August 10th, 2019

(no subject)

I’m waking up on the roof with some coffee. It feels wonderful outside. I’ve been looking at houses all morning. Not because I have the means to buy one but because it inspires me and encourages me. (finding encouragement where i once would have found the opposite.) I woke up this morning and got ready for the day immediately and I think I prefer it this way. Today anyway. Routine is magic but so is spontaneity (and everything in between but that’s beside the point.) Something about authenticity over falseness but then one must consider keeping the peace. The sun is bright and it warms my skin but it isn’t uncomfortable yet. Prolonged exposure and other possibilities. I went on a late night walk for the first time this week, last night, and it was very nice I think I’ll do that more, but actually. So many ideas and only one reality and one now. The thought recurs, who do I want to be. Open-ended and outdated. There is still so much to be done and I am in no state to do it all but I will anyway. It will never be even or fair, huh? Too much attention or I can’t help but notice. I’m an observer. By default and regardless of want. I see it all and some days I wish I didn’t but it’s pointless. I had bad dreams last night, “bad” because they’re all too familiar. Been there, undone from that. Some things just aren’t an option anymore and that’s okay. Fine. Find the peace that comes from knowing even when you’d rather not. My coffee is warm and feels nice on my throat. Speaking in whispers beats keeping it in, but you won’t be heard regardless.


I can never believe the effects that Instagram has on my mind and soul and life. I wonder if it’s just me or if this plagues everybody. It’s been a bit over a week since I truly stopped using it and already I feel more at home in my mind and in my life. Bridged separation. Time moves slower because I choose not to waste it. I got tired of looking down. It is a fantasy world that I get lost in so easily, such temptation. It is always the same cycle. I release the app, enjoy myself, and eventually try it again - thinking it will be different. But within a month or two I’m back to my bad habits and any inspiration I gathered from using the app has been long gone. I remain in that loop for a while before I finally release it again. I often wonder if it’s just me who can’t handle it...if everyone else uses Instagram reasonably and responsibly but I just don’t think that’s true. I think it’s a type of plague on our collective consciousness. What good is connection if the price is loss of self? Maybe it’s just my perspective (a consideration that must always be made.) To me, the moments of waiting- the quiet time in the morning- free time- boredom- these moments are precious for us especially in the exploration of self. But we’ve sacrificed them. We willingly trade them for infinite scrolls where nothing is retained, only time lost. How could we get to know ourselves if we’re constantly either a.) observing the false narratives of others or b.) convincing others that we are who we show ourselves as. It leaves no time for true introspection. It leaves no time for boredom and the creativity that blooms from such. I like myself better when I’m away from the app, and that is all I know for sure. I don’t want to waste my time. I don’t want to look back on my 20’s remembering my days being filled by staring into a screen that’s covered in irrelevant half truths. I don’t even want to know those people. I certainly don’t want to hand over my precious time for a curated glimpse of their “reality.”

And now when I share good or bad news it’s personal. Now when I wonder how someone’s day is, it belongs just to us. I find something sacred in privacy. I’ve lost myself too many times.