bitterdiva

The beginning of the end is the beginning

Well, I finally finished Order of the Phoenix. It's full of ups and downs; luckily I get to talk with my peeps on Sunday about it. Right now I feel like beating someone with a fish but I'm too tired and headachy to really do anything.

I've been feeling a bit off lately, I don't know what's persistently scratching at me like a fungus that won't quit. Perhaps it's chugging through a book that I've waited so patiently for since I finished Goblet of Fire last summer or the upcoming presentation and training (wreck) that I have on Friday. Regardless, I'm in a funk; and though typically I never let any thoughts of something other than a bitch pass from my fingertips to my blog it lies upon this site with its rotting stench.

One of the things I've noticed that I do is build something up in my life. I place this miniscule bit of happiness upon it's glittering pedestal to admire and cherish in the times when things are but happy and well. I use escapism often in the forms of cinema and literature to distract my mind from the current bog of frustration. Everyone uses it in some form or another, illicit substances, clothes, games, music, cinema, literature, sports & exercise. It's an outlet that humans use to take one's mind away from the shithole house of reality we reside in every day. No one is safe from life's little treasures of mystery and misery. We take each moment of happiness for granted but when the pain returns we are reminded of how good it was when it was non-existent.

We are all selfish to our needs, to our own pain, we chalk off other's pain because we do not experience it first hand. We do not understand what a person is going through, but we have empathy and sympathy towards it. We say something like, I understand, and we hear that everyone experiences pain and regret and whatnot the same. Humans are different, we are all genetically different right down to our wonderful DNA to which at this point hasn't proved itself to be un-unique. Therefore I must ask myself if the pain you experience is the same pain I experience, but neither will know because you are yourself and I am myself. My own half-assed, sleep deprived, cherished paradox.

It's probably the oppressive heat wearing away at my patience, or the shrinkage of my room due to the two-foot thick carpeting of clothing. The quietness of the evening is louder than it has been in a while, although the fan is breaking up the silence and the accompanying relentless high pitch whine in my ears, it’s getting quite late and I feel the heat rising up in my head from staving off sleep - for it is imminent.

12:15 AM

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