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anachronome, adj.

@anachronome / anachronome.tumblr.com

the right weapon and the right word.
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reblogged
klowee
Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.

Sylvia Plath (via klowee)

Source: help-n-quotes
#welp i found the right note to end the night on#sylvia plath#as usual i hope this isn't absurdly misattributed or mistyped#cold and thoughtless and hard to understand#pretty sure this is the self i nurtured throughout 2018 and now she is ready to break out of this carapace#and eat it for its necessary nutrients
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i’ve just had an extremely fucked up day. i get so brutally and thoroughly smacked down by my inability to understand the absences that structure my life now. when i’m down, i can’t get back up again for hours or days. sometimes i’m out in public while it’s happening and i think of that allie brosh image of biking home from the video store in her hoodie with that manic, free grin on her face. what on earth do other people see when they look at my body on days like this. some sort of rumple of fog with fabric bits stuck on, i guess?

[you guys... i’m sorry i’m like this. i want to be thoughtful friend and fandom friend and art friend and instead i am just always showing up and sobbing in a corner for like six hours while i eat all your chips and then borrow a blanket and fall asleep, still crying, in some place where probably i make stuffed-up-from-crying wheezing noises all night and am still in the way when you have to get up and go to work the next day.]

#self things#dint rebluggle#brain nonsense at anachronome's school for wayward girls#bodies comma an absolute disaster#three geese flying north in march#the friend ship#what alone means#obsidian is a naturally occurring volcanic glass#sacrificial anode and the corroders#stucknesses#seasonal affective time loop#and you know...#like...#grief and fuckedupedness and hopelessness and whatnot#go the fuck to bed anachronome#go to sleep anachronome
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as it turns out, i might be avoiding work, responsibility, and any suggestion of mental focus because i am desperately sad. i tried the mechanism of asking myself why i can’t focus; why i’m not opening the document and doing the thing; why i’m letting the hours scurry off by other ways.

and then, in what turned out to be an answer, i suppose, i scrolled back through the pages of my inbox where i keep what is unresolved. marked unread there, though i’ve read them, of course, are high-water marks: giving notice; [the breakup, unattested]; the play i still haven’t read; planning the visit that happened and the one that didn’t; the marriage announcement; money, tickets, logistics; blanks and attempts; thanks i’d forgotten, for commitment; excitement i’d forgotten (or relief, or approval, i think now), about my social chemistry with the person the excitement was actually about.

it’s amazing how much i forget; it’s amazing what one wouldn’t remember but is what happened, when you stack the years on each other:

three years ago yesterday: a whole three, collected from an airport.

two years ago yesterday: two home together from a different flight.

one year ago yesterday: one girl; no planes.

yesterday: a see-through sparkler.

the day before that: inside, ensnugged, bewrapped, submerged, away.

#self things#dinnut riblugg#avoidance#three geese flying north in march#too bad i can't remember all those tags i added recently#here:#brain nonsense at anachronome's school for wayward girls#sacrificial anode and the corroders#the friend ship#come as close as the air
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