I have been away from myself for what seems like an eternity. It's like my mind has been trying to make up for all the insomnia I had by completely making me a different person, one that even I don't recognize, and it makes me think I might never get that person back again.
I'm not blaming anyone but myself for the way things turned out, and I know it's horrible to say that that if I could take the last year back I would, but I don't like who I have become. I liked my options, my freedom and independence, and my writing. I have not been able to write a decent poem or story for over a year now, and it's driving me crazy. Being able to stay up for days, drink when I wanted, write what and when I wanted, and go bike riding at 3 am if I wanted was what made me happy. It was what made me, me.
I am now a slave to the inside, and I feel like a housecat that still has the stray cat mentality; never quite comfortable indoors with meals that appear and no open road to explore. I feel like a person that I don't know anymore, and that's what makes everything so hard. If I could think like I used to, imagine and write and go outside when I wanted to, I think I might be better able to acclimate to my new surroundings. But there will always be a stray cat lurking in the wind and moonlight, waiting for its chance to escape.

I have to say though, this entry should not be all in confusion or regret, whatever the case maybe. I think really I have had a very bad case of baby blues, or post partum, whatever they call it. This has probably made things a lot worse and blown everything out of porportion. I really do love the little one, like playing with her and holding her, being with her father etc. but something is missing. Something always feels out of place, or time, or just off. I am slowly regaining who I once was, feeling more energetic, losing weight, thinking again and trying (unsuccessfully) to write. I think one of the biggest problems was that I couldn't think. I was blocked. The thoughts that did come to me were unbearably sad and awful ones, which exacerbated everything more. I miss the people I met at Allen, and the long nights, the writing, the walks in the summer/fall through the graveyard or through town, and in winter to Walmart for foodz. lol. I miss running at 3 am and riding my bike through town near sunset; going to a nice open meadow and writing for hours on end, or up in a beautiful tree.

You may think I'm weird or sad, but I hope that more is taken from this semi-epiphany than that. I hope the spark of hope and enlightenment is glimpsed through the shadows that until recently have decended like inescapable Alaskan darkness. I see the world cautiously through spread fingers, peeking out into the world like inching into the first swim of the summer. I see more than what is just there and hope my imagination will fill in the holes.

peace and love