truth.

Wednesday. Yes, it's Wednesday, and yes, it will be for several more lifetimes. For several more Top 40 Hits reverberating through my neighbor's open window, at least. I can never escape the trappings of pop culture. 

I am exhausted. Throughout the past year I have had to explain myself so much it makes me sick. I do not want to think anymore. I just want to be able to feel, and I want that to be enough. At this point I can't tell if there are a million thoughts screaming at me, or none. I'm not sure if I am achingly miserable or blissfully content; either one could make sense right now. I just am, I suppose.

The problem is that there has been too much noise in my head lately. I have grown so tired of it that I've somehow managed to dissociate myself from it all. While this makes some sense, I still feel a bit confused and somewhat frustrated. I try to remember to live "in the moment", but recently every moment feels like an eternity. 

I am too awake to sleep. Too tired to dream.

When I was 10 one of my neighbors was growing habanero peppers in his window sill. They looked so beautiful. I knew they must be special, sitting in the sun, slowly turning  a brilliant orange. They looked so alive. Vibrant. I wanted one desperately, and begged my neighbor to let me taste one, just one bite. He eventually obliged, no doubt happily anticipating the moment it touched my lips and decimated my taste buds for a week. I still remember that bite, everything about it. I remember exactly how the piquancy felt, the shock and pain and heat, and I remember how grounded I was right then. I was thrust into simply feeling, being. Sensations.

I could attend cognitive therapy today and every day for the rest of my life until I am no more, spending countless hours analyzing my thoughts and trying to retrain patterns, but the fact is, no therapist can teach me how to feel something. Real, honest experiences are the only thing that will save me.