"An apartment in Old Mayfair..."
Aug. 9th, 2003 05:39 amI feel somewhat odd/vulnerable talking about this...It's one of my little secrets, one of those things I'm utterly convinced is either perfectly normal or utterly insane.
I suspect it's only getting to me so badly because of my hormones (due to being sick I wasn't able to take care of that little problem my usual way, so I'm a bit more symptomatic than is usual). I lave always lived inside my own head to one degree or another, preferring my rich fantasy worlds to the plodding of day to day existence. I don't do it as much anymore, but when I was in my teens I'm surprised I wasn't run over crossing the street, I could be that oblivious to the world around me. Still, sometimes those worlds in my head call to me, siren voices luring me away from a life revolving around dishes, cat litter, and clean floors.
It got really bad after going to the movies the other night. Pirates of the Carribean is a fun movie, nothing special, but fun. I think that's part of why I feel so silly writing about this, that something so obviously designed/shallow would remind me so visceraly of the halls of my own mind. Still it appealed to me, the fantasy of it, and getting the coffee ready for the morning just seemed like an impossible letdown.
Talking it over in the shower Sir mentioned Pussy Willow and I nodded excitedly, so relieved that my oddity was met with validation, both from him and the song itself. We talked on, about how sometimes my daily life seems so deadly dull, the same dishes, every day, my biggest accomplishment for the week being a clean refrigerator, and the conflicts within myself over that,. because I know full well how good my life is, and how, when considering all possible worlds, I'd not have it any other way. We talked a bit more, and then he sang Seal Driver to me, as I bit my lip and felt grateful the water falling on my face from the shower hid my tears.
I know, I know, I know that I have a good life, and the full knowledge of its goodness shakes my very soul, and makes me feel so terribly unworthy of it. But sometimes, sometimes, somewhere. there's so much more.
I suspect it's only getting to me so badly because of my hormones (due to being sick I wasn't able to take care of that little problem my usual way, so I'm a bit more symptomatic than is usual). I lave always lived inside my own head to one degree or another, preferring my rich fantasy worlds to the plodding of day to day existence. I don't do it as much anymore, but when I was in my teens I'm surprised I wasn't run over crossing the street, I could be that oblivious to the world around me. Still, sometimes those worlds in my head call to me, siren voices luring me away from a life revolving around dishes, cat litter, and clean floors.
It got really bad after going to the movies the other night. Pirates of the Carribean is a fun movie, nothing special, but fun. I think that's part of why I feel so silly writing about this, that something so obviously designed/shallow would remind me so visceraly of the halls of my own mind. Still it appealed to me, the fantasy of it, and getting the coffee ready for the morning just seemed like an impossible letdown.
Talking it over in the shower Sir mentioned Pussy Willow and I nodded excitedly, so relieved that my oddity was met with validation, both from him and the song itself. We talked on, about how sometimes my daily life seems so deadly dull, the same dishes, every day, my biggest accomplishment for the week being a clean refrigerator, and the conflicts within myself over that,. because I know full well how good my life is, and how, when considering all possible worlds, I'd not have it any other way. We talked a bit more, and then he sang Seal Driver to me, as I bit my lip and felt grateful the water falling on my face from the shower hid my tears.
I know, I know, I know that I have a good life, and the full knowledge of its goodness shakes my very soul, and makes me feel so terribly unworthy of it. But sometimes, sometimes, somewhere. there's so much more.