My period ended and suddenly, I have a will to live again. It’s amazing how, as soon as I stop bleeding, life feels good. Hell, I can even run without wanting to die. CRAZY. God, sometimes I hate being a woman. It’s a privilege and a curse.
Anyway… what does Yuka want to talk about today? I honestly have no idea, so I’ll give you the honor of listening to my train of thought.
Lately, I’ve been feeling very happy and sad at the same time—bittersweet, in a sense. I feel like I’m mourning the life I built in Maine. It’s all dissipating. Some people have stayed present in my life, while others have disappeared. And with the end of the semester approaching, everything is about to change again. People will graduate and move away—which, as amazing as that is for them, will still make me sad to watch.
With that in mind, I also know that once summer comes, I’ll only have one year left in Maine before I uproot my life again and start somewhere new. That thought scares me. My advisor keeps asking what I want to do, and my mind just goes blank. Sometimes, I wonder if I can just become her nanny until I figure it all out.
I just want to be free—free from my own mind and from the constant worry my brain clings to. It’s not crippling, but it’s persistent…
There’s a thought that always confuses me: “Happiness is a state of mind.” I agree with it, but I also feel like I have multiple parts of my brain that are never in the same state at the same time. Let me explain.
I’m happy about the changing seasons and the itch to be outside again. Plus summer break coming up. I’m happy with the social aspect of my life. I’m even happy with most of the menial tasks I do every week. But—I’m also unhappy. I’m unhappy because I feel like something’s missing. I’m unhappy that I can rationalize every bad thought, and that I always feel the need to be the bigger person.
I just want to ruin all people who hurt me. I want to watch them burn. The irrational part of me would love that—but I know I only want to hurt them because I’m hurt. And when I really think about that, all the anger disappears and I’m just…sad. That’s where my unhappiness sits. But outside of that one little part of my life, I feel great.
The worst part is—I handed them every knife they used to stab me in the back. AND THEY DID! Crazy…Whose fault is it, really? Mine, clearly…what can I say? I enjoy the pain. Misery feeds my need to run…
Ugh. I need to work on that. Stop chasing chaos, so I don’t keep giving myself reasons to run away…or maybe I just need therapy. Anyone want to tell me what my problem is? Tips? Tricks of the trade?
I just asked ChatGPT what to do…it told me to stop trying to understand my emotions and just feel them, so I shall feel confused before I slumber. XOXO GOODNIGHT!