Breathe Deep.

My windows are all open to the night air. I'm wide awake, even though I have an actual schedule to adhere to tomorrow and have been battling feelings of uselessness for longer now than I can recount. I catch glimpses now of my subconscious, coyly peeking out at me and sticking out its tongue. It still tells me I can't do this, and that I'll fail. And it's not always speaking in my mother's voice.

My relationship with my parents has changed after the huge fight last month. It's still a frightening place to be, but it's also like being fired from a job: I don't know what I'm doing next, but I have to determine it for myself. I've had more orders come in, and that's good. But it's not enough. It's never enough.

There are still old injuries acting up, making me melancholy around the edges. I'm not lost in some deep, silent funk, but it's made life difficult lately. Life feels weighty and grave, and I don't know how to shake that. I can't shake it. It's a new sort of reality, I guess-- everything's related. Am I growing up? Am I just getting bitter? Am I just growing into a greater sense of reality? Am I going down or up? My only metaphor tonight is being blindfolded in a strange room. Only I'm not sure if I'm blind or if the room's just dark.