wild, unwieldy

Joy this wild, unwieldy-- it seems sometimes a bit too dangerous to sink into. In a way, it reminds me of YTI. How I felt so joyous...that my entire inner landscape might just blow up at the rate it was expanding. That couldn't be safe, right? Because you can't sustain that, right?


Already, characters are taking their places, somehow even filling YTI counterparts. So I wonder if I'm just going to honestly repeat this one event in my life over and over again. Measure all things against it, pigeon hole all things into it.


Rewriting that template I created for myself at YTI is part of why I'm not working on RISE here, right? Why I'm starting a completely new novel?


Maybe I'll just acknowledge it here today and let it go. At YTI, I allowed myself to be completely vulnerable to the people around me, invested completely in a couple of people, and took away an odd/beautiful/melancholy idea of what love was. An idea that love was fleeting-- which I managed to turn into an immortal and permanent idea. Amazing, the neuroses.


So if I blow myself up with joy, I blow myself up. I'm not casting anyone here as anyone else there. I'm not drawing any parallels.


Also wild, unwieldy is the amount of stuff I managed to bring here. After an adventurous and only mildly scary trip to the dock in kind of Glasgow, Dad and my reconnaissance for my belongings was a success and now I am looking at how much stuff I have in this room. I need more shelves, more book cases and way less clothes. And this after I threw SO MUCH away in NYC. I am a completely impractical person I fear. Oh well. At least I'm having fun.