blackout

12am, i scribble half-formed lines on the pages of an old journal. time isn’t real anymore, you know that just as well as i do. but i’ll keep trying, i’ll keep fighting. even when the psychology backs you.

it’s just… i’m getting tired of the late nights, the long drives, the biting my lip. so sparks flicker and fade out in my karaoke eyes, and if i’m really finished… maybe it’s for the best this time.

maybe winter’s finally got me in its grasp. maybe the colourful lines and the spinning tracks just keep going, and going, and i can’t breathe, because twisted nostalgia has got nothing on me. and oh, i feel the snapping wolves, i feel the razor-blade teeth.

and the sticky tree-sap, getting under my fingers, pulling me down to the floor. but you don’t get it.

if i go to sleep, i’m not gonna be myself anymore.


I’ve been struggling a lot with burnout of late. I’m kinda in the perpetual state of just-barely-not-giving-up most of the time, have been for years, so it’s not new to me, but when I wrote this, about two weeks ago, it was pretty rough. A lot of my writing, and especially poetry, is really tied up in a lot of dark, bad feelings–and I learned how to write during some of the worst times in my life, mental health wise. So like it or not, my work habits surrounding it have been hugely influenced by depression and anxiety.

Sometimes, writing has really helped… and other times, it’s just an excuse to keep myself up late, and worry all the time, and paralyze myself with indecision. Which I really resent–because it’s the one thing in my life I thought would never be weaponized against me, by my own brain albeit. This safe, good thing turned rotten and bad. But it’s a constant battle, and sometimes it just gets… really exhausting.

Weirdly, revamping the blog has made me feel a lot better about this stuff, though–I think I just needed a new frame of mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do with this site, and I’m really excited, and feeling a bit better.

Lots of love,

Lorna

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