jung

memories, memories - the ones I try to reach. They're absent, blurry or lost in time, so imprecise don't dare place them in a timeline;

memories, memories - they ask me for them, for me to make an effort and mark the X in the right spot which is always too subjective for me in a questionnaire format - the more direct the more subjective, go figure;

memories, memories - "when?" - I can only reply the now. It's all blurred behind there, I know, but I don't know why or how or when. But I know! Just not as precisely as I feel I need to know... everything;

memories, memories - waking up in tears because my dreams fill in the gaps with what I fought to forget. It's my double life. Memories that... answer. Or scenarios that are my true and honest feelings, that cannot be expressed anywhere else. They're useful guides.

memories, dreams - my heart raced. It's very difficult for me to contact someone. It is. Most wouldn't know, most don't know, I think the few that know don't know the extent of it. The fear, the physical symptoms. This is the only place/way I don't feel a slight panic for just... typing things out. My little bubble that I know to be transparent, but in my head, it feels completely isolated...

memories, actions - facts are flags. Worries are flags. I always saw them as flags or squares of fabric hanging on threads. For many years, I had a red flag, a blue flag and a white one. The red was the biggest and tallest, the white one was smaller and to the red's right side and then a blue one appeared slightly above the white one but further away. It became the 2nd biggest flag when it became a more dire subject. Then the purple one appeared when something new needed to be solved. Each carries its own weight on me, each is a big worry - like watching some coloured post-it notes on a wall except they fly with the wind and move around, near a river where I look at for comfort (perceived sound and vision). It has the same tree, the same sky, the same clear water, but the damn flags are always to my right side in a black background.

actions, memories - they called after I wrote many emails, made many phonecalls and pushed myself to race for some finish lines I've been trying to cross for many years. I'm so close... but anyway, they called. After the effort of contacting, talking, writing, when I needed some recovery time to go out again for what should be a very calm and nice dinner.

memories, lack of action - they said they were here. Here where? "Around here, tell me where you are"... my heart stopped and then started running out of my chest. I felt nauseous... I couldn't just scream NO, GET AWAY. This is the thing... when you still have pending issues with whom you need to NOT see or stay in touch with... You'll need to put up with them (minimally) until things are sorted. Pure sudden invasion of time and privacy, of a couple of hours I had to recover from all that I'd done (a couple months worth) before having a nice time and relaxing. I did my best to not antagonise but also not to let myself feel affected. It's not my issue directly although... it is in ways they aren't aware of.

inaction - I stood completely still. I recoiled from a hug. I have a couple of people I love to be able to hug. Everyone else... will have me frozen and uncomfortable and it's very noticeable - for some reason they keep doing it, even if I move back which kinda makes me laugh... anyway, they talked. And talked. And talked. And I wanted to show I needed them to hurry by standing up against a wall... until I got weak and started shaking and had to sit down on the sofa. They talked... a lot.. about them. Always about them. And about everything I prefer not to know and have been fighting to not even think of. I sat down and closed my eyes, I couldn't pretend anymore that I was ok. My voice went soft as I saw everything getting blurred... but I felt sorry for them. I did. And I hate myself for it. It's a mix of sorry and hate. I feel sorry for their incapacity to feel. I feel sorry they'll never feel true love (whatever that is), that they'll never see the world as colourful. I feel sorry they don't know their world is completely limited, skewed and that... they won't have the full human experience. So, I heard them. To the end. Even when I was fighting to stay awake and not pass out - my body just says "I'm out" and I have to ask it "Please stay for a bit". I said goodbye. Many times. They always start going away and then back to talk... I did something that I hate doing (I'm working on managing it) - I interrupted and finished everything they were saying. "These" people are predictable. I know exactly how it's going to go. I know what their discourse is. So I was relentlessly rude in stopping them as much as possible - of course, they don't take hints at all so it doesn't work but at least I try... right?

memories, awake - when I closed the door I sat down on the ground. Weak. Frail. And then it sort of... came out. Slowly. That whatever they said brought anger that I don't want to deal with. In fact, I can't be really angry anymore, I used up a lifetime of it in a decade or so.

(thanks for the dinner you mardy bum! It was stressful to have someone insisting that I'd still go at the reservation time but in the end, it always helps, and you always make me laugh in that way that makes me sure I am alive and that joy is what I like to feel the most - always appreciated -nanananauhhhh na na na....)

memories, dreams - and then, of course... as my dreams are just like a pondering figure of me thinking, my night was filled with stuff I'd forgotten - my night-me saying "Hey! It messed you up to hear X or Y because of this:" and went on to fully repeat experiences I've had. With people I've lost in all kinds of ways, places I barely remembered (until now, they're very clear unfortunately) - "it's here".

awakened, memories - woke up not knowing where I was, which is always bad because means I'll need to situate myself, remind me of my life (now) and not think I'm in the past, etc. My night-me thinks I need relive all of the bullshit in all its minutia to somehow get over it? That's a way, yes but I'd like some control over it...

that's why pleasurable, beautiful dreams are SO very important to me... they're like my wishes and real feelings not the stuff I don't want to think of, just the stuff I really ENJOY to feel!

jung is right. He always was. If you remember your dreams, take notes. Write them down. They'll explain a lot. You'll soon see a sort of... grid or path that starts to make sense. It'll give you direction. Warn you. Show you what you really want or not... they're the key for the organisation of thoughts, processing emotions and feelings and experiences, sure but they are amazing tools... they show you clearly (in someways a bit too clear when your conscious is trying to make it smaller than it is...) what you should treasure or let go...

letting go has never been this easy, but apparently I need to go through these spikes of emotions, recollections, and confrontations until I can finally zip up my little world and stay invisible to whomever I choose to hide away from.

i'm exhausted as if I worked out all night long... but relieved. There's some cool stuff in those memories. And it sure motivates me to focus on finishing all of this stuff before the end of the year (fingers cross) in what has been... a lifetime really. I just didn't know it until 7 years ago when the stage collapsed and I saw the real world. And I hated it so I had to rearrange it completely... I'm happy now. I'm proud.
i'm not exercising today but having been more active in dancing I might try to improv something to some cool sounds.

yeeeeeeeep... I love how writing it down makes me so much more comfortable... it's here. Not in me anymore, it's in the screen, it's... there, not here. À bientôt!