what might soothe me?
notes
When I walk my eyes naturally fall to the ground directly in front of me. Often, I have to remind myself to lift my head so I can see what is coming up. One of the hazards of walking with my eyes cast down is that I’ll gaze directly upon a mouse flattened by a car. It astounds me how their anatomy doesn’t fall out onto the pavement, it all stays bundled in their tiny body. Not their face though. That’s usually gone. When I see dead mice, I don’t remind myself to lift my head. They deserve the respect of at least one mourner.
Entry’s excellent EP from this January, Micromania, is four straight minutes of self loathing and lashing out at anyone who tries to exploit personal instability. Sara Gregory snarls “will I ever see myself as anything?” with such desire to feel as successful and as real as she actually is instead of suffering the delusions her brain enforces on her.
I’ve been struggling to find motivation to read recently. Usually I read on my lunch break, on the train, when Claire is in the shower, after she’s gone to bed, and in any other spare moment, but now I’m struggling to finish re-reading The Bell Jar. This is a bad ailment especially as a library worker.
Early in our relationship Claire told me that I’m a hypochondriac. I thought that couldn’t be true because I never took any medication for headaches or colds or the flu. But anytime I get slightly sick, to avoid the spiral I take it to those closest to me. I don’t trust my brain to tell me the truth of what is happening in my body.
“Hypochondriac” maybe my favorite Fenne Lily song. The chorus “we’re all sick of waiting for a moment to stop and sleep it off” is perfect. I always want an external answer to justify a moment that isn’t cramped by expectations so I can rest, because I can’t believe that I alone could be right.