sorcyress | (no subject) (Reply)

...and just like that, everything's fixed. One stupid little icon, and it all stops, the tears, the self-hate, the thoughts of self-injury*, it's all gone. My mood is not necessarily going up, but it's stopped going down.

I hate that my brain does that, I really do. That womanly stereotype of PMS induced mood swings, snapping right from sad to giddy without any stop in between. I want to watch a real change, want to watch my brain struggle and fight and force itself into stability. I don't want it to just happen, without any feeling of having earned it.

It's not even a sentiment that makes sense right now, I wasn't havn't trouble loving myself, I was having trouble with the prospect of others loving me. The usual distracted paths of jealousy and lonliness, and that desperate worry that I would be intruding, distracting someone away from what they actually need to do. I was fine with myself --I thought I was quite pretty to tell the truth, and very nicely melancholic. Kinda elegant.

(And yes, I'll admit it, there was a certain thrill of pride to think that I could fool people. "No, of course I'm not sad! Here, let me distract you away from the warning behaviour that I just exhibited." It's not a safe thing to be proud of, but pride seems good for me nontheless.)

Eventually, I'm afraid, I'll have to talk. Trust someone that they won't feel think I'm an idiot, or a bitch, or trying to control their life. Trust that they'll understand that I'm not trying to change things, just let them know why I can't always handle it like I should.

It ties in with this year's project: I have emotions. Jealosy, anger, depression, antisocialness, lonliness, even the occasional hate or spite. Emotions are not bad. They are just there --it is the actions taken in those emotions that are good or bad.

It is not wrong of me to be jealous, at all. Hell, given all my circumstances, it's almost a wonder I don't spend more of my time being more intensely jealous, of *everyone*. There are sane pathways to take, lovers to confess to, coping mechanisms. Hell, distractions, until I'm removed enough from the problem to convince myself.

...

Like that one. Good night, darlings.

~Sor
MOOP!

*Oh come on. I wouldn't. But what do you think all those words that get scrawled up and down my arm when I'm down *represent*