bliss-sad's Diaryland Diary



I think, somewhere along the way, I stopped being completely honest with myself about the way I feel. Not about anything in particular, really. This isn't some cryptic way to disguise my discontent with anything or anyone in particular. It's more like, I'm realizing just how much I've cut myself off from my emotions.

This has been on my mind because I unearthed my paper diaries from 2007-2009, and I feel like I have a lot to learn from myself.

I used to write with such candor and passion--such raw honesty and emotion. There was such a sense of ME in those words. And while they're mostly the "tortured" ramblings of a teenage and early-twenties coke-head alcoholic, there's more than just that.

Despite the stupid decisions and the addictions, I had a very strong sense of self. I mean, I was an emotional basketcase, but I really knew myself. I allowed myself to feel everything. I admit that this is probably one of the reasons I was so crazy, but I at least I was honest about being insane. I might not have been able to recognize the highs and lows of my feelings as mania and depression, but at least I explored them.

Nowadays, I don't allow myself the pleasure of enjoying the beauty of melancholy. There's this demanding little voice in the back of my head that says, "Dust yourself off and move the fuck on." And I don't think it's been as helpful as I'd like to admit.

I mean, I know I can't just act on every feeling that passes through my borderline brain, but there has to be some sort of happy-medium, right? Growing up and maturing doesn't mean disallowing yourself to feel, does it?

With the gift of perspective, I'm able to sort through those old diaries and find pieces of wisdom and while that's pretty great, the overall feeling I'm left with is: where did this bitch go?

Where is this slightly impulsive, almost fearless, free-spirited, passionate and emotional being go? What happened to her? Why did I extinguish my own flame?

There are several aspects of old-Nichole that I'd like to leave in the past, but there are also several that I plan to bring with me to the future.

And that starts here, in my diary.

2:33 p.m. - 04.09.13


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