I seem to get very tired at night...

And yet, I could still write, if I wanted to.

A few things to note:

The sadness of nostalgia...
The frustration of "being out of tune," as I phrased it yesterday. Resisting doing anything.
The confusion of not knowing which notes to play on my violin.
The joy of singing.
The silence underneath it all.

I want to write so much about the nostalgia, but I can't. Not right now.

I want to collect myself, still myself, focus myself. I don't have time for any of the nonsense anymore, I tell myself. I don't have time to waste; I don't have time to be alone.

Dear God, how I feel I don't want to be alone. This is a normal fear; one that you might even say has been programmed into everyone in our society. Or, if not programmed exactly, at least encouraged, even unconsciously.

I still feel that breaking up with Alexa was a good decision, but this loneliness is difficult, this not knowing.

I have experienced confidence before; I can generate it again, if I want to.

I am wasting my time hiding, hiding, hiding from everything. What a strange feeling, this lazy restlessness. I feel like I could benefit with one or the other, but both at the same time, desperately looking for ways to distract myself - what does this accomplish? I end up getting to bed too late, without being relaxed, or really having had any fun.

I think I just really, really want love and am not finding it, so this part of me is kind of thrashing around desperately, feeling empty, feeling incomplete, feeling hungry. In a place of so much desperation, you cannot follow a clear pattern, you can't be strategic or graceful. How can I feel less desperate? Let me phrase it this way: how can I feel less desperate, without unnecessarily shoving away the pain, the fear, the grief?

Unconscious acting out. What balance am I trying to achieve, by acting this way? What part of myself am I denying, that this blindly, destructively restores?

Good night, everyone!