soapboxdiner

You can plan a pretty picnic . . .

If you could do anything with your life, as defined by the fact that you tranfer air particles into and out of your bod, what would you do?

Because I tell you in all honesty, I function best in adversity. My brain is clearer, I am more focused and more determined, and I manage stress sooo much better. It is when I am as I am now -- without complaint -- that I break down. How can that be? There is a festering pool of anxiety that throbs inside my bronchi All The Time. If I could, or if I were not sane, I would spoon it out just to rid myself the chunk of poison that grips my shoulders, and my stomach, and my mind.

But instead I put on a brave face and fantasize of gypsy skirts and thighs that don't touch, and gardens filled with flowers and filling a house with warm and comforting smells of roasted chicken with carmelized carrots for all the happy people I love to enjoy. And knitting lace, and putting up preserves. And daily walks alone in the woods next to a stream speckled with leafy shadows and glittering with mottled sunshine. And the smell of pine and earth and fresh wild strawberries. And never having to trouble myself with money or material things. And dancing to playfully artistic melodies without care.

I heard on the radio today that happiness is contagious. A person who is happy causes a 15% increase in happiness in the people around them. And I am not happy, so therefore I contribute to the diminishment of happiness for those around me. But thinking of that gives me The Guilt, thinking of what an awful person I am to withhold happiness to anyone. Oh, The fucking Guilt. What a bastard.

And I want to live with my boyfriend in a house of our own, but he doesn't know The Guilt, or The Stress of reaching higher than the gods ordain. I want to hide all the imperfection from him and keep him immune and happily ignorant. A fish can love a bird, but where would they live?

5:54 pm - 12.16.08
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