that joke isn't funny anymore

i am coming to you from the hull of a sailboat. it's midnight, and the waves are gently and recklessly tossing the boat from side to side. i'm eating gas station m&ms and the sky is imposing. jung claims that a common cycle of myths involving a hero who gets lost at sea, eaten by a sea creature, and then slices his way out when the creature lands on the shore, with the amniotic quality of water and the sea creature as a symbol for the womb, points to a longing to attain rebirth through the return to the mother’s womb. love is dynamic: it can be lost, longed for, and reborn. and so can i. 

people change. this is a fact of life that, when you're 19 and heartbroken, is hard to swallow. but now i'm 22 and jaded, and i'm the one who's changed. pain is almost always the main catalyst for change. my short life has been full of pain, and the worst pain i ever felt happened on january 29. profound loss leads to profound suffering leads to profound change. but the last phase of this progression happens in the same way that the leaves on the trees change from green to orange: slowly and imperceptibly. in the short time i've had recently to catch my breath, pull up a chair, and put a hand on my own shoulder, i've realized that the person i sit across from is entirely different than the one i knew before january 29. this, incredibly, is how i've gained a small bit of self-compassion (something that has felt elusive for so long). i think it's because i am so curious to get acquainted with the stranger in front of me. 

i am the fucking architect. i've written that before, but it's never felt so true. even if other people respect you, you can always be the one to steal your own autonomy. it is also true that the only person you can count on to be there in the end is you. you have to live with yourself. i'm taking everything back, even the dog, dumbass. 

i drink a lot more coffee and smoke a lot more weed now. i'm on antidepressants that work, and left a relationship that doesn't anymore. my ship was a tempest. i am free, even if i still have pain inside me. my phone is currently turned off and it's a strangely small slice of peace that i needed. i'm so tired of answering to others, because it also means waiting for them to answer to me. my heart does it naturally. so sometimes, i need to turn everything off and watch my cat sleep - he doesn't answer to anyone. 

jung also says that "it is difficult to imagine that this rich world has become too poor to offer an object for the love of human atoms". i have to agree. he thinks our unconscious is a wanderer - trying to come back to love, to the world, to understanding, which is really an enfolding, being held in your mother's arms. have you ever just laid beside someone in silence? with only the sound of your breathing, experiencing the world separately, together. have you ever just let the waves rock you to sleep? 

i've seen this happen in other people's lives
and now it's happening in mine