can you read my mind

Sometimes I think my brain is my own worst enemy. It has these thoughts that are just crazy. Like “where the fuck did you get that from?”

Or maybe its my heart. Maybe it is my heart that is illogical.

In reality our heart never speaks to us. Maybe it is our amygdala or our hippocampus or our cingulate gyrus. But it will never be your heart. Technically speaking.

However, I think yesterday my heart was speaking to me. It was running circles in my chest. It was beating itself against my rib cage so hard, that it felt like I had just ran a mile and i kept gasping for air and no matter how many deep breaths i took my heart was still going thumpthumpthumpthump and trying to make use of my lungs to say something.

Psst. Heart. What are you trying to say?

Im. Really. Just. Tired.

The past few days i have spent writing my thesis. Sent it in at 11:10pm. I wish i could say it was brilliant. It was not. My fingers and brain have forgotten what it means to write something scientific and meaningful. These words. These words that i write right now, they arent meaningful

It is interesting to watch a friendship get deeper into its roots. You feel yourself getting closer to a person. Natalie is a new friend. And its just nice to have those get to know you convos. She brought me a nice big calzone last night and we talked about the craziness of Russia. She told me about her dad who went through so much trouble to get out of moldova. Can you believe it? Someone else is from moldova too.

I told her about the dryness around my eyes. It is this patch of dry skin, like the desert at the corner of my eyes. And she claimed it was the lack of sleep. Ya think so? Im so tired of hearing alarm clocks at hours that one shouldnt wake up. Today alarm rang at 6:40am. I didnt get up until now. It is 7:30am.

I have a final in a few hours. I didnt even study for it. This is the new Elina, apparently. So cocky, she may grow a cock soon.

Sia. Breathe Me. I think sometimes this song says the truth I am afraid to think or say. Sometimes I think it is the story of my life

Help, I have done it again

I have been here many times before

I Hurt myself again today

And, the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame

Be my friend

Hold me, wrap me up

Unfold me

I am small

I’m needy

Warm me up

And breathe me

Last night I walked back in the dark parking lots, like I usually do on late nights. And the horizon was pink. I swear the sky was pink even though the sun had set hours ago. And the train made its earth shattering way down the tracks with sounds that always seem to make my heart want to run after it. “Take me away. take me away on many adventures.” There is something so wonderful about trains. And the night sky was filled with stars. And I saw Orion and I whispered “I havent seen you in a while.” And Orion winked back at me. I love Orion for the pure fact that he cant ever really run away from me. He will always be up there in the sky, and even if i dont see him for a long time, I know he will make his presence to me. He will not run away from me. Its good to have something so stable. And it was so cold, my fingers hurt. I tried to wiggle them around. I played with my breath. I tried to see how far I can make the smokey breath go. I watched as a long smokey snake emerged from me and flew into the air, towards the light. And i sang a little in whispers and walked speedily past the frosty cars.

Tomorrow I am done. It will feel good to be done with fall semester. It dragged on too much.

And Im going to have to work on finding myself a volunteer or internship at Mclean hospital. I want to help people. I am ready. I am ready to lose myself in people. I am ready to share my heart and my brain and smiles.

I need to work on myself. This entry is a reminder of that. Please. Stop depending on people. [I was starting to depend] I cant depend. I cant lean against walls that will break and fall apart at the slightest tug. [the wall has collapsed]

I think in a few days, I will close myself off in my room with my bookshelves of friends that have missed me. [i have missed you too, you pages and pages and pages of words]. And Ill have my leather journal, where my secrets are kept hidden and quiet. And Ill have my paintbrush and Ill let the watercolors speak what my heart has been yearning to say. And I’ll remember. That its okay to be alone.