Bedrooms

I like looking at pictures of bedrooms. You know, the really artistically-photographed ones where they purposefully leave the bed messy and the pile of books in the corner and dust is everywhere and then put some kind of gray wash over the whole picture to make it look old and faded. I like them because I think a bedroom is a place where you're the most vulnerable... the space that is fully yours. You can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. Scruffy navy flannel sheets next to a chilled windowpane might be the senior in high school who stops at the Speedway every morning to browse through the discount movies for a $1 for his girlfriend, and they sit downstairs in his finished basement and watch an especially awful one together while drinking hot chocolate with a little choco-liqueur mixed in that he nicked from the liquor cabinet that his parents forgot about he knew about. His girlfriend might have short wavy red hair or long straight dirty-blonde-ish hair and she's got at least 3 piercings, two of which he knows about (probably nose and eyebrow). She might have thick-framed glasses and plenty of moles on her arms and likes to lick the milk mustache off his upper lip when he drinks something dairy while they cuddle with the family Boston Terrier underneath the red blanket on the couch downstairs.

I won't go into any more details because it's late, but I wanted to make a point that I like bedrooms. And I like inventing the people that live there and what they do and how they live. But I only know a few styles of people and they'd all end up being described as "misunderstood" since that's all I know how to make them be.

I did go on another emotional thing yesterday. I felt bad. Then I finally got back on my 750words account and typed the heck out of that day's entry. Almost 2,000 words. I don't remember half of what I said but it's just not important anymore. I read a quote today... something like "forgetting about the mind is the key to happiness" or something, and I was wondering if that was really true. I think at some point you're going to have to sort everything out in your head yourself, but to be honest, my head feels really full and heavy at the moment and I'm just trying to wade through the fog enough to function.

I used to read something and immediately delve into it if there was a part of it I didn't understand... I never put up a mental block and try to wait for someone else to explain it. Now it's like I don't even want to take the steps into my brain to try and learn something new, or get interested in something. Any mental effort at all I shy away from. I just don't want to mess with it. It's like I can't even read the language of my own thoughts, and the words are harsh and soaked with something that laden me down so that I end up wading through mud. Or perhaps I'm just tired. But I've been like this all day and I don't even know.

Brandon's been a real help. I don't normally try to write about him directly here, but... he just... everything. Everything I say or do isn't new to him, and if it is (rarely) then he puts himself in my shoes and tells me what I want to hear even before I know it myself. I guess all this mental strife will go away when I'm older but I've only got at least... 8 more years. 9 more years. 24-25 years old.

I told myself I want to go into art school but I don't think that'll happen, unless I wandered back to it after a few years of doing something I didn't like. And a year is a long time. The months fly by but still, a year is a long time. I have decades left in my life. And already one factor is decided so I know I'll be happy no matter what I do. But I was thinking about psychology... no math, no test tubes, just the brain and how it works and the chemicals that make it do what it does. I could go into a counseling center and listen to people and not be like those complaisant doctors that are just "it'll all be ok, dearie" all the time. I want to listen and I want to help. Teenagers, maybe, if I get a choice. Or I could just... well, it'd be good information to learn anyway. Interesting to me. Truly the brain is the last frontier.

But. Maybe all this is PMS... I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when all of a sudden I realize that I'm going to die someday... and that I'm going to lose Brandon and my mom and my dad, and I started crying, and then I realized that all I would care about would be losing them and no one else, and then I scared myself in that I put all of my love into 3 people and how sheltered a life I was living and I was just trying not to make a sound because it was late, but I just cried and cried... so whatever this is, it's bad... I don't want to feel that way, to where I can't deal with my head and then go off on these big tangents about how it feels in my mind. It's funny how I can describe it so accurately when I don't know what the problem is. Yesterday it was like I was curled up in a corner and these huge attacking scribbles were floating and moving around me and all I could do was try to separate the part of me that is me from the other... stuff. I don't know what it is. It's just noise. You know in Photoshop where it gives the option of Noise Reduction? That kind of noise. I can't really think clearly at all.

And it only happens every so often but more often than not I'm just in this perpetual state of gray... no overwhelming optimism (or pessimism, now that I come to think about it), but my parents accuse me of being negative when I'm just telling it like it is. I don't sugar-coat things, which is bad because it only reminds me more of how the bad outweigh the good and how things are unfair and it gets me so... wrapped up.

I don't even know anymore. I never knew. But I'm living. Almost all of my eyebrows are gone. But he doesn't care. "My capacity for you is endless. My capacity for you is endless."

My capacity for thought is endless. Let it hit bottom; I'm growing weary of falling. I wonder what I can do.