I'm craving sesame buns and bbq kalbi. I'm craving spicy ramen. I'm done craving. It's 2:29am. The internet is slow. I'll never finish Mad Men and having it pause every second frustrates me. I can't be frustrated at this time. It then started to play again, but for some reason the show changed into another show starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. This is what I get for streaming online and not owning AMC.
People are getting married. 7 years, break up, and after a few months of dating a church boy, she's getting married. She's younger than me. I don't know her. There is no relevance to this story.
This, I am warning you, is me writing at 2:31am now (I can't help but update on the time). I've been home for an hour. We left at 12:30 and the train wasn't working. I walked to 8th ave again. I love walking at night in the city. People are out. I feel safe.
I haven't had a chance to bake or make a decent dinner. This is when I know I'm busy. Before, I wouldn't go to events because I was "busy" and really, that just meant I didn't want to go. Now, when I say I'm "busy" I mean I have no time to relax when I get home. I go straight to bed (or try to watch Mad Men but fail).
I'm reading more. I'm sleeping less. My skin has never felt so disgusting. There are many things going on. I'm not making sense. Can't you tell by my short boring sentences?
He says I do too much, I want too much.
I feel something missing, and sometimes, that worries me. I want something, and it isn't there. I can't actually say what I want (because I can't put a finger on it) but I know I don't have it.
Does that make sense?
Love me, understand me, take care of me, show compassion, show interest, inspire me.
30 hours this week. 30 hours next week? And then I am off on the road. But I won't be writing a book and I won't be on drugs.
I'm looking forward to it, I am, but I'm also dreading it. Expectations, I have too many. And when things don't go my way, I become flustered. Who doesn't?
These short sentences will make no sense to me in seven hours. I'll re-read this, and will apologize to my dazed and confused self, and any readers out there.
This is not normal.
This is an entry that will go on, and it won't end because I won't end it.
I'm writing just because I've been wanting to write for so long, but had no time. I don't have time now, but I'm forcing myself to just write anything. Updates, updates are hard to type up. I find them boring. I like to recreate specific moments, the way I see them.
This entry is not about specific moments. Rather, it is about a mind that has not rested. Reflection is needed. Self awareness.
Don't become those girls who work all the time, and are too busy all the time.
Memories. People. Timeless. Joy. Facebook is a tragedy. Unread messages, glimpses of life. Picking at our curiosity. Our need to compare. Our need to know. We know too much, and too little. We know details, but not the whole. We know your public persona, but not you. We know what you want us to know. Know is a strange word and I really want to say now. We're hiding messages. We seek love. We want to be cared for. We want to belong. We need to belong. Interaction, even if virtual, somehow comforts us. It's a mess, and we've gone into deep. We don't have long chats. We check up on each other and know everything about each other without ever uttering a word. We know with our eyes. We know what you want us to know. Here we go again with the know. It's all a game.
Sleep will come in 10 minutes. Awake, again, at thirty pass eight. Train. Falling in and out of naps. The busy day will come and it will go, and before I know it, I'm here again, trying to watch a show, trying to slow down my day, but it will happen again. And I won't be able to tell you when it will stop.
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