Here we go. Back at it again with the Spooky themes. It’s All Hallows Eve-Eve, so, indulge me.
If you do, I promise to repay in kind with a “harrowing” tale that is sure to send shivers of some kind down your spine…
I am afraid that talking about my grief is a selfish thing. I am afraid that I am not grieving or have not grieved in the right way. I am afraid for people to see, and know, and judge. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion that I am the only one judging myself here.
But I need to talk about it….
Hey, hey, hey, welcome to Triple A, and no, it’s not car insurance. It’s a blog where I write about how I feel in a way that will maybe resonate with someone, somewhere, out there (though it will, doubtless, just disturb most people). In all likelihood, it’ll just be me, sitting here, screaming into the abyss as usual and waiting for someone to scream back…
I’ve been in a creative rut lately—and I’m sure many of you can probably relate to this problem a little too much right now. However, as usual, instead of being gentle, I’ve proceeded to berate myself mercilessly for not being more productive. I’ve refused to listen to my feelings. I’ve ignored them. I’ve chased them away. The irony, of course, being that the longer you avoid facing your discomfort, the more uncomfortable you become…
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about happiness and why it seems to so often elude me.
“Are we happy?” is a question I find I am constantly asking myself.
Sometimes the answer is a flat “no”. More often than not, it’s a mental shrug followed by an, “I don’t know” or a, “mehmmph”. But it’s never a, “yes”…
I saw it coming about a thousand miles away, and yet, I still willingly walked headfirst into this maelstrom…Why?
Why do you keep repeating the same cycles when you know exactly how they will end?
Because you still romanticize bullshit. That’s why. But being aware of this fact, on its own, is not enough to make you change course…
At the beginning, you float just atop the surface. But slowly, you ease in. And then you begin to sink. Some unseen force pulls you under, softly, gently, but firmly, with conviction and malice.
Until, at last, your fingers graze the soft silty sands of the ocean’s floor…
Have you ever entertained the fantasy of death, of dying? I’m not saying everyone does this, but come on, I’m sure as hell not the only one who indulges in such melodramatic and unnecessary mental folly…
I really didn’t think I was going to be able to write at all this week. My mind has been totally consumed with dread, fear, and anxiety for so long now—there is no space for anything else. No, this week is only good for ranting and emotional breakdowns. So, I figured, I might as well write about that…
Spooky Season is in full swing! And with Halloween almost upon us, I’d like to take a turn into some thematically appropriate topics:
You’ve all heard of “Ghosting”, presumably…While I can’t speak for every ghost out there, as a chronic Ghoster myself, I think I might be able to provide some insight into the phenomenon…
WTF is healing?
I don’t know.
It’s been 5 years and it still hurts so fucking much when I look at pictures of you.
I always feel sad around this time of year.
Don’t say you’re sorry.
You don’t have to be sorry, just know that I get this way at the end of October…
The Performance of Grief: What people expect from you and what you expect from people in return.
When you lose a loved one—anyone you hold dear—you will find yourself suddenly saddled, not only with the heaviness of Grief, but with a weight of voyeuristic expectation…
The idea is to write something every day, quickly, without fretting too much over words or taking any time to edit; just let the words flow in a stream of consciousness! I’ll see if they give me a story, a lyric, a poem. It doesn’t matter. If it blossoms into something fuller later that’s fine, but it’s ok if they remain fragments. Life is made up of fragments. Some of them become stories and some of them are just pieces of a larger story. Some fragments are singular moments in time. Forgettable or life changing they all have their place. -Lorelei Moon