differently than any drug, that's washed me into sleep

So it's going to be a month and a half this time.

I don't exactly know what to feel about some things, and the uncertainty is sometimes unnerving.

But we always get something out of it in the end. Always.

And going through whatever it is we do/will go through adds to the person you end up becoming.

If people can collect stamps, or get a new tattoo every time they visit a new country, or collect prepaid sim-cards from around the world, or save a single item from every person they've been in a relationship with,

If people can hoard letters, or photographs, or shoes,

if people can collect memories,

then I don't see why one can't collect feelings and experiences.

Maybe doing what I do allows for this, and few would have a use to do that (collect feelings and whatnot).

It's interesting though, drawing on something real to create and/or re-create.

I wrote once, a few years back, about how impossibly riled I was because some preacher was going on and on and fucking on about marriage and the rest of it and how he'd been married for bloody long. I distinctly remember being pissed off because there wasn't much else to his marriage besides length of time. (I can't remember why but I was acutely aware of this point)

He hadn't been a druggie and an alkie, during which his wife stayed by his side and saw him through recovery. Because I know a couple like that and they've been married more than thirty years now, and THAT is something.

I'm not saying relationships need to have been through something as traumatizing as that to be worth speaking of. I'm not saying relationships NEED to have been through anything at all. And I'm not even just limiting this point to relationships.

I'm saying, having your boat rocked isn't the most fun experience in the world,

but when you get through it, it'll be something to look back at.

Maybe this is me and how I'm choosing to deal with how I feel about most things that happen.

Of course there are a million other ways that situations can turn around,

and there are plenty of other takes and perspectives. All of which are no less than the other.

But, as I always do, I write because sometimes, I need to tell myself things too.

In other words, I rant and rave on my own blog, at myself.

No Charis, not weird at all.

I don't know what's going to happen in the month and a half. I don't know how it'll feel, I don't know what to expect, I don't know how I will deal.

Sometimes, when I let myself think about it a bit more, I think I'm a bit scared of getting lost in all of it.

New experiences (bad or good) are fine if they come in reasonable doses. But most times, they don't come in bite-sized amounts.

Some time earlier this year, I wrote about appreciating things while they were instead of fretting about what will come after. Or simply, letting yourself be in that moment as opposed to thinking about how it possibly won't happen again.

Because if you don't, then you'll never get to enjoy that bit of time in its entirety.

I guess what I'm trying to say is,

I'd like to switch of my cell phone, turn off the alarms, take the music out of my ears and just sit. Because to me, that's the best way of holding on.

All the things you hold on too tightly to, the things you're afraid of not appreciating enough,

they will promise to slip right through your fingers. And they will, even as you're watching.

I wouldn't like for that to happen, not in the least.

And we've barely four days.

"Dear John,

tell me everything. Write it all down.

That way, we’ll be with each other all the time, even if we’re not with each other at all."

-- an excerpt; Nicholas Sparks, Dear John