July 18, 2012

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  I am on vacation with my family. I am writing this from a hotel room because my parents get tired early, and today I am tired early, too – and even though it somehow feels wrong to be online while on a trip, tonight everything is quiet and I could stand to do something with all the thoughts in my head. Even if it’s an incoherent something. 

  We’ve been away for only two days, so I have little to report on the vacation front – but we’re in Portland, and so far it’s beautiful. There are amazing trees, ridiculous bridges, the coffee is good, and Powell’s Books is possibly the coolest book store I’ve ever been to. My family is happy, light. It’s nice. 

  But something weird is going on internally, with me. It isn’t bad, but it’s hard to articulate. And writing here won’t make it make any more sense, to me, or to anyone else, because I don’t know how to explain how I feel – except to say that I feel impossibly alone. Not alone like lonely, but alone like completely and utterly unreachable, like wherever I am is a place I can’t find my way out of and a place no one else knows about. I don’t know if that sounds dramatic, or silly, and maybe it sounds like both, but I don’t know how else to put it and even this doesn’t fit right.

  This feeling comes in waves and often, always. It isn’t new. But this time it is more. I know not to struggle against it – but my parents are laughing with each other and my brother is taking pictures of food trucks and I feel like I’m not actually here.

  I am okay, and I know that I will learn things – but I am tired, I guess, of feeling like I can’t acknowledge what I know is a big internal shift, even if I can’t really explain myself. This trip is lovely, and it has the potential to get even lovelier, and I am enjoying it very much, but I am also feeling things I don’t know how to name and don’t know what to do with.  

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  • 2:25 am
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