Britney

In my dreams, I am lost…lost in a labyrinth sprung out of my own mind. Sometimes I think about the kids from my second inpatient stay who were too far gone to be able to ever get any kind of help. Most of them were ruined by bad trips. I fear a similar fate.

Too often I fall prey to the notion that every single person and thing that I encounter in my life has some kind of connection to me, is a representation of a possible outcome for me. I think it’s me worrying too much. I can’t tell what’s worse, the awful nihilistic attitude I had before or this. Maybe it’s good that I’m worried about myself.

I hate waking up early every morning but I find things that make days even more worth it: Dark Side of the Moon is my new favorite album, Twin Peaks is my new favorite show, and Babes in Toyland is my new favorite band. I am surrounded by newness and I feel so lucky! But why do we, as humans, feel the need to ridicule anyone who expresses obvious enjoyment or excitement or gratefulness the way I am doing? I find myself monitoring my own words for any sign that I’ve come off as naive or childish and find none. Happiness should really be seen as a beautiful thing, not a pitfall that makes us any less interesting or able to maturely process things.

This is supposed to be a recollection of my own thoughts and my own week but I can’t help but add this: Find moments to appreciate living. Find at least one thing that makes you happy and hold onto it like there’s no tomorrow. Unlearn cruelty. Savor your own existence when you can. ♦