I sing myself lullabies

It's been an emotional couple of weeks here at chez nicola. All things aligned to leave me in a really familiar and uncomfortable place, hopes pinned and constantly crushed. Ignored not entirely, but just enough to keep the yearning fresh. It really and truly sucked, I can say that much. And I'm not really sure where it came from, one thing led to another and it seems like maybe I fell a little bit in love with his things? With the albums and the low light and the photographs and the staging? Is that possible? It seems ridiculous if it is. But somehow also true.

I hate the fact that I'm fighting a constant urge to edit myself here. Like I'm not allowed to talk about what I'm feeling or who I'm feeling it with. I surprised myself and fell a little bit over someone completely not appropriate. He balked. I balked. I got mad, mad at him and mad at me for being so fucking hurt by the situation. But I also spent hours trying to figure it out. I don't want to ignore or dismiss the wound, I just want to figure a way through it. And apologize the whole time for how heavy it is with old damage.

And I sing myself lullabies to get through it. There are certain songs that will always just make everything ok while they're playing, my repeat button is well-worn. 9 more sleeps till Disneyworld and Mute Math at the House of Blues (FUCK YA!), and tonight I'm going to wipe the snot off my face long enough to learn how twirl me some pasties.