Drifting.
Floating in feelings of loss.
Lean on the small choices.
What can help me.
My nighttime routine has turned to showering the day where I didn’t accomplish anything off. Completing the extensive skin care routine followed by swallowing down my night meds (aka horse pills). I look forward to these pills where as lately in the morning it is hit or miss to partake in that part of the process. I open the laptop, and write pair it with some sort of song and then move on to diving into the novel I have chosen.
Books have become an escape. A place to feed my imagination and ignite all of these wonderful hopes and promises I make myself for the next day. Tonight I fantasize about the romanticization of my tommorow life. I’ll wake up to sun light and want to take Bentley out. I’ll be motivated to make the dress from the fabric that has been draped over the back of the white wooded chair next to the window where the city sounds rush by in the cold weather below. I’ll put a record on the machine and dance in my living room while cookies bake in the oven. Feel freedom in wandering to the bookstore and I’ll feel inspiration and direction and confidence to chase the next fantasy. I will feel worthy of taking someone’s time…
But fear slowly creeps in and thoughts that it is more likely that I will live another pointless uneventful day tomorrow.
Even if I promise myself I think I have trust issues and feel I can’t depend on me.
What would it look like to keep my promises to myself? What would it feel like?
For now…
For now .
.
.
Read
.
and sleep.