081217

I think it's true when poeple say that it's easier to write when you are sad. I have been okay lately, which weakens the urgency to pour it all out. I don't know.... I'm kinda in this limbo of self-pity and constant fatigue. Like there's something wrong with my body. Work has been tiring.... give me a break. I have slept okay, but this period is where I don't sleep as well as last time.

I did the math: I am more physically active (I run almost every day), I am intellectually stimulated (always something new at work, and I just picked up python - let's see how long this lasts), I am supported by a cluster of great family and good friends. But I'm so sleepuy and salty.... and I hate it.

There is only one reason for this, and I hate to admit it: Love. I can't help but think, these past 3 years... my Christmas has been blergh. End of year is always a heartbreak time for me, like a bitter karma. I know, I know, new year will come and in the past 3 years a new prospect always comes up and everything feels way more than okay again. But after a while it feels false, no? Like a bulk of my happiness depends on this thing. If I could choose... maybe I'll choose to be crippled somewhere else, not love.

Admitting this is hard. I want to think of myself as an ambitious, independent person who can survive on her own. And then I was introduced to love, and I realized that hey, I used to think of love as a given. As easy. Now it's my weakness, and I can only hope that I'm getting stronger from all these encounters.