Old journal entries

I found some old journal entries that I really liked. They weren't dated. Some of the things my friends said were really poignant. I shake my head at how pathetic I was, but it's still pretty interesting.


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One of the problems about my creative process is that it usually happens very late at night. Whenever I get an idea, I fall asleep, and then it is gone for good. That's not fun, or productive at all. I wish I never needed sleep. 8 hours a day is a lot of time to spend unconscious.
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So here I am, like something out of a bad soap opera spin-off, pining over imaginary versions of people I used to know and counting the checkers on my vans. I'd like to try and play checkers on them one day. Just because that'd be kinda weird.
I feel like I've lost my muse. I don't have anything new to say. They, the infamous They, tell me to keep writing writing writing until something worthwhile comes out but I've been doing it for six months now and still nothing.
I feel like I've lost my humanity. I used to write about love for life and anger and despair and beauty and ideas but now everything is either like or dislike as if it's on a list of "my interests."
There just isn't any passion in me anymore, it's all gone, over, like my friendships and meeting that boy (who I'm beginning to think was just a figment of my imagination) and RENT rehearsals and the only time I feel like anything at all is the fifteen minutes a week when my parents are taking Jim to boy scouts and I belt out songs from musicals to the cat while I do the dishes. Is it pathetic that the highlight of my week is singing badly in an empty house? Where did the beauty go? At this point, I'd prefer just about any emotion over the nothing I am experiencing now.
It's worrisome. What if I'm becoming a mature, responsible adult?
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Shame is the only emotion I feel, and it's not really for any good reason. I kind of stumble blindly through the months, through the school, not looking at any of the other people who are better than me, or think that they are better than me, or don't think they are better than me. Because maybe if I don't look up, no one will rate themselves against me and I won't rate myself against them.
I have become very familiar with my feet this way.
I hate myself and my run on sentences and I think about how I'd rather be a tree. Sometimes I run into people when I walk, but I rarely trip because I always star at my Vans as if they might take me somewhere.
Hannah/Hanna stops me on the sidewalk and says, "Babe, there's a lot more to this world than pavement."


This is stuff from a few years ago, but it feels like AGGGGEEESSSS. It's interesting looking back on stuff and seeing where my mind was during those times. I'm in a much better place now, emotionally.