Where to begin? How do you tell a group of invisible strangers that your life has been complete chaos for the past month that school has been out even though you spend 80% of your time in your PJ's which only goes to prove how unstable you are when 80% of your personal turmoil is self-inflicted? Or do you even tell the strangers because you can say almost anything to strangers because there's a high probability that you and they will never meet, saving you from the soul-crushing embarrassment of perhaps over-sharing, but people you know in real life on the other hand, hold all the power in the world just for being apart of your world and maybe you shouldn't share how depressed you are or how worked up you are over the Boy Thing's freckled hands or how sometimes you get really upset that your hair won't do that thing that Zooey Deschanel's does? Who are we kidding? Of course I'm going to tell the invisible strangers. Who else would I tell? The people who I know in real life and who care for me and who have on several occasions made it known to me that they would be there for me if I ever needed them in times of trouble and self-doubt? Oh wait, I think I'm confusing reality with my books again. I might have just accidentally described Augustus Waters. This rambling diatribe has only confirmed how much crazy accumulates in my brain when I go too long without blogging. Seriously, if I don't get this shit out somehow, I just might end up committed one day. Maybe I should make friends with the men carrying the butterfly nets and large needles now while I still have the chance at amiability.
I guess I just want to say that sometimes you overvalue your intellect and rationality. Sometimes you pride yourself on your ability to think clearly and one day God basically shits on that idea by throwing raging hormones and overbearing depressive thoughts at you while your back was turned. One day you're diligently studying for finals and preparing for Summer Stock auditions, perfectly happy and proud of being single and focusing on yourself and your writing, and next thing you know Boy Thing is invading your pre-sleep thoughts which had previously been reserved for books and Woody Allen. One day school is out and summer has come and how could you possibly feel anything less than beaming when the world looks like it's been reborn, and the next thing you know the colors are dulled and your body feels too heavy to lift out of bed in the morning and whenever you talk to people you have to consciously remind yourself to smile.
I forget that now matter how hard I may try, I will not always be in control of my life. Or at least all of it. What do I control? Certainly not how I feel. But I control what I do. And while I may not know how I'm going to feel tomorrow, I know that I control the choices I will make. I know I will wake up. I will eat my breakfast. And I will open a book. All, thankfully, by my own accord.
Also, maybe one day I will teach myself how to express my rambling thoughts without so many run-on sentences. It's a style choice, alright?