Swimmy

Wasn't it Hemmingway that said to write drunk and edit sober? Too bad I never edit... My head is all swimmy as she would say...
Words are wrapping themselves around every breath that I take and I just want to dive in and surround myself with them. Maybe then I'd understand. Maybe then it'd all make sense.
I'm lacking feeling. Perhaps I've finally conquered my biggest imperfection, the most terrifying insecurity of mine. Unfortunately, I know I'm far from it.
I just want someone here. Just to sleep next to, just to dream next to. Nothing else.
Surprising I know.
I'm feeling heavy and weighed down. Tired and misunderstood. Annoying and unnecessary.

I'm feeling not my own. Like a person who has taken the past two years to align herself with whomever would take her. Never really standing alone and figuring out what she likes about her singular self. Or have I done that? I don't know. That's the thing... I don't know if I am being true to myself or not.
There is this nagging at me all the time to be who they hope you are. To live up to their subconscious expectations and melt into their fantasy... It's such a nice vision... I could see myself there so clearly.

I'm wondering if I should talk to someone else about it. More than just one person. It has nothing to do with anything and I could easily carry on this way... but I'm wondering if it would make a difference. In how I keep moving forward that is.
Truthfully, it would make things more of a mess.

Write drunk and edit sober, eh?
More like delete when sober.

Now to cuddle with all my pillows and sleep.