with this panicky hot flash sweeping my body. i tapped the shoulder of the guy sitting in front of me. "I'm really sorry, but can I have your seat. I'm feeling really bad and woozy." He relinquished his seat, god bless him. It took me several stops before i felt okay again. If i hadn't sat down, i would have passed out. No question.
i'm pretty much fine now. just can't seem to make myself work at work. it's too nice of a day outside and all i want to do is write poetry and listen to music and read. which makes me sound like a fucking hippy.
this morning, while walking to the bus, i realized it was spring in san francisco. you know this because people are outside. a man carrying a coffee cup and walking the worlds most ridiculously tiny dog smiled at me like he'd heard it all before as i giggled slightly walking by them. i wanted to comment, but guys with tiny dogs probably hear that all the time. "that's a damn small dog." or "puppy!!!"
i nailed my poem last night. the maestro even said so.
that boy drives me so crazy.
he is so far away from me that my chest feels tight.
i'm always the best at screwin' myself up though. i'm so good at denying myself what i want.
nothing is ever enough and everything else always looks better.
this is so dangerous, except its probably all in my head.
i should know better but i don't care sometimes.
i'm torturing myself. it's true. like a lot of things are true.
like how the things i want don't exist and i am one of those closet romantics who wants things to feel like they're on fire every minute.
so i guess i'm going to go and try to work. and not think about how everything in my life feels like i already gave up on something so vital, don't think about how everything looks like a box, don't think about how i used to ride on handlebars, drunk across the city, and it felt so good.
i almost passed out on the 5 this morning.
i kept trying to breathe slowly and keep my mind off it, but all i could think eventually was "I need to sit down," and i got clammy but i felt sweaty and hot and i couldn't focus much on what was going on, fuzzy like a drunk with this panicky hot flash sweeping my body. i tapped the shoulder of the guy sitting in front of me. "I'm really sorry, but can I have your seat. I'm feeling really bad and woozy." He relinquished his seat, god bless him. It took me several stops before i felt okay again. If i hadn't sat down, i would have passed out. No question.
i'm pretty much fine now. just can't seem to make myself work at work. it's too nice of a day outside and all i want to do is write poetry and listen to music and read. which makes me sound like a fucking hippy.
this morning, while walking to the bus, i realized it was spring in san francisco. you know this because people are outside. a man carrying a coffee cup and walking the worlds most ridiculously tiny dog smiled at me like he'd heard it all before as i giggled slightly walking by them. i wanted to comment, but guys with tiny dogs probably hear that all the time. "that's a damn small dog." or "puppy!!!"
i nailed my poem last night. the maestro even said so.
that boy drives me so crazy.
he is so far away from me that my chest feels tight.
i'm always the best at screwin' myself up though. i'm so good at denying myself what i want.
nothing is ever enough and everything else always looks better.
this is so dangerous, except its probably all in my head.
i should know better but i don't care sometimes.
i'm torturing myself. it's true. like a lot of things are true.
like how the things i want don't exist and i am one of those closet romantics who wants things to feel like they're on fire every minute.
so i guess i'm going to go and try to work. and not think about how everything in my life feels like i already gave up on something so vital, don't think about how everything looks like a box, don't think about how i used to ride on handlebars, drunk across the city, and it felt so good.
posted by DameRight at 12:09 PM
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