I am tired, and that makes all the difference. My crankiness is really, more than anything else, a function of my sleepiness, I think.
I dreamt in romantic comedies again. If I were really a character in that dream, I would probably be being advised by a benevolent, older, wiser figure. This benevolent older, wiser figure would tell me that I can never resolve my issues with said boy until I resolve my issues with myself at which point I would have an epiphany, all of my internal conflicts would vanish, and the handsome prince and I would ride off into the sunset.
I am not entirely convinced that I like the complexities of reality better than the finger-snap epiphanies leading to sunset horseback rides, but I am not entirely convinced that I do not. I am entirely convinced of very little beyond my own almost Socratic knowledge of no self knowledge.
I've written this entry before, dozens and dozens of times, that's because it's a recurring theme. At the moment, all I am is exhausted.
Previous | Next