Contradictory states. That's what one of the runes (to be named after I look it up) says I am in right now. Hope. Envy. not paradoxical states. The paradox of hope is despair. Of envy, contentment, I suppose.
Another sleepless night. And this is after doing 25 minutes of nighttime yoga. Night number four and other people are getting touchy because I am getting no sleep. Go figure. Managed to catch Quarterlife again tonight. Such good looking people they cast, can fool you into thinking you see or know that many good looking people in real life. Lol. As if. And when Dylan and Eric finally kissed, I swear, something happened in my navel chakra, like a bevy of yellow butterflies doing pirouettes or something. And at least Dylan has a job, even if she is selling out. She does need to earn money, we all do.
I do.
Hope. For what? that I'm actually going to be able to do all the things I want to, that I will find a way out off this ice prison and fly and grow and e-l-aborate (aw, I need to continue my Sheikh Arif lectures) and that I'll actually be taught by the same Sheikh Arif and that I'll write that book or novel - or two - and counsel people and figure out homosexuality, bisexuality, gender confusion and be the contact point for all new converts to a religion which frankly I've lost complete touch with right now. And all the other things I want to learn and know and be. A waste of two whole good years, given to or rather snatched away by mental illness, and if I get my wish, I won't live beyond 40.
Envy. Of the same stupid people who are doing the same things differently. Like Samia. Envy that she's reading geography at Royal Holloway? Makes no sense. But the fact that, I don't know, she has a father and sisters and has not thought of me since September while I stew away over here and curse her for being so fickle. Abbas, too.
I mean, why couldn't I have had a middle-class family, not a born into riches extended family that is just now acting middle class because well they have no choice, the empire is dead, long gone and no one travels first class anymore. I was surprised as much as anyone on four days sleep deprivation can be about anything related to the outside world and other people that he said he and his wife travelled economy to get here. And yes, envy that Ayesha now has a job, albeit a desk job, at TCF. And here I am telling myself, "You just need some time." And my shrink telling me, I foresee you working by June this year and me just looking at her and thinking 'Where? How? and why am I not doing it right now?"
And by the way, I suffer from mental health issues - so why am I the one freaking out about being around other people with mental health issues such as schizophrenia or psychosis? I have symptoms, or a syndrome, that covers all of the clusters. I mean - at the end of it all, I am me. And they are them. And yet, I'd shit in my pants if she was to insist I just go into the IQ ward one day and talk to the patients inside. What a fucking hypocrite.
What a loser. I feel sick. As in literally nauseated and just fed up with it all. I need those bloody tranquillizers - I can't sleep otherwise.
Another sleepless night. And this is after doing 25 minutes of nighttime yoga. Night number four and other people are getting touchy because I am getting no sleep. Go figure. Managed to catch Quarterlife again tonight. Such good looking people they cast, can fool you into thinking you see or know that many good looking people in real life. Lol. As if. And when Dylan and Eric finally kissed, I swear, something happened in my navel chakra, like a bevy of yellow butterflies doing pirouettes or something. And at least Dylan has a job, even if she is selling out. She does need to earn money, we all do.
I do.
Hope. For what? that I'm actually going to be able to do all the things I want to, that I will find a way out off this ice prison and fly and grow and e-l-aborate (aw, I need to continue my Sheikh Arif lectures) and that I'll actually be taught by the same Sheikh Arif and that I'll write that book or novel - or two - and counsel people and figure out homosexuality, bisexuality, gender confusion and be the contact point for all new converts to a religion which frankly I've lost complete touch with right now. And all the other things I want to learn and know and be. A waste of two whole good years, given to or rather snatched away by mental illness, and if I get my wish, I won't live beyond 40.
Envy. Of the same stupid people who are doing the same things differently. Like Samia. Envy that she's reading geography at Royal Holloway? Makes no sense. But the fact that, I don't know, she has a father and sisters and has not thought of me since September while I stew away over here and curse her for being so fickle. Abbas, too.
I mean, why couldn't I have had a middle-class family, not a born into riches extended family that is just now acting middle class because well they have no choice, the empire is dead, long gone and no one travels first class anymore. I was surprised as much as anyone on four days sleep deprivation can be about anything related to the outside world and other people that he said he and his wife travelled economy to get here. And yes, envy that Ayesha now has a job, albeit a desk job, at TCF. And here I am telling myself, "You just need some time." And my shrink telling me, I foresee you working by June this year and me just looking at her and thinking 'Where? How? and why am I not doing it right now?"
And by the way, I suffer from mental health issues - so why am I the one freaking out about being around other people with mental health issues such as schizophrenia or psychosis? I have symptoms, or a syndrome, that covers all of the clusters. I mean - at the end of it all, I am me. And they are them. And yet, I'd shit in my pants if she was to insist I just go into the IQ ward one day and talk to the patients inside. What a fucking hypocrite.
What a loser. I feel sick. As in literally nauseated and just fed up with it all. I need those bloody tranquillizers - I can't sleep otherwise.
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