"It’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life."
Alan Ball, American Beauty
"1. I’ve been trying.. no, struggling to find the words that can correctly articulate the surging swamp of thoughts that are submerging my mended mind.
2. I say mended because for a while now I’ve been telling myself ‘you’re better’. You’re better now. Better now. Better now. Better now.
3. However over time I developed a stutter and what started as a positive affirmation has somehow morphed into command. A knife between my shoulder blades, pushing me; ‘be-better now’. Be better now. Be better. Be better. Be better. Stop!
4. My brain is experiencing some kind of technical difficulty, I’ve said the word better so many times that it has lost all meaning and now I have no idea what I have to be. Be. Be something. But what? What sort of something? The urgency behind this unknown is stealing the air from my lungs; my lungs that are already struggling on shallow breaths.
5. I’ve been lacking a lot recently, not just oxygen, but sleep and hope are failing me also.
6. I am hopeful that I will regain hope; alas the absence of hope in the first place is proving to be significantly hindering my ability to be hopeful. Does this make sense to you?
7. Nothing makes sense anymore and I have become an impossible knot of contradictory feelings, of rational and irrational thoughts clashing like fire and ice. Fire will melt ice but not without being dampened by the resultant water in the process. I do not know how long I can go on like this.
8. I am beginning to question my entire existence. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just appreciate what I’ve got? Because fuck, I have been blessed with so much… I think that a piece of me is broken or missing. Maybe both.
9. I can’t pinpoint a time that I lost myself, and I can’t conjure up a reason from the broken fragments of the past… There is no such thing as closure.
10. Most of the time I have no fucking idea what I am talking about and I just wish I could tell you - tell anybody - how I am feeling, what’s worrying me, why my heart beat feels more like a punch in the rib-cage than an electrifying pulse of life and vitality. But I can’t. I can’t ‘be better’."
"Lie down and look up at the ceiling and breathe with those curiously fragile lungs of yours and remind yourself: Don’t worry. Don’t worry. All is as it was meant to be. It was meant to be lonely and terrifying and unfair and heaving. Don’t worry."
The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home,
Night Vale #31.5,”Condos” (via fleurlungs