There's some kind of shift happening in my brain and I haven't been able to put my finger on what it is or why it's happening.
I'm normally easily entertained, but of late I've found myself sighing with impatience through TV programs that would usually keep my attention. I've quit playing Words With Friends and Draw Something -- two games I'd felt hopelessly addicted to until one moment, mid-game, when I just thought to myself: I am so fucking tired of this.
I've lost patience with tons of the blogs in my reader and I deleted hundreds of them one day, on a whim. Hundreds. And I don't miss them. And I don't know why.
I've considered deleting my Facebook and Twitter accounts ... I think about it a few times every day. How freeing that would feel. Most of the things I read on Facebook are useless and mind-numbing, if not completely irritating. My blog seems tiresome and old, kind of like me. I have no compulsion to delete it, but it's on my shit list.
I don't sleep well, and I can't lie in bed for longer than eight hours, or my bones begin to hurt. If I don't feel the sun on my skin at some point during the day I feel slightly neurotic.
I think about how much I annoy myself and how much I'd like to take most of my possessions and throw them in a dumpster.
I started journaling again with brutal honesty. This person has hurt me and I can't stand them right now. That person should slap himself in his own face. I'm not worried about some theoretical person finding my journal some day and being like, Wow, Grandma was kind of a bitch. I'm not trying to explain to someone who the people I'm writing about are.
And despite all that, I don't feel unhappy. I think the apt word would be restless. Have you ever simply felt you were supposed to be doing something different, somewhere else? I feel like I forgot something very, very important, and I just can't remember what it was. Maybe I am supposed to live in the woods or maybe I'm supposed to live on the beach. Maybe I am supposed to go back to school. Maybe I am supposed to get an MRI. Maybe I should have a farm, or a vineyard, or maybe I should raise pigs. Or become a vegan or that person who drives the zamboni at the ice rink.
The way I think about myself is not how others think of me; I know. I wonder if I have inherited a short fuse or wanderlust. I wonder why I want to wear hippie clothes and turquoise jewelry. I wonder where my will power went or maybe it didn't; maybe I did this on purpose. I wonder if I am a know-it-all. I consider what others must say when I'm not in the room. I consider that they may say nothing; I don't speak much. I won't interrupt you. I look like many people. I blend. Maybe I disappear.
I consider how irritating introspection can be. I apologize. I wonder if I am a people-pleaser. I wonder if I care.