nervous habits

EMARCEA G FOREST
AUG 21, 2024

I don't remember when I wrote this but does that really matter ? - just another random digital diary entry -

I slept through the day today and that’s okay. I was hungover and tired and needed sleep. I’ve been thinking a lot about dreams and love and relationships recently. [And that’s true, I have. I love to sleep and dream when the bed is comfortable and the air is right and the vibes are flowing. The times I have nightmares, the times of unrest or feeling like I’m being haunted are times when I don’t feel safe. And usually my dreams are like this one I had:

I remember waking up in the middle of the night, feeling like sleep paralysis and the touch of a cool blade sliding across my neck, over and over until I jumped out of the dream. Following a group of vampiristic—and by that I mean energy suckers or drainers, the effect of the energy of something being sucked into another vessel, like a drain—embodiments that resembled a humanistic form. Being strapped to the wall, taking a witchcrafted shape of a mandrake plant, think Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. A strange loop of escaping the grasp of a blade and being tied to a cage.

Or they’re something crazy and insane and totally neurotic. Sometimes it terrifies me that my imagination is so wild, but I am tamed to my core and grounded in my mind, so I can convince myself to survive and be placid and pretend that I don’t feel everything and everyone all at once. The entirety of a universe.]

There’s another storm rolling in now and just like the storm of yesterday, I find myself in awe, falling in love with the simple things, the quiet gestures, the notes of subtle scents that lure me into wanting more, to know more, to see more. I didn't think it would happen so fast, I didn't even realize it until today, sitting next to an almost stranger, wondering what his skin might feel like next to mine. And I found myself wanting to know more, to touch more, to reach into his soul for no reason. [Or maybe there is a reason, whether it be fate or a lustful desire to connect with another human—honestly I think both are one in the same, but we tend to need some kind of explanation for encounters that feel like this, you know—I do not care. Love is love. And I do not think it to be the latter. I know lust, and I do not feel it in my heart when I look into such sweet and strong eyes.] I am guilty of falling in love. I love hard, and I love endlessly. I feel strong too, knowing what I do and who I am. I love myself for the ways that I have learned to know myself. It wasn’t an easy feat. It was really fucking challenging actually. [Because I hated myself so much so that I wanted to kill myself for feeling anything at all.] It’s like hyperempathy [superempathy] and no one ever understood, until I looked around and found similar eyes. Eyes that have felt things, been through things, climbed the mountains or whatever else. Equal energy. [Something of the sort. Sometimes things just feel right and good. Sometimes things are like nervous habits; you don’t even realize its psychological effect until it’s too late.]

From being a child with wide eyes to a fucked up and neurotic teenager to a now wide eyed young adult, I have to admit that I still feel just as strongly as I did when I was learning to love, because you never really stop learning, and I don’t ever want to stop loving[or learning], even if it kills me. And sometimes I feel angry and vengeful all at once and I feel so hard that I want to explode, and then I remember myself and who I am and how everything in the world has came to be and I remember that I am still alive and here and now. And that is enough to satisfy me. I might be crazy, but I am free.