(no subject)
I dont know why these types of things have been happening lately.
Backstory: I have been losing a lot of little material things over the past few months. I've misplaced my cellphone, wallet, jewelery, homework, books. I've lost my iPod for good, I think, although most of the other things turn back up and i dont worry about them too much while they're gone.
My latest loss was my poetry journal/personal notebook/sketchbook/diary/irreplacable thing. It has class notes and journal entries, poems i have never typed, letters i was meaning to send, notes to myself about certain things, personal reflections - a lot was in it, it was what I have to show as far as my growth in writing the past couple months. I have been going frantic the last couple days, trying to retrace my steps and look anywhere that it could possibly be. I wasnt that worried, because things have been showing back up, and this morning, I woke up with a feeling that I would find it.
Earlier today, before work, I was at Jonathan's house and we were out by his truck and he was getting it started again when I looked in the bed of his truck and saw my notebook. I knew when I saw it that i must have left it in the truck when Jonathan was painting it on Friday afternoon, and it rained this weekend. My book was soaked through, and the pens I use are water-soluble, so everything was just a watercolor mark on the page. all my poems, stories, letters - gone. And its not like it smeared a little and I can still read it - everything but about four pages is erased.
I just started crying. And I kept going. I mean, I know it's just a THING, but it was something I put so much into. It was all the words I had wanted to remember. SO much was in there about Seattle and Kyle and all the things I wanted to remember about howi felt and what I saw and what he said....all the poems I wanted to finish up and turn in, all the entries that are due at the end of the semester for my GRADE. I know that I cant ever feel the same way i felt when i worte all of that, and I cant help feeling like a total idiot for having lost my notebook. It was irreplacable, and I felt like I got punched in the gut.
It was the first journal I felt honest in, that really mattered to me, and it's gone. I want to find some sort of cosmic lesson in all this, but i really cant. All the time I have spent on what I wrote, all of it seems to be in vain. I have to start over again, and I dont want to.
But I have to. I know I will. I just needed a place to vent and considering the place i have been writing everything in got obliterated, i had to vent in here. Im just so mad at myself, and I really feel like that notebook had become my last real tether to reality and now that tie is cut.
This whole thing seems to be a pattern. Even in my dreams. Last night, I had several strange dreams with place and people i know well, as well as places and people I have never seen. I woke up feeling strange and a little disoriented and I knew there was a lot in my dreams to make me feel like that. Lately, so many of my dreams are having to do with loss and death and change and moving on, and i dont know how to feel about them. On one hand, Im really disturbed by them. On the other, I find them comforting and emotionally revealing.
But sometimes, I would rather not have to think and worry during my sleep.
I do enough of that when I'm awake, thank you.
Backstory: I have been losing a lot of little material things over the past few months. I've misplaced my cellphone, wallet, jewelery, homework, books. I've lost my iPod for good, I think, although most of the other things turn back up and i dont worry about them too much while they're gone.
My latest loss was my poetry journal/personal notebook/sketchbook/diary/irreplacable thing. It has class notes and journal entries, poems i have never typed, letters i was meaning to send, notes to myself about certain things, personal reflections - a lot was in it, it was what I have to show as far as my growth in writing the past couple months. I have been going frantic the last couple days, trying to retrace my steps and look anywhere that it could possibly be. I wasnt that worried, because things have been showing back up, and this morning, I woke up with a feeling that I would find it.
Earlier today, before work, I was at Jonathan's house and we were out by his truck and he was getting it started again when I looked in the bed of his truck and saw my notebook. I knew when I saw it that i must have left it in the truck when Jonathan was painting it on Friday afternoon, and it rained this weekend. My book was soaked through, and the pens I use are water-soluble, so everything was just a watercolor mark on the page. all my poems, stories, letters - gone. And its not like it smeared a little and I can still read it - everything but about four pages is erased.
I just started crying. And I kept going. I mean, I know it's just a THING, but it was something I put so much into. It was all the words I had wanted to remember. SO much was in there about Seattle and Kyle and all the things I wanted to remember about howi felt and what I saw and what he said....all the poems I wanted to finish up and turn in, all the entries that are due at the end of the semester for my GRADE. I know that I cant ever feel the same way i felt when i worte all of that, and I cant help feeling like a total idiot for having lost my notebook. It was irreplacable, and I felt like I got punched in the gut.
It was the first journal I felt honest in, that really mattered to me, and it's gone. I want to find some sort of cosmic lesson in all this, but i really cant. All the time I have spent on what I wrote, all of it seems to be in vain. I have to start over again, and I dont want to.
But I have to. I know I will. I just needed a place to vent and considering the place i have been writing everything in got obliterated, i had to vent in here. Im just so mad at myself, and I really feel like that notebook had become my last real tether to reality and now that tie is cut.
This whole thing seems to be a pattern. Even in my dreams. Last night, I had several strange dreams with place and people i know well, as well as places and people I have never seen. I woke up feeling strange and a little disoriented and I knew there was a lot in my dreams to make me feel like that. Lately, so many of my dreams are having to do with loss and death and change and moving on, and i dont know how to feel about them. On one hand, Im really disturbed by them. On the other, I find them comforting and emotionally revealing.
But sometimes, I would rather not have to think and worry during my sleep.
I do enough of that when I'm awake, thank you.