My life is made up completely of watching movies, reading books, wandering around, hanging out with friends, and working minimally. It’s pretty much perfect right now, I am listless and directionless and for once that’s okay. I feel a little stressed about getting a full time job, but that is only because when I do I will be able to get my own apartment and start saving for travel, and I want to do that asap, but I have the whole year and I’m quite enjoying mooching off my mother.
I don’t remember being so miserable anymore, though I know that those feelings sit not too far below the surface. I want to forget that though, and I am learning to let go of the fact that everything isn’t perfect right away. What I mean to say is that I expected moving home to cure me, which it hasn’t, and that really upset me at first. But three weeks in I can tell that I am doing better, for one thing it has become far easier to look on the bright side, and that was something I had lost the knack for. I think it really is about just taking it a day at a time, doing what I please, and regaining myself bit by bit without putting too much pressure on myself.
As for the girl, we haven’t talked in the longest time, even though I know that it’s only been a couple of days. But my new technique of just sitting out the pain instead of being so reckless and selfish with it all is working out so far. I think it’s important to be able to look forward to new things and visualise a future with someone new. If we stayed together I would be consumed, and I mean absolutely swallowed whole, by old pain and that’s never going to be productive or happy, and my love would be a bitter love, dipped in half-hearted “I love you”s.