Journal Entry #1

December 16, 2024 (Restless Mind - Sam Barber)

Who are you to me? I’m not entirely sure yet. You are someone I have consistently given, arguably, too much leeway to. The idea of writing this makes my heart feel heavy, and at the same time, my chest feel hollow, like no deep breath is big enough to fill my lungs. I don’t know why I have a hard time being honest about you. I think if I’m too honest, I too can see that this may be wrong of me to continue and entertain? However, at what point do I learn to just go after what I want? I want the playfulness that we have in between movies. I want the forehead kisses that you give me before you go. I want the invitation to be in your presence, reading while you play video games. I want the good times I know we are capable of having. Being able to admit that I know you’re capable of being the person I want you to be comes with admitting you are also someone I know is capable of letting their emotions fog your ideologies and the path you take to get what it is they truly want. Is the sacrifice of feeling secure worth the things I long for? I think the unsettling feeling in my stomach is a tribute to the discomfort I get when I want to trust you. This may hurt your feelings; there is a physical pain and discomfort I feel when I write about you. I’m not sure if it’s because pathologically I can expect this to end the way it has many times before, or because of the uncertainty that comes with being able to say your name. -----------, when you change your mind do I still have that privilege? I ask the question like I know it’s coming. I want to believe that it’s not, genuinely, but how can I know that it won’t when we’ve had the same conversations all year?

The “pull” we talked about feeling, I think we may feel it differently. I think that “pull” for you is being able to see the possibility of more and feeling like you’re being tugged at to ask the question. The pull I feel is gravitational, celestial. It’s an orbit of galaxies that are waiting to collide. A standstill of tragedy that may or may not be as beautiful as the astronomers say. There are those that say a supernova is chaos and ruin buried in light, because they chose to understand the feeling of what it is to collide. They are afraid of the aftermath. Then there are those that appreciate the steps that it takes to get to that point of ruin and hope to see the aftermath because only then can we finally see the beauty to come from it. They don’t fear it, they hope to ravish it and understand the waltz of colors. Personally, I fear the aftermath but am ecstatic to find out if you can dance that well. What if there is no aftermath? What if we simply just exist together, and conform to the very different yet very beautiful worlds we have circling around us. I hope we get to explore every single one.

But, how do I keep the fear of your indecisiveness from lingering when we’re thinking of planning a trip? We’re finally doing the things we said we would and I, for some reason, can’t just find it in me to be grateful and excited. Your actions are plastered on the walls of my mind and I can’t see this through without taking in my surroundings. Even without my glasses my peripheral is 20/20. It’s just Kyoto but how am I supposed to help you experience Chicago with a fear as crippling as this one? With puffy eyes and nausea? Maybe, I’m thinking too far into the future right now but will the plaster eventually crumble giving me more space to breathe? Will the fear subside enough to have confidence in your character; in your stability? When can I expect the walls to stop feeling suffocating; when will the engulfing nervousness loosen its grip on me. Perhaps I’m being dramatic. At times, yes, it is crippling. It’s mostly a crutch right now, an injury I’m forced to lean on, and reminded of whenever we take a step forward. But injuries heal, and with time I will stride confidently next to you the way I pretend to when we’re out with friends. I just hope the scale I’m trying to learn to carry will balance out, because on any given day one side is significantly heavier than the other,I am at the mercy of your emotions.. Yesterday, delusional and buoyant, and today feeling all of my body weight on a bruise that you didn’t intentionally give me. Hands calloused from holding on with every bit of strength I have. Nails broken from sinking in my claws for so long, but I think it gives my femininity a bit more personality. This entry is about me, right?