Why does doing laundry feel like meditating?
Ever since I have had to do my chores myself I feel like the moment everything’s clean, my mental health is cured.
Since the format of this series is basically me writing the thoughts that come to my head in the order they come in, without any actual storyline in mind, I wanted tell you I’ve been feeling jittery.
I mean, even if there were a storyline, this is pretty much how I’d tell you this part then too.
Couple random updates:
1: Went to a nearby cafe, (my cafe date with self), and a 30 year old man thought I was looking cute. Though he didn’t really say anything creepy, I felt more unsafe than validated. But you know, that’s the sane response to a stranger man complimenting you.
2: A new person moved in the hostel, her room’s right in front of mine. I’m so glad because turns out my capacity for being antisocial DOES have a limit. We celebrated Diwali together by having dinner at the hostel dining area but dressed in ethnic. Because, why not. She’s a Pisces too, knows BTS (thank God), believes in manifestations and the Universe, and we like the same cereal. I don’t know much about soulmates, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t an occurrence that happens a lot. I mean, how many people do really know about Yoga Bar museli, Dark Chocolate + Cranberry flavour. Right?
3: My body hurts, but I’ve done nothing to make it ache. I don’t know if it’s old age or just plain old emergence of health, but it’s really starting to piss me off. It hurts real bad right under my left shoulder blade. If I start seeing 666 a lot, I’m going to have to start getting worried and paranoid. Ha hA. (You know, because that’s where my wings would be, and they would be cut-off — never mind it was a stretch of a joke.)
4: I read the dirtiest, most psychologically complex fan-fiction, and I don’t know if I should be concerned or be happy that I still am attracted to anyone at all at this point, contrary to what my irl love life indicates.
I have noticed I have a couple spelling mistakes in my earlier write ups because I was copy pasting them on my website, which I had thought I should give up because of lack of readership and the fact that it’s paid but things came up. We’ll see what happens next June. Anyway, coming back to the point, I really do know English it’s just I just have a new laptop and I’m not that familiar with the keyboard style yet. The key placements are same, just spacing is not. And, I’m too lazy to re-read.
Let’s pretend these are text messages from your bestie, ‘kay?
(SeE? I added an apostrophe before ‘kay’, how proper am I?)
Does anyone know how to deal with bloating because dear lord I’ve only been drinking water for the most part but it still doesn’t help?
OH BOY I FORGOT TO TELL YOU.
I am obsessed with this song I found yesterday, Don’t Dwell by barnacle boi, the slowed version especially. It makes me feel something which is intense but I can’t quite put a finger on what it is. Maybe it’s me finally feeling like a grown up, maybe it’s that fan-fiction, maybe it’s the Kim Taehyung edits I watch for that song (the temptation, my fucking God), but it elicits a very strange response in my body.
Now, this isn’t a new occurrence for me since I have this tendency to feel things a lot, being an empath and all, but while listening to it, I wrote a poem.
Flashing lights
On stage and on the street
vintage Chanel wrapping around
My body with a little ache, sweet.
Tiny planes and tiny hoops
Space grays and rose golds
Sandwiches made at 5AM
13 hours, cannot get ahold.
Passion days and long nights
Pyrotechnics and soft lights
Practice practice practice & practice
Bittersweet but I can’t help romanticise
Crisp creases, luxurious leather (faux)
Drip, drop, dripping coffee
Inside jokes and pas (faux)
Without this, how could I ever be happy
-superficial-
Now this also isn’t exactly what it feels like.
Let me try and explain.
Imagine you just came back to your house which is huge, intimidating, and luxurious. The soft padded sound of your bare feet on the wooden floor, and the hollow lyrical clang of you dropping your heels near your bed. The room still smells like your perfume which you’d applied before leaving a couple hours ago. Your partner comes in still dressed in suit, his built body making the buttons work extra hard on his shirt. It’s navy blue and he smells like sin itself. His hand holds two glasses of wine, white. You walk closer and run your hands down the lapels of his blazer. But nothing really happens, it’s just the possibility of it all. The possibility that you both could drop everything and go to Paris for the weekend, no one to barge in your intimate moments, your privacy. The liquor will always be expensive, and the bed sheets always silk. There’s nothing child-like about this. It’s grown up, and sexual, and sensual, and important, and real.
Does this make sense or did I just ramble?
Also, I’ve been having these doubts here or there that maybe what I’m dreaming about won’t come true. You know how people talk about suddenly coming back to reality? Yeah, well this feels different, the complete opposite of that actually. This feels like someone is submerging my mentality in thick quicksand where things aren’t real, just heavy. I feel more connected to reality when I believe in myself.
I just thought it was a nice twist of feeling on the usual way it’s perceived.
Alright, this is enough sharing for one day so now I’m going to go do dishes and get other work done. All these YouTube videos won’t watch themselves.
Mm, ‘kay.
luv,
meera.
