Do things ever happen to you that you don’t know how to express even though you could talk it to death? Their outlandish and seemingly obvious nature take a turn for the bizarre, and suddenly, you no longer know where to step you foot.
I had that sort of weekend, and it has prevented me from writing anything here. It was a weekend full of internal and external doubt cloaked in what felt like teenage angst. Insecurities flung to the walls, splattering around me like glaring red paint. Subconscious worries flooding my dreams.
It wasn’t pleasant. There is no need to discuss the specifics, because it is mostly resolved now, but the tension and brain pulsing it created is still hovering just to the left of me. My sense of what is true and trustworthy is a little bit more eroded, and my ideas about how I should be spending my free time in my late twenties is a little bit more defined.
What I consider my friendships are more defined as well. Or at least the truth about them is. The truth about who is there for me, and who is there for them. Who I am there for, and who I should be there for.
Oh the beauty of a little pain to make the world sunshine clear.