i dont know.
i reached out to someone recently. a friend i've tried hard to stay in touch with. i've known them for a very long time, i've mentioned them in roundabout ways all throughout my writing on this site. one of my very few true friends.
i talked about things that were weighing on my mind, some of the things i've written about in my last few entries. some things i had never put into words before. it was so nice, and fulfilling. i cried a lot, dredging up pain i've been feeling for the last, fuck, 12, 13 years. that's fine. i cry. i've made peace with it.
but now, here i am, with topics of so much less importance on my mind, finding it impossible to say anything to anyone. flipping back and forth between apps hoping someone, anyone, comes online, messages, hoping i can think of something to say, some way to spark a conversation. looking at the same person who so recently i was discussing such sensitive things with and thinking, "i shouldn't bother them." well, if none of my fucking essays on my brokenness have bothered them, why would this?!
so here i am, friday, alone, drinking. not a terribly unfamiliar feeling but not a great one either. not a terrible one, thanks to the booze. but not a great one.
this too shall fuckin pass.