#Ugh the whole thing of Nobodies trying to (and failing to! To varying degrees) convince themselves that they don't have emotions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milk-shy · 7 years

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incoming: dump of emotionally overwrought writing in reverse chronological order

mission update: shanghai

oh my god this is grim. i take back everything i said about heathrow being a hole. like ok i could maybe cop it if i’d had a proper night’s sleep but as it is…….nope. 4:16am GMT oh dear lord help. like i’m actually suffering— and what the fuck is this lack of wifi like legit utter shit what am i doing here

also like contrary to popular (read: tristan’s) belief that i am 100% a certified self-hating racist i really do try not to be but when you’ve just spent 11 hours on a plane full of the most revoltingly stereotypical mainland Chinese people it is really fucking difficult like oh lord manspreading and spitting and obnoxiously loud conversations to the nth degree

and this kiwi group ew i fucking hate people can i just go back to oxford and bury myself in its satisfyingly insular intellectual ivory tower forever i am a child of gentrification and over-education and indie pretentiousness thank you very much

actually miss oxford sm already it’s fucking ridiculous like??? ugh it is admittedly only one weird little pocket of the country that i’ve actually gotten to know but i have nevertheless gotten to know it, and while it’s a crazy tourist-town Saussurian simulation of a place, and not remotely representative of england or of student life or of (normal) academia or of anything at all, it is inevitably my conception of all those things, and while i’ve only really spent about seven months there at most it can’t help but be formative, and i have lived so much more of an actual life there than anywhere else. and yet at the same time it’s only ever a rushed overworked 8/9-week pitstop every time, drop in and tire yourself out and then leave, and sometimes it’s like no time has passed at all.

i miss all the fuckin chain stores, that’s the first thing everywhere i go, i have a chain café/grocery store based understanding of national geography. sure there’s raoul’s and the missing bean and vaults & garden but like nah hit me up with the depressingly understocked familiarity of the walton st co-op pls.

wow this is— genuinely, really fucking weird, i’ve never felt quite like this before— i always had some sense that i was going home before but it doesn’t feel like that at all now— of course i will get used to it again no doubt but i don’t… want to right now. i’ve just gotten so immersed in my little enclave of tristan and the various concentric circles of the #squad and that whole familiar rhythm of being in college (i mean, seismic shock of the Teresa Walsh Terror notwithstanding)— i don’t want to go home, what the fuck have i ever really had at home except strained familial relations and new zealand’s climate fucking up my skin (eternal intercontinental tradeoff between clear skin and drinkable tap water tbh)?

it’s just a thing i’m saying right now and i know it’s going to pass but i don’t like auckland anymore, maybe it’s just the way i lived there, i don’t know, but i’ve never had more than a distant impersonal relationship with it— that’s the problem with seeing it out of a car window 99% of the time, you don’t get the grudging familiarity of the walks to libraries, and late-night supermarket runs, and the v specific touristy cornmarket st miasma of lush and shitty coffee and buskers of varying skill

i mean, you’ve got to make memories in a place, and then you start to love it, right? i have no memories of any sort from auckland. just things that have become familiar from sheer weight of repetition. but i never loved it really--?

look, it’s just that you spend hours and hours on a flight with no human contact and you start to believe everyone is like dead or something. just be rational about this-- you will arrive and you will check your phone and amy will be making ‘lets get shitfaced’ plans and tristan will be all primed to message you requesting nudes and various group chats will be arguing about something or other and your mother will be irate about the delay-- nobody has fucking died. and also he probably still likes you. i mean seeing as you spent half the flight crying to leonard cohen that is probably a bit of a relief.

and auckland isn’t really a shithole, come on. like alright it’s conveniently a bit grim in july-september but genuinely i’m convinced that your one day of a glasgow ‘summer’ was much worse than auckland winters can ever get. just keep yourself busy. go shopping for some clothes. run a bit. familiarity isn’t always bad. the place gets trendier by the day and you love that shit.

i just feel like i’m only now, over the last year-ish, starting to learn how to (at least pretend to) be a functional adult, and i don’t know how to exist as anything other than a vague overgrown teenage malingerer in auckland. like how can i really explain the feeling that i’ve never really lived there? like there are places i know, sure, but— it just feels to me like a bit of a relic i’ve outgrown. i mean i want to move, in any case, i certainly don’t want to live there after i graduate. sorry mum but you can fuck right off with that whole idea. i just could not do it i’m sorry. flee to wellington at the very least.

Ok this is dumb and melodramatic but I'm 35000 feet above the Ural Mountains and sort of not in my rational mind right now and I think genuinely I'm a bit drunk lmao fuck me

FUCK this is so shit I can't fucking be alone like this I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this-- people aren't supposed to fucking be alone!! I'm going to have to go on a goddamn fuckton of late night drives listening to Billy Joel and wandering down remote beaches chain-smoking and crying out of weight of sheer loneliness--

On that note I am truly alarmed by how much I'm craving a menthol oh dear me

lets just be clear I do not want to actually become a smoker that would be Very Bad and also almost certainly result in your mother disembowelling you to the tune of her ear-splitting harpy shrieks

pre-departure taylors is becoming a depressing sort of ritual isn’t it— except it’s sort of just me this time. i have no energy for reflections. just want to say in my defence it wasn’t all bad. in bits and pieces it has been lovely. i think i have learned to some extent to be okay with this. that i have things i struggle with (another term, another failed effort to get a diagnosis) and that doesn’t mean necessarily that i am sad. that i am a sad person. there is just a force that acts on me. it’s not me. i don’t deserve to have all this self-hatred directed at myself. like climate and weather, right? it is not me, it’s not my fault, that it is sometimes inclement. and i have had a lot of sunny days.

what are you going to do then? back on the weight-loss train. churn out that novel, i believe in you. get good at smiling and being aggressively polite and making tea. plough through that reading list. write the best troilus & criseyde essay annie will ever have seen. volunteer somewhere. play some jazz piano. get back into drawing. possibly be an intoxicated hoodlum loitering downtown every now and again. don’t worry. it’s chill.

#winter17 #writing

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