Wednesday, 12 July 2017

memories from the week



trail of thought
I find it sad that I often find myself with no memories of the past week, the past few days, hours, dreams. Does that mean that the times I've spent were unimportant? Or do I just find them not important enough. I often find my brain scattered against the walls of my room, in a mess. I often try to find something within this mess, but the thing is that I don't know what I'm looking for.

I've been thrown off my writing montage and I've been suffering whiplash for the past few days that I have arrived in Sydney. All the blog posts that's sitting inside my head left, my collection's stuck at 70, and the important part of my book's left hanging. I feel lost. Yet relaxed. Too relaxed. Too relaxed to have other uninvited thoughts inside my head. My mental state has no where been okay this past week. My emotions are all over the place. I don't know if it's because I'm back on the pill or if it's because I was pulled off a pattern I've established in July. A pattern of laziness that gave room for creativity.
I cannot remember much of what happened since I got here. It feels like everything's a dream. Its like time flew and I've already spent a whole week in the western suburb. Its crazy how clouded everything is. It's crazier that if it wasn't for the pictures, I wouldn't think everything actually happened.
I've been out and about, meeting new people, going to new places, talking to old friends and reliving memories. I even had a dream that made me soft and fluffy throughout the day. But the thing is, the optimism that the dream gave me didn't last long. I found myself being swallowed by loneliness, anxiety and the thought that I am actually alone in a place full of people. And I'm too alone to revive the self hatred that I've killed before and befriended it.

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