20/03/2012

Skipping between past and present. All the time. But can’t stay in one place. Present isn’t real, past isn’t real. I need to understand this. It’s a message to myself.

What is my question? What am I searching for? 

I’ve acknowledged what is. And I know now that it’s not something to be resolved, it just is.

I need to be strict with myself.

Weepy, pathetic girl.
Hanging onto the past.
There’s no strength or fight here, just nostalgia + melancholy.
It’s disgusting. I’m disgusted to have such weakness in me. I need to clear up + find strength. Figure out what I can do, actually do. Not ‘talk about’, but do.

I hate this place. I am disorientated + confused by the world I live in. It makes me nauseous. I am isolated by this + by other things. Isolated in a place that I find strange. This is why I drift off and gall into the past and the imaginary. But it does ‘t help.

Things that aren’t real.

This book – Capture it – Cauterize it. Crystallise.
Throw it away. Dismiss. A goodbye.
It’s all stories. Memories. It isn’t real.

I only just realised that things have changed.

Being in England. I said it, not as ‘being in England as opposed to being anywhere else’. I said it as ‘Being in England’; The experience of being here. Just being.

You can try and understand the present, and (maybe) see a future, but you can’t go back.