Spring makes everything so much easier to bear. Time assumes a strange quality. Suddenly, after months upon months of darkness, there are sunrise-tinted mornings and those exquisite, almost absurdly long evenings when everything seems to stand still. The sun sinks slowly across the sky and I lose track. Of time and of myself.
To be honest, I'm tired of my feelings. I'm tired of feeling and crying and so very bored with talking about it all. Right now I just want to be, which in itself is an astonishing way to be. I'm quite unused to this.
I'm for once not keeping a track record of every thought, of every trace and scent of feeling, and sometimes it bothers me. But it's also a relief; not caring about how I feel, because then I am free to feel things without them escalating. I'm resisting the urge to start thinking about things too much, because it only tends to get me in trouble.
Thinking myself out of happiness (and into sadness and self-hate) is intuitive for me, etched into my spinal chord. So to avoid that right now, I feel things vaguely, fleetingly. I know there's a point where I'll have to think things through and in a few weeks' time I'll most probably be back to normal again, nosing around the nooks emotion. But right now I need a breather, I need a few days of calm.