Getting the Gunk Out
Apr. 14th, 2002 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinI keep a lot of things private. I really do.
What makes my life so gosh-darned difficult and annoying at times is that I have this compulsive need to either a) ramble on endlessly about things, or b) brush up on my skills as the consummate storyteller. Sometimes they amount to the same thing. Some of the time my b) ends up a more embarrassing and sheepish a).
But most of the time, you, yes you, my friend, my confidante, my mere acquaintance, the girl who bought me a drink at the con last year, the guy who played video games against me and lost, you don't know some of the most painful and endearing crap about me.
There's not enough time, I am so busy cataloguing my memories and encapsulizing them and recording them and then saying "Fuck it" and going and living my life, that I really never think to pull out the stops, become a perfectly-realized train wreck of a girl. I just can't do it.
I forget that sometimes I need to let go and trust and just let things out of my head every once in a while. Especially when I am up and feeling good. Tonight I confided a bunch of bullshit to a friend, and she listened, and she never judged, and she listened in all the right places, and it was Good. Yea, verily.
I mean, I do this kind of thing when down, too. I probably overwhelmed more than a few people over the years with my angsty connectiveness. I make friends most easily when I am in dire straits. I am sure most people do.
But this stuff I spilled tonight is stuff I am actually working on, see, emotions and decisions and honest-to-goodness feelings associated with a life that I sort of give a shit about again, and well, it felt really damn good to let it out of my head and to have someone else hear it.
Having to put it all into words ... I've remembered again why I do this thing. Why I keep doing it. It makes things make sense. Things are still muddled and undecided, but at least now I know I'm not going crazy, you know?
Thanks, Erin! You rule.
What makes my life so gosh-darned difficult and annoying at times is that I have this compulsive need to either a) ramble on endlessly about things, or b) brush up on my skills as the consummate storyteller. Sometimes they amount to the same thing. Some of the time my b) ends up a more embarrassing and sheepish a).
But most of the time, you, yes you, my friend, my confidante, my mere acquaintance, the girl who bought me a drink at the con last year, the guy who played video games against me and lost, you don't know some of the most painful and endearing crap about me.
There's not enough time, I am so busy cataloguing my memories and encapsulizing them and recording them and then saying "Fuck it" and going and living my life, that I really never think to pull out the stops, become a perfectly-realized train wreck of a girl. I just can't do it.
I forget that sometimes I need to let go and trust and just let things out of my head every once in a while. Especially when I am up and feeling good. Tonight I confided a bunch of bullshit to a friend, and she listened, and she never judged, and she listened in all the right places, and it was Good. Yea, verily.
I mean, I do this kind of thing when down, too. I probably overwhelmed more than a few people over the years with my angsty connectiveness. I make friends most easily when I am in dire straits. I am sure most people do.
But this stuff I spilled tonight is stuff I am actually working on, see, emotions and decisions and honest-to-goodness feelings associated with a life that I sort of give a shit about again, and well, it felt really damn good to let it out of my head and to have someone else hear it.
Having to put it all into words ... I've remembered again why I do this thing. Why I keep doing it. It makes things make sense. Things are still muddled and undecided, but at least now I know I'm not going crazy, you know?
Thanks, Erin! You rule.
